Touch Me While I Taste You

Chapter 4

4

Arabella Rivera

“Goodmorning Arabella.” Gertrude greeted me as I entered the kitchen.

I wanted to point out that there was nothing good about the morning, especially the day ahead. But of course, I swallowed it down and murmur a soft greeting in return.

“You’re here so early?” I asked, throwing my bag on the island. I fixed myself onto the stool and let my eyes stray to Gertrude.

My eyes drop to stare at the broken wine glass she was quickly sweeping in the dustpan before disposing it into the bin. My stomach drops already knowing without having to ask.

” Yeah, your mom needed me to come early to clean up.” She answers, pushes a cloth under the running pipe and wrings it before wiping down the spilled red wine on the floor.

“They had a rough night huh?” I asked. It was no secret that my parents never saw eye to eye.

Funny that they complain about the Cross’s while they were no saints themselves. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. At least the Cross’s didn’t hide behind the facade of a perfect family.

Gertrude doesn’t answer confirming my suspicion. I should not be surprised, in fact, I wasn’t. This was normal, it was normal. But that didn’t help the lurking anger I felt knowing that my parents never cleaned after themselves.

They treated Gertrude like a slave who should always do their bidding. Yes, she was practically our maid but no one should be worked to the point of exhaustion. ” Maybe one day you should have them clean up their own mess.” I couldn’t stop the hint of anger that slipped when I spoke.

” Who needs to clean up their own mess?” A hoarse voice speaks.

I looked over at mother who entered the kitchen, fingers pressed to her temples like she had a massive headache. When her eyes fall on me, I took note of how red and swollen they looked. It appeared like she had been crying for hours. At this point, I wouldn’t doubt it.

She was also dressed in her normal formal attire, white blouse, pencil skirt with deathly high red stilettos and a black Prada bag clutched in her hands. She looked like the epitome of a hot wicked boss whose personal life is falling apart day by day.

In her case it was true. I could vouch for that since I was living in her world. The one where I am supposed to be perfect just like her. Or as perfect as she portrays to be.

She walks to the island and rests her elbows on the smooth marble surface. She groans rubbing at her temples. ” I have a massive migraine. Can you pour a glass of orange juice for me please Gertrude?”

” Yes Mrs. Rivera.” Gertrude replied and throws the soaked up wine cloth in the sink then walks over to the fridge.

“How was the anniversary dinner last night?” I asked purposely. I observe how both Gertrude and mother stiffen upon hearing my question.

Skipping around my question she orders Gertrude. ” Pour a glass for Arabella as well.”

“That’s fine, I’m not an orange juice kind of person on mornings.” I said flatly, mildly irritated that she forgot I was allergic to citrus. Then again I should not be surprised, my parents forgot a lot about me or they simply didn’t care to know more.

“You need to drink something or at least eat before you head to school Arabella.” She sighs grasping the glass of orange juice Gertrude handed to her.

In my line of vision, I could see how quickly she took out what looked like pills from her bag and popped one in her mouth before gulping the fruity drink.

“I will.” I said, planning to buy my favorite vegan salad on the way.

Her eyes shift to the clock on the wall and she turns to me. “Is Gwen picking you up or do you need a ride? I have a meeting in a couple of hours and I could drop you off?”

Mother was one of the most successful designers in our state. I remember the younger me dancing around with the many different materials before I got scolded by her for disarranging the color theme.

But younger me didn’t care back then, because those materials knew more of my feelings than either of my parents. So I’d do it over and over again until she stopped bringing me to work with her.

I nodded playing with the straps of my bag. “Yes Gwen should be here any second now so no need to drop me off.” It was not like I hated my parents, they were my parents so of course I couldn’t even if I

wanted to.

But it was as though we were more like strangers than being actually related and the only thing connecting us was the blood running through our veins. Besides, a car ride with mother always resulted in an argument about school grades needing to be up. I always lost the argument while she never does.

She smiles sadly. “I would really have liked to see you off on your first day being a senior. Like the first day I dropped you off in kindergarten. My perfect little girl is growing before my very own eyes.” She laughs lowly, gulping more orange juice.

I wanted to point out that it was not actually her who had dropped me off in kindergarten but Gertrude but I bit my tongue. Surely she’d win that argument too, she always did.

I nodded. “Right.”

“Your father wanted to see you off but he got called in at work earlier than expected, he has already left.” She spoke after an awkward pause.

Oh so now she wants to talk about father?

I shrugged not caring at all. Same old same old, be the perfect daughter with good grades while they act like the best parents when they’re, not. Sometimes I felt that my parents saw talking to me as a chore which was rather draining on both our ends.

She sighs when I make no effort to answer her. Her eyes tear away from me to look at the clock again. ” I should be going now. Arabella don’t stay out late and if anything comes up at school, I’m one phone call away.” She utters, grabs her bag and leaves the kitchen without waiting for a response from me.

Gertrude who had been eavesdropping while pretending to wipe down the countertops, walks over to where mother was a few seconds ago and reaches for the empty glass. Her head lifts and her eyes connect to mine.

She groans. ” Don’t look at me like that Arabella. You know your mother loves you. Your parents love you.”

I hated when she could always just stare at me and read my mind. Note my sarcasm.

I pretend to not care and scroll through my phone as I waited for Gwen to text me.

“Well, they certainly have a funny way of showing it. How lovely that my very own mother has forgotten that citrus raises hives on my skin.” I deadpanned. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I didn’t mean to sound harsh but I was getting tired of Gertrude defending them all the time. I lift my eyes to Gertrude and she winces, walking over to the sink with the glass in her hand.

“Don’t be too hard on her Arabella she’s been going through a lot lately.” She whispers.

“Been through what exactly Gertrude?” Of course I knew that whatever mother was going through there was no way Gertrude would tell me. I was always protected from the truth. The secrets in this house were not for me to know.

Maybe I was better off not knowing.

Gertrude opens the pipe and pretends to not have heard me. I opened my mouth to speak but a ping from my phone draws my attention to the device. It was a text from Gwen, she would be there in five. Sighing I moved off the stool and grabbed my bag, fixing the straps over my shoulders.

” I’m leaving now.” I murmur leaving the kitchen before Gertrude could answer.

___________

My converse smacked against the pavement as I made my way to the sidewalk. I intended to wait for Gwen there. My eyes were glued to the screen of my phone as I scrolled through I*******m.

I came to a stop beside the road and pushed the phone in the back pocket of my jeans. I lift my head when I hear the sound of someone slamming the door of a car.

My eyes snap to the sound and they fix on Haiden who’s rolling down the window, already staring at me. My breath caught in my throat. We barely acknowledged each other, actually, we never did. Now having his attention on me for the first time was quite nerve-racking.

Was he thinking that I was the creep staring at him last night? I nearly face palmed for being ridiculous, of course he knew it was me. I live just next door to him and my window mirrored his.

I sucked in a sharp breath when he starts his black pickup truck and comes driving towards. Of course I am on the sidewalk away from the road so I had no fear he’d drive through me for being a creep last night. But when he’s almost near, the passenger side window facing me, rolls down.

His eyes twinkle with mirth as his lips curl in a teasing smirk. Then he does something unexpected, he winks. Transfixed and confused by him, I had not realized that he was driving over a puddle of water on purpose.

The result was dirty water flinging over me. I shriek when the filthy water wet through my red shirt and some spots on my jeans.

I watch him drive away, glaring holes into his shiny black pickup van.

Asshole.