[THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REVISED]
ღ Finding Cinderella- 4 ღ
-Kylie-
"Put me down, you idiot!" I yelled at the top of my lungs as Tristan carried me through yet another parking lot.
I'd refused to leave the car the minute I'd seen the Runaway Shoppe, but Tristan had overpowered me once again, tossing me over his shoulder without breaking a sweat. I just knew I was in for a terrible time. The Runaway Shoppe was exactly the kind of place I'd always hated, so whatever Tristan was planning to do there , it couldn't have been good.
When we stepped through the glass doors though, I was amazed. The shop was so co lossal; a Ferris wheel would've fit inside without a problem. Everything around me looked so vintage-y and artsy, not to mention smelled nice, if you considered the sweet-smelling air freshener; the pink room we'd entered contained a front desk, makeup displays, and accessory racks, along with a variety of other luxury items I couldn't even begin to count. If I hadn't known any better, I would've easily mistaken this place for a mansion.
Why was I even here?
Tristan immediately dropped me on a pink, squashy couch, leaving me to bounce of f the hard part in the middle. Damn, my butt hurt! I'd probably already broken t wenty bones today because of his terrible manners.
"Tristan, I hate you," I muttered, gritting my teeth, "I hate you to the moon an d back. You know what, you always make me feel like doing a roundhouse kick to y our face." Pushing myself off the couch, I tried to make a break for it, but he just stepped in front of me in one sudden movement.
My eyes flashed. "What the fudge-"
"Stay here and keep quiet," he cut me off with a straight face, "or else I'll ha ve to find a leash."
"What do you think am I, a freaking canine?" I shouted, making some of the custo mers look at me in shock; my face heated up, not with embarrassment, but with fu ry.
Tristan was about to reply when a woman seemingly in her forties emerged from th e back of the store, calling his name in surprise. She was clad in a well-design ed floral dress, as if she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. I was a l ittle confused until I realized she was probably the Runaway Shoppe's manager.
Oh yeah, Tristan was freaking rich-how could I have forgotten? His dad was a wel l-known engineer with affiliates practically everywhere, and I wouldn't have bee n surprised if he had connections with the Yakuza.
"Tristan, welcome!" the dark-haired woman said, giving him a warm hug that he re turned easily. "It's been a while..." Her cat-like eyes then fell on me, and she smiled: "Oh, you brought a girlfriend, I see."
Hoo, boy. Why did it always have to be like this? Whenever we went places togeth er, people always saw us as a couple, no matter where we were. How could they mi sinterpret such total enemies as star-crossed lovers? That was why I absolutely hated being around Tristan. Anything to do with him meant headaches, headaches a nd more headaches.
Sinking down into the couch, I crossed my arms and sighed with impatience. Meanw hile, Tristan was snickering as he shook his head. "No, Morgan, she's just a fri end, actually." He turned to flash a cocky grin at me, and I scowled.
Morgan only nodded and smiled, saying, "Oh, all right. Well, what can I help you with, then? Is there anything you're looking for?"
"Do you have a ball gown that would be flattering on her?" Tristan asked, jabbin g his thumb at me. "We need one that's super exclusive."
My eyes widened, and in a low voice, I said, "What?"
"Of course!" Morgan said to Tristan. "We just received some newly designed garme nts straight from Paris. Wait just a moment, please, and I'll go get them." She clapped in the direction of some female assistants on the side, and they quickly strode into the next room, where I bet all the designer clothes were on display .
In the meantime, my eyes darted straight to the back of Tristan's head, and I ga ve him the worst glare I could muster. "What exactly are you doing?" I snapped a t him. "Why are you picking out a dress for me? You know how much I hate that st uff."
"Kylie, behave," he said, not even bothering to turn around. "And don't start fr eaking the hell out, because I'll be the one paying, so no worries. I'm only doi ng this to make you smile for a change," he added, looking back to give me a win k.
Oh God, somebody restrain me from stabbing him with a pen.
"Shut up, Tristan," I said. "Don't you dare try to use your charm on me either, since we both know that'll never work. I want to get out of here, now."
He sneered. "Aww, but don't you want a present?" he said. "Plenty of girls would die to be honored like this, you know."
"Well, excuse me," I scoffed, "but I'm nothing like those stupid bit-"
He held up his finger to cut me off, saying, "Easy with the words, Kylie."
Oh, please! Since when had he become so ethical? Lacey had probably tried teachi ng him manners, but it was obvious how effective that had been.
I swallowed the end of my sentence and continued: "Fine, stupid witches, whateve r. Anyway, if you're only doing this so I can go to the Valentine Ball with you, then no thank you-" I held up a hand "-because I'm already refusing your offer. "
"Oh, so you figured it out that quickly, huh?" he said. Just because I'm a blond e doesn't mean I'm stupid, Tristan! I know all of your tricks! I wanted to say i t out loud, but he kept on speaking: "Don't think I'm asking you out, Kylie, bec ause that'd never happen in a million years."
I snorted. "Yeah, like I didn't already know that."
"I'm sure you did know that," he said, "but see, I'm not asking you, I'm forcing you to go out with me... though I do know I'm hard to resist."
I rolled my eyes. Had Tristan been trying to imitate Johnny Bravo right there? I f so, then he'd succeeded in making me even more furious. What a conceited, evil , overconfident jerk! I was probably the only person who could even match up to his attitude.
"Don't waste your precious efforts, Tristan," I said with an exasperated sigh. T his argument was just plain stupid. "No matter what you do, you can't make me at tend the ball, with or without you. Why are you exactly doing this?"
"I need you to do something for me during the ball."
"Oh, really? Well, sad to say, I refuse to accept any job offers from you starti ng this day. Period."
"Kylie-"
"I said I'm not going, dammit."
"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrows arched as his hands dove into his pockets. "Well, then, I guess I'll just ask your mom for permission. I bet she can make her child go out with me." He proceeded to pull out a Blackberry and began punching in number s, but I just rolled my eyes again.
Yeah, go on, Tristan, like I'd actually believe you'd dial my mom's phone number-
"Hello, Mrs. Harris? Yeah, it's me, Tristan. Look-"
Then I could hear a tiny noise coming from the phone-my own mother's voice.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
I lunged at him in a rush, grabbing the phone out of his hand and running for my dear life out the door of the Runaway Shoppe. I didn't know where I was heading , and everything was a blur as I sped down the sidewalk; then I heard a faint so und escape from my phone, and I held it up, surprised.
Oh, crap, it was still connected to Mom!
"H-hey, Mom!" I answered shakily, trying to make room for speech between my heav y breaths. There was music blaring through the phone, and I guess she was still having her yoga lecture.
"Kylie? Oh, so you're hanging out with Tristan," she said, relieved. "Are you tw o all right? Is there an emergency?"
Yes, Mom, yes! I'd been in a life-or-death emergency all afternoon. In fact, I w as running like hell to escape the clutches of evil!
Tristan's voice echoed through the crowd, and when I looked back, I saw him dash ing towards me at top speed, his sharp gaze enough to slice me into pieces. My s teps doubled, and I thanked God for my long legs. I was practically running like a cheetah, and with that extra boost of speed, I managed to blend in with the h uge mob of people, knowing Tristan would have a hard time finding me now.
"Honey, is everything all right?" asked my mom. "Where are you? You sound like y ou're... running?"
"Huh? Oh, ha-ha, yeah, everything's perfectly fine. Tristan and I are just doing the Amazing Race, that's all." Oh, and did I forget to mention that I was a fan tastic liar?
At long last, one of my few talents was actually coming in handy.
"You're doing wha-"
"The Amazing Race! Haven't you heard of it? It's all the rage nowadays! Anyway, I gotta go now, so see you later!" And with that, I pressed the off button.
I knew it's rude to cut off someone when they're talking, but to be honest, I ha d no choice. After all, I didn't need Mom bombarding me with questions about thi s whole thing. If I told her the entire story, she'd probably just side with Tri stan because she loved him so much.
Darn, why did my family have to be so close with Tristan's?
My breath came out in short gasps as I ran another length of sidewalk, and I fig ured I'd already lost myself mid-city, but I didn't care. As long as I was away from the evil prince, I would be all right. When I looked back, though, Tristan was nowhere to be found, and I gave a chuckle of satisfaction; after all this ru nning, he'd finally given up on me.
Then my face slammed into something solid as I rounded a corner, and I toppled o ver, smacking my butt on the ground. I felt a shock of soreness travelling throu gh my body, from my nose to my rear, and I wondered for the umpteenth time what I'd done to deserve this crappy day. Why was I experiencing every torture strate gy in the book?
Never mind what I'd said earlier. This was why I hated Valentine's Day.
"Oh, shoot. I'm so sorry," said a voice, which startled me. "Come on, let me kno w if you're okay. Are you able to stand up?"
Huh, was the wall talking to me? I'd figured I'd hit a dead end or something.
Then a hand appeared, offering me to help me to my feet. When I looked up, I saw a tall guy with chocolate-brown hair dressed all in black, leaning over me; he was wearing Ray Bans, so I couldn't see his eyes too clearly.
I grabbed his hand, and he easily pulled me up. Whoa, his hands were so soft and smooth, just like a baby's butt... and he smelled nice, too.
"Are you all right?" he asked in a deep voice. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't looki ng where I was going, and I-"
"Err, no," I said. "It's entirely my fault. I guess I should be the one apologiz ing, but thanks, anyway," I added, smiling and giving him a thumbs up for reassu rance. Great, with my disheveled appearance, the guy probably thought I was alwa ys this awful-looking, what with my tangled hair, sweaty face, and possibly-brok en nose.
But he just grinned casually. "You haven't changed a bit, huh..." said the guy t houghtfully. "I'm glad you're still the Kylie Harris that I knew."
The smile on my lips froze. Wait-how did he know me? Had I just found myself a s talker?
"Uh, do I know you?" I asked cautiously, heart burning with part exhaustion, par t anxiety.
"What, you've already forgotten about me?" He chuckled. "Well, I'm not surprised ..."
Once he'd removed his glasses, I swear I could feel my feet melting into the gro und from all the hotness. Holy macaroni; he had such cool blue eyes! There were a few freckles on his face, but they didn't look bad on him, and with all my bad luck that day, it was a miracle I'd found a good-looking dude who was also nice .
But then my eyebrows furrowed. He seemed strangely familiar...
"It's me, Erik Taylor. Remember?"
The moment he stated his name, my face grew hot immediately. My mind paused, and in its place was a mess of uncontrollable thoughts, all overwhelmingly cliché and frustratingly random.
So that was why!
Oh by the beard of Zeus, why did this have to happen to me now?
I couldn't believe it, but he was right there in front of me. Erik, the guy I ha d a crush with ages ago, and Erik, the guy who'd broken my heart for the first t ime.