Burned (Hate at First Flight #2) ✔️

34. Finding Out More About the Playboy

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XOXO,

LOSALINI

P.S --- IF YOU HAD READ RUSHED, THE FIRST BOOK, PLEASE NOTE THAT I'VE POSTED UP THE BOOK THAT THE MOVIE WAS BASED ON. 

BITTERSWEET EXPECTATIONS (HATE AT FIRST FLIGHT #0.5) link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/32569316-bittersweet-expectations-hate-at-first-flight-0-5

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By Tuesday, the following week I had just about lost my mind. Will had gone around telling everyone about our 'date'. At hearing this, Douglas had shot me an impassive look, that I knew hid disappointment at me and my so called 'letting his cousin down easy'. The ground we'd made into a somewhat slowly forming friendship was surely lost, or at least that had been the conclusion I'd gathered after him not uttering a word in my direction other than a 'Hi', ''Do you want something to eat?' or 'You can go home now.'

I would've explained the circumstances behind the 'date' but whenever I did, he would suddenly have something better to do.

As soon as Quincy let me through the door, I handed him the paper that Sam had handed me as soon as I came up to the gate.

"Where's everyone?" I asked him, my eyes drifting off to study the intricate designs of the house like it always did, and as usual it landed briefly on the spot the painting had been hung on just weeks ago. I wondered where it was now and why it had suddenly been unceremoniously taken down.

Quincy walked towards the table by the staircase and placed the paper there, before turning back around to face me. "I believe Mr Davis has gone off to look for a certain type of bread and Ms Frost had went to get her mani-pedi done, I believe the term is."

"This early?" I asked him, surprised as I took a chance look at the ivory wall clock on the right of the staircase. The time read 8:35. "Are they even open now?"

"I believe her exact words in answer to my reiteration of the same question was 'the early bird catches the worm'."

I smiled, amused at his imitation of Georgia as I pictured the words escaping Georgia's lips. "Trust her to say something naive as that. Where's Douglas?"

Quincy's eyes drifted towards towards the second floor. "I believe still in bed. He was reading until late last night."

It took me a while to appropriate my thoughts and come to the conclusion that Quincy was serious. "Douglas reading?" I asked, shocked. Douglas and reading were two words I wouldn't believe could be put together. He gave this presumption of himself like anyone did by the way they walked, talked, dressed or their background. The saying 'don't judge a book  by it's cover' was very relevant here.

I had judged Douglas to be one of those people that was rebellious and would party until the early hours of the morning. After all, that had been the picture the tabloids painted of him. The party boy that squandered his father's wealth and would have a more likely chance of being caught with a bottle of Heineken than a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Quincy nodded. "That's the only way he can fall asleep comfortably," he replied. "If he doesn't read, he won't sleep. Or if he does, he always wakes up an hour or two later."