When Clyde Parker, the wayward son and the rotten-apple of the Parker family-tree, storms his way back into Avery Fields, he sets out a flurry of butterfly effect in Dawn Marshal's life.
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HER ROOM SMELT LIKE a boy. And not just any other boy, the notorious Parker brother with his unyielding fuckery and impromptu sexual innuendos that caught her off guard every time.
There was this distinct scent of cigarettes, a musty manliness with a mixture of aftershave and spearmints. He smelt like a lemony soap with an assortment of spices.
He smelt of something, she couldn't fathom into mere words.
He tore down all pastel walls she had built, the boy-band posters—memory of her fanatic phase—everything was tearing down. With him here, her whole was shattering and she couldn't do anything but watch the storm gradually rage into her life and wait for it obliterate everything. The worst part? She was standing at the eye of the storm.
With every passing time, it was getting harder for her to pretend he wasn't there.
When Clyde was out 'running errands', she devoted her hours to thinking, thinking on how to break the ice with him and overcome their petty banters.
She eyed the matte black slate with all the 'Ground Rules' chalked on it. And for the fifth time that day, she pondered about all the ground rules that were already broken, the lines that were crossed.
But something told her, that the lines were already crossed the moment she took her boyfriend's spiraling half brother inside her very humble abode.
Boyfriend. Who knew an itty bitty two syllable word would bear that much weigh that it still felt funny on her tongue.
Then, she thought how on earth she was going to tell Caleb about Clyde. A part of her was dying to tell him and the other part concluded that it wasn't her secret to tell; that if Clyde didn't confide in his brother about his whereabouts then she couldn't either.
And when she wasn't remotely thinking about Clyde—she was daydreaming about French-kissing his brother.
Clyde Parker was an ordeal, himself. One moment they both were like Batman and Robin, the wonder-twins and the next moment he was ruthless—awfully distant, the utter definition of cold. With Clyde, she learnt being an asshole wasn't just a phase; it was a fault in his code like he didn't know any other way to be. He was wired this way, there was no other way through it.
A pounding on the door stirred her out of her thoughts. "Dawn, open up!" She could see Ethan's face morphing into a frown in her mind's eye. She was certain, it was one of her mother's tactics to check on her every other hour without coming off as nagging.
She sighed and plodded to the door without sparing another thought. The door creaked, leaving a gap of half an inch in between. Warily she looked over her shoulder to find the empty unmade bed, the pillows scattered all around—like every other day, Clyde Parker was out before the crack of dawn.
In Mia's world Dawn would classify as Clyde Parker's booty-call.
"Morning, Peeping Tom!" Her brother beamed, his grin would be almost contagious if she wasn't having a long week.
