Page 61 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“Why don’t you talk to your mother? Tell her what you just told me. Maybe she would understand.”

His mouth twists into a humorless smile. “You haven’t met my mother.”

“What about your date? You could talk to her.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? She wouldn’t take no for an answer. I tried to politely decline on the phone earlier.”

“What happened?”

“She called her mother who then called mine.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Meagan has all the qualities I need in my future wife. Well educated. Independent. Genteel.”A complete opposite of me.

“If I overlook her act of disobedience, she is exactly my type. But like I said, I don’t have time for a serious relationship.”

A lump forms in my throat. There’s a heaviness in my chest after hearing him say she is his type.

There was a point in my life where I craved to have a perfect life that someone like Meagan had.

When I was in high school, I always used to wish to be someone else. Like the popular girls who had everything.

Nice clothes.

Beautiful house.

Parents.

A meal on the table every night.

But then I grew up. I understood that appearance or a degree doesn’t define a human being. One should have a kind heart.

I was bullied by those beautiful girls in high school because I tried to blend in.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday when I experimented with a hand-me-down dress. I used scissors and sewed shimmery fabrics over it to make it look fashionable.

All I wanted was to look pretty like them.

I was naïve because I was trolled and ridiculed.

Raleigh never tried to fit in because he was wiser than me. He knew they would never accept people like us. Orphans with old clothes who rode bicycles instead of cars.

“Why do you want to be like them? They are fake.” Raleigh had said when he found me crying after school.

“Fake?” I hiccup as I mount my bike.

“Yeah. Take that group of girls for example. They all sit together. Eat together. Laugh together and go home together. But the other day, I heard the two of them back bitching about their leader.” He grips the handlebar of his bike beside me.

“Really?” I ask, sniffling.

“Yep. They may have better clothes and better rides but you are the one that stands out. You know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because you are friends with the most handsome boy in school.” He smirks.

I swat his bicep, chuckling. He laughs.

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