Page 50 of The Blairville Legacies

I rarely experienced so much élan from her...

“Oh God, your window is still open. You do realize it’s only 8 degrees outside?”

Indeed, it was very chilly in my room. I had noticed that, especially in the mornings, the temperatures were way down and that you couldn’t walk around outside with a T-shirt like in the middle of the day.

I missed California very much. And I was in Blairville.Unfortunately.

When I eventually managed to sit up, Mum came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“My big girl.” She smiled at me before pressing a kiss to my cheek, rising again and hurrying to the door. “Please hurry up and put on some proper clothes.”

Then she was gone.

She hadn’t even given me time to complain. I didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of attention. And certainly not for a whole day.

Groaning, I moved to the other side of the bed, about to get to my closet.

The massive door was still open, as it always was because I was literally too lazy to close my closets again and again. This applied to my entire room as well.

Speaking of which... What wasproperin Mum’s opinion? Was she going somewhere with me? Not really, as far as I knew, unless there were some plans, she was keeping from me again.

After long consideration, I decided on a pair of black jeans and a simple copper brown top that looked relatively new. At least when I looked at myself in the mirror, I knew that it must have been a very long time since I had worn something so tight.

The top emphasized my rather less existing breasts, as well as my waist, and the neckline was also not exactly covering. Actually, it looked quite sexy in combination with the skintight jeans. ButGod, it was damn tight.

How Larissa could always stand it in her skintight outfits?

The sign was still hanging on the side and when I took a look at it, I remembered again. Of course...Larissa. She had gifted me that top a year ago.

I sighed.

But why did I complain? I was here in our own four walls and didn’t need to hide from anyone, and if we were really leaving, I could still put on a blouse.

I cut the tag off, took one last examining look in the mirror, and then left the room.

Startled, I stopped on the last step of the stairs.

“Mr. Bardot...?” it slipped out of me barely audibly and, above all, in complete surprise.

“Happy 18thbirthday, Bayla,” he said kindly, coming up to shake my hand. In the other, he held a small package wrapped in dark blue paper, which he finally pressed into my hand.

“Here, I don’t know what you like, but your mother said you are into reading.”

“Thanks, you shouldn’t have...” I stuttered in embarrassment, accepting the package slightly ashamed.

I turned toward Mum to confront her with scathing looks, but she had disappeared. I looked around further and spotted her next to the stove, where she was lighting candles on a cake. Leaning against the kitchen counter, next to her was Julian, who seemed to be eyeing me.

Everything in me instantly stiffened.

What the hell was he doing here again?

I immediately regretted that I had put on this top and crossed my arms in front of my chest. Then I strode to Mum in the kitchen and showed her with my looks how excited I was.

Julian seemed to noticed and grinned at me gleefully. I looked back without sympathy.

Couldn’t he just leave again, please?

“Do you want a coffee, Graham? Or you, Julian?” my mother asked, addressing Mr. Bardot and the annoying neighbor guy.

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