From hatred to love. Trust turns to betrayal.
The story of the leader of a troublemaker group called the Jets and a lonely girl who has lived her life in hiding with little to no one knowing who she truly is.
Riff Lorton; leader of the Jets.
...
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He set the two large cans of paint on the ground and slipped out two paintbrushes from his back pockets. Amelia closed the front door and walked over to Riff.
"What's all this?"
Riff looked up at her and tilt his head, "Paint. You said you wanna paint your house?"
"Oh no, Riff. I can't," she shook her head and clutched her chest. "I can't."
"You've gotta do something to the house. The walls are turning dark and ugly. It don't match you, girly girl. So I got you a can of white paint and...Uhm...the other is black. I don't know if you wanted to go dark or light so I got you both."
"Did you buy them?" She asked.
He looked away and shrugged his shoulders, "Something like that."
He popped open the cans with a screwdriver which he hid in his front pocket. He grabbed a few old newspapers he found while looking around in her house and arranged them on the floor, just before the wall. He proceeds to take down the photos and set them nicely on her kitchen counter. Amelia stayed and watched him prepare everything. Finally, he took one brush and handed it over to her.
"Come on. It'll be fun," he said gently.
She shook her head and declined his offer. He knew she was scared. If it was him, he'd be afraid too. From what she had told him, her mother was her whole world and to change a single thing that reminds her of her good past would be difficult.
"I'm scared, Riff. One change I make in this house would be like losing a part of her."
"You're not losin' her. She's here," Riff comforted. Amelia looked confused and wondered what he meant. "She's in the photos. She's here. You're just making a little change."
He dipped the brush in the white paint, sliding the excess off against the can. He lifted it and turned around to her. He reached out for her hand and placed the brush in her palm.
"I-I don't know about this, Riff."
"Trust me."
As those words left his lips, her eyes could not leave the man. The two words muffled her surroundings from the noisy street and it was only the sound of their heartbeat.
She noticed how different he was towards her as compared to the first time they met. Was it because of the conversation they had the night before? He sounded gentle and looked gentle. A sense of protection wrapped her in a bubble, covering them both from the outside world. She was certain that he looked different too, but what was different?
He moved next to her and wrapped his arm around her back. One hand was on her right wrist that held the brush and the other was on her left shoulder. His touch was gentle and warm. It sent a comforting signal down her body. Her heart was beating with anxiety yet she could sense a hint of excitement. The same scent that belonged to him came creeping up her nose. It smelt dirty yet heavenly.
