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eighteen

"Nicholas Muller, I am very disappointed in you," scolded the head administrator as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "What would your parents say if they heard about this?"

Nicholas shrugged. "They probably wouldn't care."

The head administrator, Mr. Clarke, narrowed his eyes at Nicholas, wondering if he was serious.

"I was being honest, sir."

"Nicholas," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "your father runs one of the biggest companies in the world. Your mother is a famous model."

"Your point?"

"You can't be acting out like that. You could ruin your family's name," said Mr. Clarke, gently.

Nicholas snickered. He couldn't be serious. "I don't associate myself with that name. My parents' affairs are no business of mine."

"Well tough luck because you still share their last name."

"Not by will."

"Nicholas," he warned.

He held his hand up to stop Mr Clarke's protests. "No, how about you listen for a second? Anthony was touching a girl against her will and you're not punishing him. Why the fuck do I get all the blame when Anthony physically touched her and gets away scratch free?" he questioned, meeting Mr. Clarke's green eyes with fury.

"Watch your language, young man."

"Why does Anthony walk away free, but I'm stuck here for defending an innocent girl?" asked Nicholas. "That's not fair."

"Anthony has no social value to him. He doesn't have a life beyond the one he has at school. He's a poor student that takes loans."

"So what? I pay for my education on my own too."

Mr. Clarke sighed, walking around his desk and standing beside Nicholas. He placed his chubby fingers on Nicholas's shoulder, his grip tightening. "Son-"

"I'm not your son."

"Nicholas," he amended, "even though you disassociate yourself from your family, the media and public don't. By blood, you are still a Muller, you still have a family legacy to protect. Anthony can act out, but you're different. You have social value in this world."

Anger blossomed deep in Nicholas's soul. It seemed like all anyone cared about was social class and social status. His parents were wealthy, money a given, and their attitudes were spoiled. They didn't care about anything except perfection, absolute perfection out of imperfect people. They believed the world revolved around them because there were some that worshipped the ground his family walked on, but not Nicholas. 

He pushed Mr. Clarke's hand off his shoulder, walking towards the door. His fingers gripped the metal knob."I hate to break it to you, sir, but I'm not perfect. I'm not who my parents are. I'm better than that," he said before slamming the door behind him. 

Nicholas was beyond furious. It always came back to his parents. It always came back to his inherited wealth. It always came back to his family's legacy. He shook his head, Nicholas was done.

He told himself after high school that his family meant nothing to him. Parents were supposed to care about their children, but his parents never did. They abandoned him when he needed them the most. 

"Nemo," whispered a soft voice from beside him. 

Nicholas froze, his body reacting to her voice. "Dina?" 

She tightly smiled at him, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. "Hey," she mumbled. 

"Hey," he breathed. 

A silence spread through them, neither of the two choosing to speak. He watched as her thick lashes fluttered, her gaze dropping to the floor almost as if she was nervous in his presence. Her arms went around herself, hugging her body. The tempting lips she had drove him crazy. With the way she was biting down on her bottom lip, Nicholas didn't remember what self control was. 

He cleared his throat, grasping her attention. 

"Thank you," she whispered, the sound barely audible. 

"For what?"

"For being there and helping me,"she said as she took a couple steps closer to him. Nicholas inhaled a sharp breath. "For climbing out of your comfort zone to get Anthony off me. Thank you, Nick."

He scratched the back of his neck. "It was nothing, really."

She shook her head with a small smile. "No, Nick. It was definitely something. You stood up to a bully."

"Well, he was touching you without your consent."

Her eyes darkened. "I know."

Nicholas reached out to hold her hand, to comfort her, but he paused. How am I better than Anthony if I touch her without her consent too? With a heavy heart, he withdrew his hand.

Dina glanced at his bruised knuckles, a slight gasp escaping her lips. She reached into her bag, fumbling with the multiple items in her backpack until she found the right one. She pulled out a tiny container as she sat down on the bench near them, patting the seat next to her. 

"Sit," she commanded.

Nicholas did.

His hand was taken into her soft ones, her touch igniting him. Nicholas felt the warm comfort she gave him, but he was frozen to his seat, unable to move from the shock that she was holding his hand. The feeling was ineffable and he never wanted it to end. She opened the container, dipping her finger in the golden paste. 

"What is that?" he asked. 

"It's a healing ointment I made."

Suddenly, Nicholas wasn't quite sure if it would work. "Is it safe?" he cautiously questioned, eyeing the thick consistency. 

She laughed at his nervousness. "Relax, Nemo. It's made from honey and this plant my parents grow in their garden."

"Honey?"

"Yeah, Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) used to always tell his followers that honey was a blessing that was good for healing. He wasn't wrong," she explained as she gently rubbed the ointment on his knuckles. 

The initial feeling stung him, but as she gently touched the reddened and split skin, the burning began to fade, leaving behind a soothing sensation. He watched as she gently massaged the solution onto his skin, the small rubbing motion of her fingertips.

For a moment, Nicholas imagined a future with Dina. She's perfect, he thought, but I'm not.

----

Math is slowly killing me. A very painful death indeed.

Back to the book, what are your impressions of Nicholas' parents and his family's "legacy"?

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