He looked around the room perplexed. "You have furniture?"

"I have furniture," I confirmed.

"Why doesn't the rest of the house?"

"The rest of our things aren't here yet. I thought I would've had to sleep on the floor," I explained.

"Wait, you just got here, today?" He asked as he continued about the room.

"Landed 10 hours ago." I sighed.

"Hmm, I guess that also explains why your room's such a mess," he said. My mouth fell open as I took offence. My room didn't even look that bad. It was just a bit hard finding what to wear and doing my makeup.

He went to take a seat on the end of the bed and I kicked him. He fell and I laughed hysterically. I sat up and watched him groan.

"That's where you'll sleep." I huffed, folding my arms.

He got up and glared at me and I glared back until we both burst into laughter.

"I like you," he said and took his seat next to me.

"I don't know if I can say the same," I jeered. He rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to go on the balcony?" I started abruptly. "The view's really nice." I gushed. He nodded in response, his brown coils bouncing with him.

We took our seats as I gawked at the night sky. It was much better at night, even though it was a bit chilly. I was too focused on the star-like city lights to be cold anyway.

"Do you always invite strangers to your house?" He asked unexpectedly.

"Only those who are willing to come," I said and he smiled.

"Why'd you agree to come?" I asked with a duplication of the skepticism on his face. I folded my arms and sat back in my seat.

"You're the new girl," he stated.

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. "I'm the new girl?"

"Yup! I have to get to know you while you're still you before they convert you to Cobraism." He leaned back making himself more comfortable.

"What?" I said not knowing if I was crazy for not getting it or if he was.

"Our school's mascot is the Cobra," he revealed and I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Cobraism is when you fall into the stereotype that is our school and become a mindless, self serving clone."

I blinked at him as I processed, but I couldn't get past the word 'Cobraism.'

Is it even a word?

"Cobraism?" I leaned towards him, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

"Happens to the best of us." He shrugged. "But you'll be fine with me by your side," he continued with a grin and patted my shoulder.

I smiled back unsure before leaning back in my seat. "I've been to a few different schools, I know how they can be," I said after a few minutes.

"You've never been to Stonewell," he spoke with an austere tone. "It gets extremely intense when you're in a building full of geniuses who care about social reputation," He added, looking into the distance as if he was recollecting some faint memory.

"You were expelled from your old school..."

My heart stopped as the words left his mouth. How did he know that? I cleared my throat to collect the coolness I needed to pretend I wasn't rattled. "How do you know that?"

His eyes met mine. "Everyone knows."

"You have no business being at Stonewell," he said and I felt a bit of rage build inside of me. I brought this guy to my house to procure some type of friendship and here he was, insulting me. After being forced to start over here I was being spoken to like this.

I opened my mouth to object then he began again. "If you were anyone else they wouldn't have considered you with that on your record. Lucky for you your father is Arthur Ellison and your mother is the Elizabeth Turner."

I knew all that he said was true. My parents obtained countless items and opportunities because of their statuses. I wasn't given an entrance test, hell I didn't even know I applied for this school and here I was listening to this weirdo talk as dreaded my first day more than ever.

"I also got in because I have famously rich parents," he joked. "But it's my grades that secure my place." He smirked and pushed invisible dust off his shoulders.

I smiled a bit when I felt the air shift from suffocatingly serious to the relaxing fun we had between us before. I realized that unlike most he chose to help me and not let my walk into this semi-familiar world blinded. Without fully exposing the interior he scratched the surface.

"So what's your standpoint in the schools implied hierarchy?" I asked.

"Our hierarchy," he said with air quotes. "Depends entirely on who you hang out with. And I hang out with the VIPs." A smile grew on my face as he buffed his chest boastful.

"Of course." I laughed.

Our conversation ended up in a debate on whether fashion is real art. Up until now, I believed it wasn't, because clothes were just clothes and it didn't take a genius to throw an outfit together. Painting, sculpting and drawing required skill and an untouched imagination. Not everyone can draw a flower that when looked into deeper it was something entirely different, or reflected the entirety of your being on a canvas that could still be open to interpretation. Art inspired fashion.

Rowen exhaled and shook his head. "To have the ability to conjure up a look in your head that no one else has thought of before and make everyone love it. Is the exact creativeness and imagination you need to be a great fashion designer." He leaned closer to me making sure I heard the emphasis on every word.

As he continued to speak I noticed that this was a topic of great deal to him. It showed me how passionate he was about what he loves to do; fashion.

"It's art because sets of clothes put together can tell a story that is open for viewer dissection. It connects people and gets them talking. The making of the art-sewing, quilting, appliqué-these skills on fabric express your creativity," he explained.

"Fashion inspires art," he finished zealously and I couldn't help but smile.

"I still think anyone can style clothes," I said with an arrogant shrug.

"I'll hold you to that," he said with a mischievous look in his eye. Concerned, my eyebrows frowned.

"Wanna go back inside?" I asked already getting up.

"Yes, please. It's extremely cold." He shivered, standing up with me.

"You have a jacket on." I pointed out as I pushed open the door.

"And you don't which is ridiculous," he chastised. We stepped inside and the warmth welcomed us with heated hugs.

"Oh!" I plopped down on the bed, exhausted. It was about 1 am. I was still in my outfit from tonight and had zero motivation to get up from my bed and change. I was just too comfortable.

While I contemplated changing Rowen undressed his upper body before he headed to the bathroom. Speechless is what I believe I was when I stared indiscreetly at his gorgeously slim-toned body. It was clear why he was a model.

He walked back out covered in a silk pants and robe set. I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes wide as they followed him to the other end of the bed.

"That's what you wear to sleep?" I asked, eyeing the grey dot patterned pajama piece. It looked too elegant to sleep in.

"It keeps the moisture in my skin," he told me as he fluffed the pillows and lifted the comforter.

"You're going to sleep right now?"

"Yes. It's been a long day," he said and climbed under the covers. His feet kicking me to ease off the end of the blanket. I scowled at him before I got up and changed into my very mediocre pajamas. A tank top and shorts with bunnies on them.

I climbed into the bed next to him. He had already pulled his eye mask down. I clicked the switch above my head and snuggled into the sheet.

Hoping he hadn't drifted off yet I said, "Thanks for accepting my invite."

"Thanks for inviting me," he replied.

"Goodnight," I said then turned away from him.

I felt comfortable with him. This entire night was like a catch up with an old friend. Rowen was a relief to be around after everything. I found myself praying I wasn't mistaking simple kindness or tolerance for a newfound friendship.

I was about to drift off when he whispered my name. "Hmm," I grumbled, turning my head back towards him.

"A smooth sailing year at Stonewell excludes Wylder," he said softly but sternly like a warning.

I chose to not respond because I didn't know how to.

I woke up to a knock at the door. Half a asleep I thought I dreamt it but the loudness of the third thump told me otherwise. I rubbed my eyes as I reluctantly stepped out of bed. I envied Rowen who continued to sleep like a baby.

"Eden." I heard her whisper from the other side of the door. Of course she was bothering me at this hour. I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth.

"Yes?" I replied opening the door.

"Were you sleeping?" She asked stupidly with a hushed tone as she took peeks into the room.

I didn't answer her question. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past four," she told me.

I noticed her agitation by the way she fiddled with her hands. Her posh demeanor and her exceeding confidence in self non existent. "What's wrong?" I asked trying to decipher the troubled look on her face.

"Nothing, never mind." She took a step back. "I'm sorry I woke you," she said timidly.

I scoffed and stepped pass the door then closed it behind me. "You just apologized, something's wrong." I folded my arms.

A slight smile flashed on her face before it faded. "Is your friend sleeping?" She asked and I nodded in response.

"I can't sleep," she said finally. I sighed and gave her a weak smile.

"It's the house," I informed her, locking her elbows with mine. "It's too big," I stated surely as we walked down the hall to her room.

"I miss the old one." I looked at her.

"Me too," she admitted surprisingly.

We entered her plain room. I knew the lack of colour and familiarity bothered her. Like a baby chimp in a new habitat without his family and friends, she was lost without her designer items. Nothing was up to her elaborate standards. It was too modern. Tomorrow she would complain about it. The open suitcases and drawers indicated that she had been unpacking earlier.

"Where's dad?" I asked her.

"Gone." She took a breath and sat on her bed then exhaled.

"Gone where?" I looked at her confused as I stood by the open door.

"Out."

"What do you mean?"

"That's what he said," she sulked.

I nodded with realization as I walked towards her on the bed. "You can't sleep because you're worried about what he's doing."

"Mom," I said softly when I sat down beside her. "I won't placate your worries with lies. You're the one that chose to continue with this lifestyle."

"Dad's a dick," I blurted uncaring. "You know it, I know it. We all know it."

She glanced at me and graced me with the unfamiliar sound of her laughter-soft, almost soothing but there was pain deeply rooted in it. I gave a sympathetic smile and patted her back before she dropped her head in her palms.

I have to admit I felt a little bad. Seeing her like this fragile thing reminded me of the softhearted mother I once knew. She never cried in front of me and I knew she wouldn't now, but her allowing me to see her even in this state made me feel like our relationship was fixable.

We fell asleep watching Schitt's Creek on her laptop. My first night here I rate a seven out of ten. It was a bit of a promising start which only meant things would get worse.