Caged in Paradise (2nd Draft)

First Collision, His Eyes

Note: if you skipped to this part after reading the first chapter... I caught you. I really recommend reading the story from start to finish! This is an experimental/contemporary writing piece, and a lot more fun if you let the surprises... surprise you! Thank you for reading my story <3

I'm relaxing on the outdoor lounge, a refreshing iced latte in my hand, even though I'm wearing my dark sunglasses I have to squint. My head hurts. Alot. I slowly savor each sip of my coffee. A short distance away, my mother lounges on a sunbed, her gaze fixed on a magazine as she remarks, "I can't fathom why you persist in doing that to yourself..." her eyes remained on the pages without lifting her head.

"Doing what?" I ask with a hint of annoyance,while grunting I place the icepack on my forehead with my left hand. I release a deep exhale, finding relief as the coolness eases the throbbing headache.

In a gentle yet somewhat disinterested tone, she remarks, "You're drinking yourself into a hospital. It's worrisome how you're so addicted to pushing your own boundaries." She adopts this emotionless approach, knowing I'm unlikely to listen to her advice anyways.

Even though our constant conflicts ended years ago, I feel so much distance between me and my mother. I feel like back when we were always fighting she knew everything about me. Now, she knows nothing. She seems oblivious to the thoughts swirling in my mind or the conversations I've been having with my father over the past few weeks.

Is she genuinely unaware? Could she possibly share the same feelings I have, she just keeps them hidden? I've never really been able to read my mother, and when I ask questions... She remains vague.

I catch my dad sliding open the glass door behind me, "That trick you pulled with Nick the other night won't go unnoticed just because you disappeared for two days again." He strolls over to the lounge and settles into the chair beside me. Our housekeeper carefully walks over and hands us a plate of fruit. Leaning forward, I grab some grapes and say, "Thanks, Lucia." She winks back at me; the old lady has been with us since before I was born.

Next, Nick emerges from inside, towel-drying his hair. Shirtless and already sporting swim shorts, he plops down beside me on the lounge, soaking up the sunlight with a pair of dark sunglasses. He hardly ever comes over to my place, but when he does, he acts like he owns this mansion.

"Great, you're both here. I've got something important to discuss," my father starts, his voice sounds like the same voice he uses with our clients. It makes me want to throw this coffee in his face. He takes off his sunglasses, squinting briefly in the sunlight. I stay put, shooting him a disinterested glare, knowing he's about to give a lecture.

"Nick, if I hear my chauffeur fetching you at 5 am in the middle of nowhere again, your parents will hear from me. And you two better make up for that chaos during a crucial dinner with our new client. That first impression meant everything and you two screwed it up."

Nick and I remain silent, aware that any words now will set off my father, whose voice is already rising.

"I don't understand why you two are constantly fighting, but you need to sort it out. Now. Your petty conflicts won't matter in the real world you'll be facing soon. There's no room for your silly competitions or cockfights."

"Those competitions are the only thing I look forward to in my life," I respond straightforwardly.

My father lets out a heavy exhale, jaw clenched, before resuming his lecture. I sip my iced coffee, the cold soothing my head; I oddly enjoy the icey ache more than the pounding. Beside me, Nick reaches for the fruit on the table.