I give him an incredulous look, my eyes narrowing before I say "If it involves me jumping from car roofs again or anything illegal, you can definitely count me out"
His face brightens up with a smile and his throat rumbles with a chuckle under his breath. "No, it's nothing like that. Just follow me."
He turns and walks out my door, waiting for me outside my room with his hands in his jeans pockets. I tuck the last of the loose laces dangling from the knot I tied into my shoes before slinging my bag over my shoulder and joining him.
He goes barely 3 metres, simply facing the door opposite to the one for my room and turning the brass handle on the dark cherry wood door. I step with him inside into what must be his own room, sunlight pouring in through a bay window (which I'm beginning to realize are common throughout the house) with wooden frames.
The room is large like mine and dark wooden cupboards and shelves (containing many books) line the one side of the room. The other side holds a large, dark cherry wood writing desk with a wooden backed chair. A canopy bed, similar to the ones like the bed I slept in last night and Clarisse's lies in the corner of the room on the side of the writing desk.
The columns holding up the canopy are also made of dark wood while the sheet is dark navy with smoky grey cushions adorning it. There's an unlit grey stone fireplace with a stack of wood lying in a basket next to it.