"Prove Me Wrong" -- Chapter 1

Chapter 1

[[a/n: if there are spelling mistakes, sorry. i'll proofread eventually, i just wanted to post it cause i'm excited that i actually wrote so much at one time!!! hahah :) -- also the lack of spacing and big clumpy paragraphs haha again too lazy ;p]]

~Leila~

Dear Someone,
Life is a terminal disease. I read that somewhere once, and ever since I’ve gradually come to realize just how true that is. Everyone’s gonna die one day—some sooner than others. I have a congenital heart defect. It’s called Atrial Septal Defect or ASD. It’s something like a heart murmur, only…I can have a heart attack and die at any moment.
I have decided to document every year of the rest of my life (starting with this one—my senior year of high school) in this “journal/book” of mine because I’ve been thinking about a lot lately…I mean about things like just how good life can be no matter how bad off you think you might be (like me, freaky heart girl), and I guess I just wanna show the world that no matter what your problems are you can still find hope and happiness in everything you do. And if my journal ever gets published I want the world to know it too.

“Leila, dinner’s ready! Our guests should be here any minute!” My Aunty Lalita called from the bottom of the steps, pulling me back from that place in my mind where I go to when I’m writing.

“Coming!” I yelled back, clicking the tiny blue disc at the top left corner of my word document, saving the first paragraph of my new journal/book.

Hmm, the guests, I thought to myself before rolling off my bed where I was typing to the mirror making sure I didn’t have bed head hair or ruffle my clothes too much. Aunty was always particular about those things.

The guests she was referring to were our new neighbors, the Cole’s, who just moved in across the street. All I knew about them was that they were your seemingly typical run-of-the-mill American family: mother, father, and two teenage kids. They were from somewhere in Montana, of all places. According to Aunty Julia, they moved here this summer to Cape Town, Rhode Island for Mr. Cole’s job.

I myself had moved frequently when I lived with my parents. They died when I was fourteen in
a car crash. My aunt and uncle became my guardians. They’ve been so good to me these past four years.

Done checking my reflection, I walked downstairs to dinner. I reached the bottom step when the doorbell rang its familiar drawn out tune. Aunty Lalita came out of the kitchen looking as composed and beautiful as ever in her suburban housewife apron to answer the door. She stopped a moment looking me over to make sure I was presentable—of course.

“Go help your uncle heat up the souffle. He has no clue what he's doing.” She told me while brushing through my long wavy hair with her slender fingers.

I nodded, turning towards the kitchen while she went to answer the door.

~Channing~

“Stop texting, it’s not very polite you know,” I told my 13 year old sister, Marianne, with a smirk and just loud enough for my parents to hear.

“Mari, put that away! And Channing stop trying to get your sister in trouble.” My mom scolded us as my dad rung the doorbell. We were outside of the Scotts, our new neighbors’ house, where we had been invited for dinner.

Mari stuck her tongue out at me—so childish. I laughed quietly, and messed up her hair.

“Hey!” She exclaimed indignantly, just as the door opened.

“What?” I whispered back, looking innocent.

“Jane, Eric, welcome to our home! How are you?” A pretty middle-eastern looking lady with a British accent, asked my parents. She had a genuinely kind smile on her face, and I assumed that this was Mrs. Scott.

“We’re doing great, Mrs. Scott, thanks so much for having us over for dinner. The invitation was so very kind of you.” My mom told her, shaking her hand.

“Please, call me Lalita, and you are quite welcome, it was no problem. Come on in.” She said, gesturing for us to enter the house.

“Oh and these are our children, Marianne is 13, and Channing is 18.” Dad said, as we all walked towards the living room area.

“Nice to meet you Channing and Marianne,” Mrs. Scott greeted us, shaking our hands.

We were now all seated on the cool black leather couches in the living room.

“Well, my husband, Asher and my niece, Leila are in the kitchen finishing up dinner. Excuse me, let me go get them.” She smiled politely and got up.

Hmm, she has a niece…wonder if she’s hot. I let my mind wander as I slouched back on the comfy couch. My sister was back at the texting, and my parents were looking around the house talking quietly about all art on the walls and furniture and boring old people stuff.

I missed Billings, and Montana’s mountains and my friends. I could be chillin’ with them playing ball or something—anything but this. I missed my ex-girlfriend too…a little. Vicky Vinland. She was easy on the eyes, and I have a thing for the tiny straight-haired brunette types, brown or blue eyes, I’m flexible. I missed the making out and the fooling around because really that’s all we did. It wasn’t must of a “deep relationship” since her brain was pretty much filled with air. And yeah sure, she was getting boring anyway. We’d only been together for like 2 months, and I already felt like it was time for me to “explore” new options.

Then there was Kara. Oh and Taren and Nina. They’re my three closest friends who were girls. At one point in time I’d dated Nina and Taren, and sure maybe along the way our “friendship” became more of a convenient, “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” sort of thing. I wasn’t complaining though. I love girls, simple as that.

What Kara and I had wasn’t like what I had with Taren and Nina, though. Sure, I may have liked her in the 8th grade, after I broke up with this girl whose name I totally forgot come to think of it. Well I’d been dating for like 2 years and thought I was in love, yeah no, I dumped her because she got to clingy, always so jealous of all my other friends and constantly thought I was cheating; it really gets annoying after awhile, even if I may have been in her book, I mean it’s a hard thing to define – “cheating.” But yeah, I always kind of had a thing for Kara, while I was with what’s her face. Come on though, technically it’s not cheating unless you kiss a girl who’s not your girlfriend, riiight? One of my guy friends, Chad, told me that once. It turned out though that Kara was seriously in love with this 7th grader, who I was friends with, and only saw me as a friend. So I gave that up eventually, and we just stayed friends. Over time we got pretty close, surprisingly without me wanting to get in her pants, which was rare for me, ‘cause dude, 4 words—Kara is a babe. She’s got milky white skin, curly blond hair, and green eyes. Damn. It’s funny how I still remember all of that 4 years later, but those were some good times, and believe it or not high school’s been kind of a drag. Parties, sex, drinking, sports, what more could a guy want? Good question…still trying to figure that out.

Jeeze, this lady was taking a long time. And what is that burning smell?

~Leila~

Only Uncle Asher could manage to burn an empty pot.

After I came in to help him finish the noodles, I saw that he already took them out, not noticing that he put the empty pot back on the stove that he forgot to turn off. Until the burning smell of course.

“Asher! You forgot to turn off the stove!” Aunty scolded him, while I was putting the last of the food on the dining room table. The guests were still waiting in the living room.

“Oh, I did? I was wondering where that burning smell was coming from…Sorry, dear. I still don’t know why I’m even in the kitchen, it should probably be a hazard…” he mumbled.

My aunt thankfully didn’t hear that last part. I laughed quietly at my uncle.
“We can’t keep the guests waiting any longer. Is everything ready now?” She asked me.
“Yup, pretty much,” I told her.
“Alright, Asher wipe the flour off your face. Leila take the apron off. Everyone ready? Okay, time for some more introductions.”
We made our way towards the door that lead to our living room.
The Cole’s were an attractive looking family to say the least. The man I assumed to be Mr. Cole was an older-looking man, possibly in his early 50s with the wavy elegantly graying hair to prove it. He looked like an actor with his hard to forget emerald green eyes. Mrs. Cole was a petite woman with a sweet looking round face and prominent little dimples when she smiled. She had a shock of curly red hair and deep blue eyes. The teenage girl on her phone texting looked almost exactly like a slightly shorter version of her mother, only with the same color eyes as her father. And then there was the son.
Damnn…
The boy looked like a freaking Calvin Cline model. He had the perfect cross between wavy and curly hair that you just wanted to run your finger through out of instinct. It was a little long and golden like a toasted waffle. And his eyes, which were identical to his father’s and sister’s, were hidden behind the longest most perfect lashes ever. He had slight freckles across the bridge of his nose. Even in his simple attire of jeans and a long sleeved blue shirt, you could tell that he had an athlete’s body, perfectly sculpted at all the right places.
Good Lord. Down girl. I hope to God that my first impression of his guy is not showing on my face right now. I wanted to laugh, so bad. How was it possible for someone to look that perfect? I wonder if he’s completely obsessed with himself like I’m sure every girl he’s ever met is. If that’s the case then you can sure as hell count me off that list. Alright, Calvin Cline, let’s see what you got.
I actually hoped he’d prove me wrong.

~Channing~
Hello, Beautiful. Now I definitely hope to God that all the girls in this little town look like that.
Out of the three people that came out when that door opened, the first and hardest to miss was the girl, who I assumed was the niece, Mrs. Scott mentioned earlier.
The girl had long layered wavy dark brown hair with subtle plum highlights that were so dark you had to do a double take to notice them. Her skin was like caramel, not too light, not too dark, but perfectly in between. I concluded that she must have been mixed. Her eyes were what got me though. They were almond shaped and brown with a purple-ish hue.
Holy shit. Purple eyes?! That is so awesome.
She was wearing a white summer dress that ended a little above her knees with a thin sweater over it. She wasn’t rake skinny like most of the chicks I knew, no, she was curvy in all the right places and nicely stacked. Definite plus.
You know, I think I might like this town after all.
Leila, wasn’t it? Well baby, you can have me on my knees anytime you want.

Mrs. Scott gave the introductions.
“Jane, Eric, this is my husband Asher. Asher this is Jane and Eric and they’re son, Channing and daughter, Marianne. And this is our niece, Leila.”
Handshakes were exchanged, but when it was my turn with Leila, I couldn’t keep my eyes off this girl. I had saw her give me a once over earlier and wondered if she approved. I smiled my usual cocky smile that asked, like what you see? And let my palm linger on hers a little longer than was necessary. She had a strong grip though, small hands, but in no way delicate really. They were soft, but there was a hint of hard work in them.
“Hey.” I said. Simple and sweet.
She just smiled this mysterious smile, like she knew something I didn’t.

“Well let’s all sit down for a bit, shall we? Have a chat before dinner.” Mrs. Scott suggested. We all sat. Scotts on one couch and Coles on the other. I relaxed into the black leather, sitting back to enjoy the enthralling girl sitting across from me.

~Leila~

Total cock. That much was more than obvious. I could tell as soon as he gave me the “hi, I’m full of shit” smirk that he was just another typical arrogant sex-crazed jerk-off. Yet, still I kept up the sweet smile and formalities. I know how to play your game, baby.
It was a shame though. Besides my best guy friend Aiden Prince, most of the guys at Cape Town High were brainless horny retards or way too nerdy for my taste. Yeah, pretty much, those are the two categories they fit into. Aiden was the artsy type like me and my other best friend Quince Martin, they’d been dating for about 6 months now since I had finally gotten them together, after much begging from Aiden, at one of our lame school dances. Aiden had been completely crazy about Quince for I don’t even know how long, but she never really paid him much mind as anything more than the reliable guy friend. She was usually caught up in a new boy toy every month – she went through a team every year, football guys, soccer guys, baseball guys…yeah, you get the idea. When she found out Aiden liked her though, she actually decided to give him a chance, even though she wasn’t really into anyone but the jocky type, and they completely hit it off. Just like that. Of course now I’m somewhat like the third wheel, but it’s all good. I knew they still love me, and I just want them to be happy.
I’d been best friends with Quinc since 8th grade, when I moved in with my aunt and uncle. She sat next to me in my first class and was super friendly. We later realized that we both loved a lot of the same things, same type of music (Three Days Grace, all the way, baby), loved art, and were obsessed with movies. In terms of looks though, we’re complete opposites, she’s blond, I’m brunette, she has gray eyes, I have brownish purple-ish ones. My eyes are like that because of a birth defect, but a damn cool one. I used to hate my eyes when I was younger because the kids at school would make fun of me since I was so different looking from everyone else. I mean the fact that my mother was a British Israeli woman and my dad was black and Native American, didn’t exactly result in a common looking child. I looked like a mix of everything – black, Native American, and Israeli. As I grew older though, I realized how special and unique I was, and that people made fun of what they didn’t understand and what they were jealous of, all the cultures and races that flowed through the blood in my veins.
Anyways, back to my other train of thought. I hoped this Channing guy was different – one of the few guys in this world that I’ve been waiting for, maybe that he was someone to prove me wrong. I haven’t had a boyfriend since freshman year (and I’m a senior now). Not since my first boyfriend and my first love. Sure I was a bit young for love, but I knew what I felt, and even after everything I still think I was truly in love. His name was Will Mackenzie. He had the warmest sweetest golden eyes I had ever seen, they were like honey, and long wavy dirty blond hair. Will and I had started dated in 8th grade. He was friends with Quince and when I met him, we just sort of…clicked. He and I became best friends and the three of us were super close. Then Will and I became more than friends, and Quinc was left to be the third wheel (funny coincidence, right? Maybe it’s karma), we still all hung out together though. I loved Will with all my heart and he loved me too. Back then, I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with him. I didn’t think anything better could ever come along and I didn’t think anything could ever change that.

Half way into freshman year, Will found out that his dad’s company was transferring him to some random New Jersey town, which meant his family would be going with, which meant that Will was leaving Cape Town and leaving me. We promised to keep in touch as best friends, but we broke up, as a mutual thing. We were both too young for any kind of major long distance relationship. The friends thing was harder that we thought it would be. The fact that we’d been in love for two years wouldn’t just disappear and even after he started dating again and even though we were so far apart, he came back to me. But we were both different people, older, and we both kept falling in love with the people we used to know and we realized that it was no use pretending to be best friends and living in the past when we both wanted more but couldn’t have it. Talking every day was too hard. So we decided to stop and just live out own lives, separately, and if we met again one day then maybe we were really meant to be. The meant to be thing is what he always said. But really in the end, he had to let me go because he was sick of being in love with a girl he could never have or see or touch or kiss. It would never be enough. What’s a good way to put it? How about…he’s a guy, and guy’s have needs. True love, my ass. When I think back on my first serious relationship, I still don’t know what to think. All guys are the same? Hormones vs. Love. What’s a girl to do?

“So what do you say, Leila?” Aunt Lalita asked me.
“Huh?”
Yeah, that was really the best I could think of. Probably should’ve been paying attention…eh em.

~Channing~

I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud. No one heard, but her though. And she glared at me as she was trying to figure out what her aunt was talking about. I’d been watching her for the past 5 minutes as she stared off into space, her mind wandering away from the boring small talk we both had to sit through. She didn’t notice me staring though, or if she did she didn’t acknowledge me in any way. I wished I could read minds.
“I was just telling Mrs. Cole here how you’d be happy to show Channing here around town tomorrow. And that maybe you could introduce Marianne to Quince’s little sister, Julia. She’s in 9th grade too now, right?”
“Oh, right yes, of course. She is, I’ll call Quince tomorrow and ask her about it.” Leila replied, smiling at my sister, subtly ignoring me, and continently dodging answering her aunt’s request to show me around town, all at the same time. Well, I do like ‘em feisty. It’s even more when they play hard to get, adds an extra “something” to the conquest.
Yet something in the back of my head told me otherwise. This girl was different…special. There was something more to her, and with nothing more than a first impression and a handshake, I had barely even skimmed the surface.

“And you’ll show Channing around town as well?” Her aunt obviously did not have a sketchy memory.
“Uh…” she smiled politely at my mother, and then glanced at me. 3 seconds. “I’d love to.”

~Leila~

“I’d love to.”
Liar.
How did I get into this again? Oh, yeah. Thank you Aunty L. Really, I love you like crazy right now. I glared at my aunt in my mind as she went back to talking to Mrs. Cole. Mr. Cole and my uncle were talking about mortgages or something boring like that. Marianne was texting again. And Channing was…staring at me? Real subtle, dude. I’m not that exotic looking, am i? I gave him one of his like what you see? smirks. Let’s chat, shall we?
“So…Channing, was it? What time should I pick you up tomorrow? We can take my car, if you don’t mind, that is.”
“Don’t mind at all. 7 is good.” He replied with that insipid smirk still on his perfect face. And yes sure it wasn’t exactly a secret that I did not want to be his own personal pocket tour guide, but still, rubbing it in was just plain…plain…was just a dickmove. Good word.
“7…in the morning?” No one, teenager at least, in their right mind wakes up before 10 during the summer. What was this guy on?
He laughed at the expression on my face. I decided I liked his laugh; it was one of those laughs that couldn’t be annoying, even if you wanted it to be and even if you wanted to hit him because he was laughing – at you. Following that decision, I quickly took it back and buried that thought in a vault in the back of my head where I also kept my earlier thoughts/descriptions of his Calvin Cline model hotness, and threw away the key. This is just a game to him – one that I plan on winning.
“Yeah, I usually get up at like 6 for my run, so I’ll be ready by 7.”
“Oh, I see. So you’re a runner then?” Hmm…I liked that. I used to run until 7th grade when I found out about my heart condition. I was a sprinter, but after that I couldn’t do any sports that trained as hard as Track did.
He nodded his head.
“Track and Basketball. You do any sports?” He asked, looking genuinely interested in learning about me. Or maybe putting his hidden acting talents to good use.
I crossed legs, revealing some skin in the process, and followed his eyes the whole time. Typical.
“I ran track until 7th grade. Why is quit, is a long story. I was sprinter, jumper, and threw jav. What events do you do?”
“Same as you almost, sprints and jav. So long story, huh? Code for, none of my business?”
Smart cookie.
I gave him an innocent almost smile. “Yeah, something like that.”
He was starting strait into my eyes the whole time as we asked these simple questions back and forth, as though we were unlocking the secrets of the universe. We said nothing for a few seconds after I replied and his gaze was intense. I had to look away first. It was as if I was hiding something I didn’t want him to see. My secret vault maybe? Get it together, Leila. He’s a player. I had to keep reminding myself. What was wrong with me?


~Channing~
This girl was mesmerizing from the way she spoke to the way she sat to the way the words moved her mouth as she spoke. Her purple eyes were so deep and so secretive, I couldn’t stop staring, thinking that maybe if I looked long enough I would figure her out. Honestly, it was frustrating, wanting to know more about this girl than whether or not she was a virgin (though, I did want to know that too. Oh and if she has a boyfriend? Can’t forget that one), and it taking so long to find out.
It’s obvious she doesn’t like me because she’s not swooning over my good looks. That was frustrating also. I could always get any girl I wanted with little less than a smile, but it was going to take more than that to even become friends with this girl. That much was obvious. She knows what’s she doing though. She’s playing my game.
And that makes her even more unattainably attractive.

The adults were now standing up from their seats and that brought me back to focus.
“Ready to eat, kids?”
Hell yes. My stomach growled.

~Leila~

Dinner was delicious as usual. My aunt being a gourmet chef had made a delicious corn and squash soufflé (our earlier kitchen mishap had occurred because my uncle had been left with the task of finishing the soufflé, but it still tasted wonderful, so you couldn’t even tell he had been anywhere near it) with braised lamb shanks, boiled potatoes, vegetables, and her famous to-die-for tiramisu. The rich heavenly chocolate was like an orgasm in your mouth.
And I could see out guest thought so too and were more than impressed.
“Lalita, you didn’t tell us you were a chef!” Mrs. Scott exclaimed, delightfully shocked at the revelation.
“Oh, yes well I didn’t think it was that important a detail really.” My aunt replied, modest and sweet as usual.
“My God this is amazing! You have to teach my wife how to make this! Wow. Marvelous. Simply mouth watering.” Mr. Scott praised the heavenly tiramisu.
Even Channing loved the food, so much so, I almost forgot what an arrogant prick he was as he was so busy eating and not talking or smirking at me.
“I’ll clear the dishes, Aunty.” I told her once I had seen that everyone was finished eating.
“And I’ll help.” Channing announced out of nowhere. His parents were obviously shocked at this chivalrous offer, as was I. Ulterior motive, anyone?
“Nonsense, Channing. Your our guest!” My aunt protested in the process of getting up from her chair.
“No, really its fine, I insist. It’s the least I can do after being served such a delicious meal, Mrs. Scott.”
Really laying it on thick aren’t you, Mr. Cline? My aunts married you know, so you can stop that train of thought right there if you’re wanting to get in her pants too, Sicko.
Smiling butt-kissing Channing glanced at me as if he could hear my slanderous thoughts.
My aunt smiled at him, most likely thinking oh, what a sweet gentlemanly young man. “Well alright, if you insist.” She relented.
Okay, great, show’s over. I walked into the kitchen with a few plates and Channing right behind me with the rest. As the swinging door closed, I could hear his parents in the dining room lying through their teeth about how “yes, he does it all the time at home.” I rolled my eyes. Everyone at that table, except my oblivious, “always see the good in people” aunt and uncle, knew that Channing was anything but the angelic young gentleman.
“Okay, listen dude, I don’t know what you’re up to, trying to make my aunt and uncle think you’re some of innocent Little Boy Blue, but seriously, everyone but them can see right through you, as I’m sure you know.”
He laughed. Vault in the back of my head, threw away the key, bad thoughts, bad thoughts.
“Whoa whoa, calm down. I’m not some kind of con man with a big bad criminal plan.” He had his hands up in defense then put them down, pausing for a sec as if trying to figure out how to phrase what he was going to say next. “I just wanted to talk to you, away from the families.”
I was about to let the suspicion show blatantly on my face, but then I stopped myself. How was I playing this again? Hot and Cold? Or just cold? Because I think my natural instincts as Ice Queen against his type were kicking in, and I was forgetting about the game. Play it cool. Calm down. Who has the most control? Me. Why? Guys are easy. The exact opposite of Silly Putty; you play with that stuff, it’s soft and squishy and when you leave it alone, it gets hard.
I visibly relaxed, uncrossed my arms, and came out of my defensive stance.
Turning the slightly flirty voice on, but still slightly skeptical for believability’s sake, I asked, “Oh, is that so? And what exactly was it that you wanted to talk about that had to be done alone?”
He put his hands in his pockets slightly rocking back on his heels to give himself time to think about his answer to that. I noticed he was wearing red converse. Not that I’m about to say this about Mr. Douche Bag, but I love a guy in converse. Always have. So hot.
“Umm, tomorrow! Yeah, you know, our Tour Date.” He smirked.
Ah, good one, Chuck Taylor. Nice save, very smooth.
Letting my amusement show, I said, “First off, not a date, but what exactly would you like to discuss about it?”
He picked up some plates from off the counter and put them in the sink for something to do.
“You know, just stuff. Like what’s there to do in this town? It’s way smaller then Billings, where we used to live. Seems kind of…dead.”
“Oh, what are you insulting my town now, Montana? Mind if I call you that?” I laughed and before he could answer said, “Good, I like it. Anyways, yes there is stuff to do in Cape Town. There’s a pool in about every house in town and then there’s that big blue watery looking thing called the sea, if you’re into boating. My best friend has a boat, and he takes me and his girlfriend, my other best friend, out all the time. I might let you come along, if I decide I like you, which I haven’t done yet. Then there are yacht parties people throw. It’s kind of a free for all since it’s such a small town. If you go to Cape Town, which you now do, then you’re invited unless you get kicked out. That’d be a good way to meet people before school, and you got like two weeks. Also there’s The Lighthouse.”
“Like an actual lighthouse?” He sounded fascinated by the thought. Poor sheltered child.
“Been stuck in the mountains all your life, love?” I smiled at him. “Yes those are everywhere, but The Lighthouse I’m talking about is the best movie theater in town. It’s kind of small, but in an artsy cozy antique kind of way. It’s seriously awesome -- if you’re into that kind of thing. I can’t really tell if you’re the movie type from what I know about you, which isn’t much. All I got so far is morning person and jock – both my complete opposites.”
“Hey, we might have more in common than you think, Miss Scott. Yes, I love movies. That’s usually how I spend my free time.” He said. Hmm…interesting…
“Actually it’s Lovelle – my last name.” I informed him.
“Oh, my bad. Okay, Miss Lovelle then. So we should probably get back outside, everyone’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long. We can talk more tomorrow. ‘Cause, you know, we’ll have all day, alone, just you and me. Alone.” He winked suggestively, but I could tell he was just playing.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Yeah, thanks dude I got that. I’ll try to bear it. Let’s go.” I nodded towards the door.
“Ladies first.”
I arched my eyebrows as I looked up with him and my expression clearly said you? A gentleman? Scoff. Then I walked on in front of him to give him a clear view of my backside, which is what he wanted to see. Unfortunately for him, the dress didn’t show much.

~Channing~

The dress didn’t show much. I’d have to save my assessment of her ass for another time. What? I can’t help it. The beast inside of me just keeps coming out because the fact is I’m a man and she’s…she’s so enthralling without even trying to be. No amount of “down boy” is going to change my true nature.
When we came back to the dining room, everyone was already gone. There were voices coming from the living room so we reasonably deduced that they got tired of waiting for us and ditched.
“There you are! At least tell me you washed the dishes and that’s what took you so long.” Mrs. Scott laughed clearly amused. Actually with a little more amusement than the situation called for. My parents and Mr. Scott joined in like she had just told the funniest joke in the world.
Bingo.
Almost drained wine glasses and opened bottles. How long had we been in the kitchen now?
Marianne, sitting in a reclining chair in the corner, looked bored out of her mind. She looked at me, rolled her eyes, and then went back to her phone.
I looked at Leila, she shrugged.
“Okay, Parents Dearest, I think it’s time to say good night, it’s probably pretty late.” I took out my phone, which said 9:30. “Yep, it’s 9:30, and Mari’s pretty tired, aren’t you, sis?”
Mari put on the tired sad pout for our mom’s benefit. When in need, rely on a mother’s love. She still treated Mari like her little baby. Sucked for her.
“Oh, yes yes of course! We should really be getting home now.” My mom came back to reality.
“It was very nice to meet you, Lalita, Asher.” My dad put in. Handshakes were exchanged. “Thank you for the wonderful dinner.”
“Yeah, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Scott.” I said, genuinely thankful for the great food. Mrs. Scott kicked ass at cooking, where as my mother…eh, not so much. Of course, I would never say that out loud.
My sister smiled, “Thank you.”
“I’ll call you sometime this week, Lalita, and you can teach me how to make that divine tiramisu.” My mom said to Mrs. Scott.
“Oh, that sounds wonderful, Jane. It was a lovely time. You guys have a good night now.” Mrs. Scott smiled at us as we were now at the door.
“And if you need any help with yard work and what not you give me a call too, Eric.” Mr. Scott offered.
“Will do, Asher.” They shook hands again.
My sister was already out the door.
“See you tomorrow, Leila.” I smiled at the pretty purple eyed girl.
She nodded her head at me and smiled ever so slightly. “See ya.”
As so soon as she was out of my sight, I knew it wouldn’t be easy getting that girl out of my head until I saw her again. Damn…this wasn’t good. At the same time though, I didn’t really mind.

Leila Lovelle, who are you and what the hell have you done to me?

~Leila~

Dear Someone,
So…I met this guy today. Well this guy + his whole family. They’re our new next door neighbors, the Coles, who just moved here from middle-of-nowhere Billings, Montana. They have a son and daughter – Channing, who’s in my grade and Marianne, a freshman.
Channing Cole a.k.a. “Montana” (as I so appropriately nicknamed him – total spur of the moment thing). It’s hard to describe my exact opinion towards him. He’s freaking flawlessly handsome. He has longish wavy/curly toasted waffle blond hair, the perfectly sculpted athlete’s body, and the deepest most penetrating emerald green eyes I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, they’re amazing.
See the thing is, he’s a player and arrogant and completely full of himself. All of this I could tell from his first smile/smirk. I know his type; I’ve gone to school with his type for 3 years. He likes to play games and he’s all about the conquest. He’s the kind of guy any smart girl would stay far far away from because he’s a horny sex-crazed bastard who breaks hearts for fun. I must not be very smart then. I don’t know, it’s just…there’s just something about him…something that I can’t quite place. Like there’s more him than just a player beneath the surface and his “I’m just a jock” outer layer. Like a cake. I’ve only tasted the first layer of him, but maybe there’s more or maybe I’m stupid and being poisoned by his hotness with “false hope” that I’ve meet a guy with the capacity to prove me wrong about the masculine sex. God knows. Hey man, that cake thing was kind of dirty wasn’t it? Haha, funny, I still like it though…my great analogies…okay, I’m mumbling, sleep is calling me. I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about my All Day Outing Alone with Montana (yeah, it’s a long story. Hint: it’s Aunty Lalita’s fault I’m stuck with him, but as they say…something something make the most of difficult situations. I will survive [good song too] and so on…)

"An Adams Family Portrait" [[among other things]]

good lord.

everytime i come back to this blog something new and comepletely different from my last post has happened. nothing ever stays the same for long....good thing or bad thing? i don't particularly know at the moment, but what i do know is that i am more than content living in my onw little world of fictional characters. hahah writing is like my comfort zone. i was up until 5something in the morning working one this old story that i forgot about last fall...i started it on one of those nights when something bad had happened and i just needed a quick fix, so to speak....that's what i do. make up a story as a place to channel all that "bad energy". i usually feel better afterword and tell myself "okay, i'll be back to keep working on it tomorrow." but i always end up forgetting or me too lazy or being fine the next day so not needing it. maybe i am "a user". haha yeahh maybee.

oh and by the way, blogggy, this is the last time i'm gonna be mentioning B, in this blog. him and i are...well it's complicated how it ended but it was a mutual thing and we're just living our own lives now apart from each other. he's off doin whatever a 15 year old guy does with his summer. [[girls, girls, more girls. the usual]] - catering to his hormones. i really don't wanna blame him for wanting some physical action after so long, i mean it's typical of a guy his age. but then there the love thing...and the "meant to be" thing, and the fact that thinking about him still twinges a bit. but it doesn't happen often anymore, so for that i'm thankful. time is a good thing. we've promised to talk every 6 months so we don't completely forget each other. and there's been no more of him in my life [[cept that one dream....uh really random]] until Decenmber 1st.

moving on.

heyyy i'm thinkin i'm gonna let u read the first [[super longgg]] chapter of my current W.I.P. story!!!!

ohh and also i might be transferring to a new school here since my fam is moving to this god-forsaken 5 acre plot of shit land and building a house.

OR i'll somehow beg my dad to let me live with him/kidnap me from the hellhole that is my house and mommy dearest and her husband. just because she's suffering in that marriage she wants me to suffer as part of the family. BULLSHIT.

an so yeah i'm at the library, outside of it since it's closed sitting on the HARD CONCRETE GROUND with my computer plugged into the wall charging [[finding the outlet=miracle!!]] and my butt is sore, all because once again i couldn't keep my mouth shut and just broke and told her like it was [[with no respect at all, but i mean come on, the 3 adults in this family are in some messed up shit, swimming aorund and drowning in it]] and she of course finally got an outlet for her pent up anger, yeah your welcome mommy. she has this warped sense of "us against her". like we're both out to get her, but i'm the only one she can control. it's like the movie, Lolita -- minues the MAJOR creepyness so only SLIGHTLY like it. ew. EW. okay bad comparison. i wish to god that i had stayed at boarding school or that she'd send me to one....i didn't remember what i was getting myself into and now she'll never let me leave.

sophmore, junior, senior years of hell here i come!!!!! bright side bright side? my writing world andddd SCHOOL -- 7 hours of not being at home. hellz yesss thank u very much ;)

*and i am so damn used to this new school, new ppl, new friends thing it's almost like a hobby now. sad truth right ther ;p

xoxo,
Sera