YAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!NEW! FANFIC! R&R. Disclaimer: I OWN THIS! PLEEZ CHECK MY PAGE FOR WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE PLEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!IM GONNA BE WRITING A LOTMORE STORIES NOW!!!!!!!!!
Chapter 1: Best Buds X10
"Mack! WAKE UP!!" Christofer pounded on my door.
"Go AWAY!" I grumbled and covered my face with the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to get more sleep.
The door opened and he stormed in "WAKE UP!" he yelled, even though it was obvious I was already awake.
"I said GO AWAY!"
"Come ON Mackie! We'll be late!" He knew how much I hated it when he called me Mackie, of course he knew that. He was basically my brother. But I loved him too much to yell at him for it.
"Don't call me Mackie!" I pushed him out of the way. "I have to get dressed. Puh-leasego away." I walked into my marble bathroom to brush my teeth.
"It's not like I'm gonna get turned on or anything. " He flopped back on the bed, grabbed the remote from my nightstand and switched on The Today Show. I peeked at him from the bathroom. I'm pretty sure he's gay, but I could really care less. Christofer and I have been best friends since I moved here in third grade from New York City. We're neighbors, but basically his home is my home, and my home is his home.
"Whatever." I set my toothbrush down and rinsed my mouth with Listerine. I walked toward my closet. Chris was in bed playing with his light brown highlights. He was wearing skinny jeans and a Nickasaur t-shirt. "Should I wear my matching Nickasaur t-shirt?" I asked sarcastically.
"NO WAY!" he laughed. "This is MY look for today. Dressing alike is SO three years old!" he rolled his big navy eyes.
"Well what should I wear?" I placed a hand on my hip.
"Something black and neon blue with skinny jeans and those checkered Converse." He said absentmindedly, engrossed in the news. My style was so different than most people in Beverly Hills, but it was what made me me. I was Mackenzie Cline, daughter of Clara Cline, one of the most famous actresses in the world. No way was I going to dress like a prep. I needed my own look. And the scene/emo thing was totally working for me. Of course, I was a perpetually happy person. No need to act emo or scene.
"Duh!" I smacked myself lightly in the head with my palm. Then I changed into his suggested outfit. "Perfect." I stared in the mirror. "Rate me!" I struck a pose and smiled goofily, throwing my platinum blonde hair over my thin shoulder. Thanks to extensions, it fell down to my waist.
He laughed. "No." He turned off the TV "You look fine!"
The car horn honked. "We'll be late! Come on, Chris!" I said as I pulled him out of the room.
"Do I look okay?" he giggled.
"No, you look crappy."
His face fell.
"I'm kidding. You look fine." I repeated his words from earlier.
We walked into the huge marble foyer and down the staircase to the front door. He opened it up for me, and we headed toward the black Escalade parked at the curb. My chauffeur, Filipe, opened the door for us as we got in, and shut it behind us. The sprawling green grass of my two-acre estate ended as we passed through the entrance/exit gates. We were on our way to the Beverly Hills Hotel, to have our weekly Saturday lunch, and it happened to be the first one of our summer. It was nice, since we both only lived about 10 minutes from the heart of Beverly Hills.
Chris rummaged through the mini-fridge in the car. "Do you have any Red Bull?" he asked.
"NO! Energy drinks are terrible for your health." I ran a hand through my extensions. "Plus, how disgusting is it to have energy drinks this early in the morning?"
"It's actually 12 in the afternoon." He informed me.
"Same difference," I pulled out an Evian water from the fridge. "Want some?" I offered, holding it up like one of those models who sell stuff.
As we pulled up to the hotel, I saw about seven paparazzi mingling outside, waiting for some famous person to walk by. I grinned my best you-know-I'm-more-beautiful-than-anyone-you've-ever-met smile as I got out of the car. Christofer was close behind me, and we ignored the paparazzo's questions and flashbulbs as we rushed inside. Being the daughter of Clara Cline and Robert Cline had its perks, but the paparazzo was totally a con.
Chris and I were thought to be a couple for a while, but it's obvious that we are just friends. There are sometimes I wish we were more than that. Christofer's dad, Sam Johnson works as the CEO of Johnson Agencies, and he represented everyone from Emma Roberts to the Jonas Brothers. Chris's mom had committed suicide when he was only 10. There are times when I know he's considering it too, since his dad could care less about him. I would never let him do that to himself. Losing someone like him would be like living in hell.
We sat down at our usual booth, a waiter came up. He looked new. Most of the staff at this restaurant knew what we usually had. "Hello, I'm Jeffery; I'll be your server today. Can I get you started with some drinks?"
"Sure. I'll have a half Red Bull half vodka, and-" Christofer started. I cut him off.
"I'll have hard lemonade." I smiled. "Just tell the kitchen staff we'll have the usual for Chris and Mack. They'll know what we mean." I handed him back our menus.
When the waiter, Jeffery or whatever, came back, he looked at us funny. "You guys seem a little young to be drinking. How old are you?"
I sighed and put down my glass. "We are fifteen and sixteen."
"Dude, we've been drinking since we were fourteen years old. No one cards kids like us. We ALL drink." Chris chimes in. I nod.
"Well, I'm gonna have to-" Jeffery started.
"Sorry guys, he's new." Alexis, our favorite waitress walked up. She waved Jeffrey off.
"Thanks Alexis." Chris smiled.
"I'll get your orders." She tucked her pen behind her ear and fluffed her pink pixie cut.
I sighed. Living like this was so cliché, but I loved it.
: ) So did you like it? I'm excited about it!
Here's what they look like: The guy is Mitchell Davis who's such a cutie and then the girl is some random girl I found.
Christofer Johnson:
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Mackenzie Cline:
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