UPDATE: 6/5/11
This isn't a new chapter, but I've rewritten and corrected it for a better reading experience for those peeps out there who are anal about grammar (don't worry I'm one of those people as well). It still isn't all that great, but I at least don't feel the urge to gouge my eyes out every time I read over it now.
Those who have read it previously, re-read it and tell me what you think now. Also, see if you can pinpoint any of the added material. Those who are just now reading it, you are some lucky *cuss word*s! Just messing, it wasn't that horrible (I don't think anyways...) but you are definitely getting a better read. Those that are new to the story please review as well cause I would love to hear your thoughts on the story also.
This is my first Fanfic but don't take it easy on me cause then I'll always expect you guys to take it easy on me =P
Disclaimer: I Do Not Own SoN, but if I did then Aiden would've been gay, along with the rest of the SoN crew, except for maybe Glen, Clay, and Chelsea. They would've just been Bi ^_^ Paula and Arthur do not count cause that's just weird to even consider Paula or Arthur gay…for me anyways idk about you crazy people =P
Songs/Strong Thoughts/Feelings
Song Titles
Emphasis
Normal (obviously)
Warning: If you have not figured out by now that this story contains G/G & B/B interaction then I have no idea how you are using a computer at this moment. Other things to be wary of are: Guy bashing, B/B/G & G/G/G, strong sexual themes, vulgarity, and random crazy talk. Explanation on guy bashing: Guys, in my experience have always been stupid and complete jackasses, most of the time. I don't think that all guys are stupid I just think that most of them act it, and that by no means makes me sexist fore I do not think one gender is inferior to the other, just that some have better perks *.^ But anyways, on with the story!
Spencer's POV
I awoke to the sound of Katy Perry's new hit single, Firework, blaring from my alarm clock. I quickly shut it off but allowed the music to continue playing as I arose from bed and got ready for my first day of my last school year.
I was really excited about being a senior, and for once I wasn't completely dreading school. I guess the realization that I wouldn't be there the following year was finally setting in and I was now completely set on making it the most memorable year possible.
15 minutes later I was done with my shower, and was currently brushing my teeth while another mainstream song played in the background. I looked at myself in the mirror and grinned before raising my toothbrush to my lips and belting out the lyrics to the song as my favorite part played.
"I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, saying aye-oh gotta let go
I want to celebrate and live my life, saying aye-oh, baby let's go"
Brushing my teeth was long forgotten as I was now dancing around my bedroom jamming out to the song, toothbrush as my microphone in one hand and air guitar in the other. I was completely oblivious to everything around me except the wondrous feeling that music always made me feel.
I heard someone clear their throat and almost dropped my "microphone" in shock at being caught. I turned around and was greeted with a very amused looking Glen. He had a smirk firmly plastered on his face at all times but this one just screamed blackmail.
And wouldn't you know? There was his brand spanking new sleek black Android conveniently pointing in my direction…
I sighed to myself and directed one of my best "don't fuck with me" glares at Glen, "What do you want ass-face? I thought I told you to knock before coming in my bedroom?" I gave him a smirk of my own, " Did you want a replay of what happened the last time you came in without my permission?"
Glen's smirk drained away at my threatening tone, along with all the blood in his brain, which wasn't much since his was so small it could only use half the amount a normal brain needed to function.
I could vaguely hear the crap song Like a G6 playing in the background as I stared my idiot of a brother down. Glen began to shake his head back and forth, as if he were trying to rid himself of something he didn't want playing around in his head.
I knew he was reliving his last unexpected visit to my bedroom and a malicious glint entered my eye. Glen chucked his Android in my direction before making a hasty exit down the hall. Looking very much like a whipped pup with his tail between his legs.
Ugh, Glen's tail between his legs…. Gawd, that's soo an image I could've lived my life without.
After completely grossing myself out and deleting all of Glen's pics and vids on his phone, I continued to get ready for school. I had finished brushing my teeth and was now looking through the jungle, aka: my closet, for something to wear.
I gave a frustrated groan at not being able to find anything. I was contemplating just going school with nothing but my boy shorts and sports bra on when my Sidekick's ringtone went off, indicating I had a text. I dropped the clothes I had been inspecting and waded my way back through the jungle.
After almost tripping twice and dragging half of the clothes out with me, I finally managed to check the message. It was from one of my BFFs, notice I said one. I don't have one best friend but a group of them, and each one I have a certain topic I would go to for advice.
I had Madison, who I would go to if there were ever any boy trouble I needed help with. Kyla, who I would go to for any family or friend problems I needed guidance with. Carmen, who I would go to for any girl advice I needed. And I think you get the picture. Unusual? Probably, but I'm a unique person and the usual rules don't apply to me. Oh, and yes I did say girl problems, meaning I'm also into girls. I enjoy both aspects of the genders but if I absolutely had to choose one to stick with then girls would be my choice. But I'm not into labels, life's too short to be labeling every thing you do. Besides, I'm no grocery store, and don't need to brand my every thought. Hah, that's pretty good, I think I'll set that as my quote for the day. But yea, I'll tell you what the message said before my mind runs off to another topic.
The message was from my bestie Jace, he's gay and has no problem labeling himself as such, but that doesn't stop him from having sex with me from time to time. Sometimes he even invites Aiden over to play with us since Aid is his official boyfriend. But that's not unusual either, not for me anyway. Uh, maybe that's something else I should mention. I'm kinda a whore, but not in the usual sense of the term, because I never lead someone on and I don't cheat on anybody with anybody. Because a) it's wrong, b) I don't do relationships, and c) because it's wrong.
But back to the contents of the message. It was mostly just Jace asking if I was up for school and him being his random self. He was also inviting me over to this party he was having after school as a "Back to School Bash".
I quickly typed back my acceptance of his party invite. I'm pretty sure I was the first person he sent the message out to because it was personalized unlike the one I got 10 seconds later that read: BACK 2 SCHOOL BASH AT 8! B THERE IF U'RE NOT A LAME-O! I giggled to myself at his typical choice of words and quickly forwarded the message on to everyone in my contacts list.
I turned off my phone after sending the message because I was soon bombarded with texts from every other person either forwarding the same shit or looking to hook-up with me at the party.
I had laid across my bed while reading the texts, and was hanging upside down as I looked down to the floor at the mess of clothes I had dragged out from the jungle. I let out a squeal of delight and leaped from my bed to grab up the clothes I had spotted before they disappeared into the mess once again.
Yes, I had found the outfit I would be wearing to school today.
I quickly changed into the clothes, finished putting my make-up on, and fixed my hair before running into another wall, so to speak. I couldn't figure out what shoes I wanted to wear.
I sat down the pink and black Jordans I had been inspecting, those were mainly for sports. All of my heels were out of the question because I had cheerleading practice after school. That left my DCs and Chuck Taylors. I scanned over my profile and quickly decided that my light blue and black Chuck Taylors were the better choice. Now, if only I could remember what I'd done with them….
After one finely combed bedroom that included: three stubbed toes, an over turned couch, a flipped mattress, and even more clothes strewn across the floor, I finally concluded that they weren't in my bedroom.
I sat down on my now sheet-less mattress, and slowly rubbed my chin in thought as I contemplated where my Chuck Taylors could've gone. I was fairly certain they hadn't just up and hopped away, so my conclusion ended with a low demonic growl emanating from my throat.
Glen
I immediately jumped up from my sitting position and stomped my way to his bedroom. I didn't knock. I just burst through the door, ready for combat as I held my fists up in a typical tae-kwon-do stance, and you better believe I knew how to execute some of that tae-kwon-do whooping. Sadly the force that is I wasn't allowed to be unleashed for my dumbass brother was nowhere in sight. Hmm, maybe he's not as dumb as I thought, which means I'll have to bump him up from rock IQ level to around chimpanzee.
Dang-it! Now I'll have to make adjustments to my IQ poster…which is attached to my ceiling…over my bed. Agh. He's such a pain in my ass! even when he isn't physically here he manages to make my life that much more torturous.
After my Jackie Chan re-enactment, I slowly made my way down the stairs to the kitchen. With every bare footed slap of my foot my anger towards ass-face grew. By the time I actually entered the kitchen I must've looked like hurricane Katrina about to blow through.
I glanced around the room, fully ready to unleash the elements, even though my retard-dar wasn't going off. Sure enough my radar for retards (meaning dumbasses like my brother) was correct and once again my fury wasn't unleashed. Disappointed, I plopped down on a stool at the kitchen isle next to my mother, who was reading the newspaper. I really can't fathom why people read the newspaper when they could just watch the news on TV or, better yet, Google it on the internet. But to each their own I suppose. Perhaps they enjoyed straining their eyes and taking the unnecessary time to read the news.
My mother halted her reading and glanced at me from the corner of her eye. She was wearing reading glasses and looking at me with a twinkle in her eye that indicated that she was amused by my antics.
Apparently she had heard my shout of vengeance when bursting through ass-face's door, and probably heard my stomping all the way down the stairs, and perhaps I was still swearing my vengeance to get back at Glen right up until I plopped down on the stool, and maybe…awe hell I guess I was pretty obvious in my anger! And maybe it was a tad bit funny, but I still don't see why she has to give me that deprecating look.
I raised my brow and gave her a look that plainly stated, "I know I'm being childish but what the hell are you looking at me like that for?"
A chuckle of mirth emanated from her as she slowly folded her newspaper and gave me her full attention. My mother raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow of her own (hmm, maybe that's where I got it from), "Spencer Alice Carlin, what in the world are you trying to murder your brother for this time?"
I grumbled quietly to myself before replying sarcastically, "Oh, I don't know mother. Maybe because he stole my favorite pair of Chuck Taylors?" She continued to look at me with a question mark so I elaborated, "Ya know, the shoes." I added a quiet Duh at the end of that, but I think she still heard me because she was now smirking that look that said, "I know more then you do." But I really don't see why she would be giving me that look when I knew more then she did just then.
My confusion was quickly wiped away when she produced a pair of shoes out from under the island with a flourish, "Are these the shoes you've been throwing a hissy over?"
I practically leaped over the island in my haste to grab the blue and black Chuck Taylors, and squealed in delight at having my babies back. I hugged them to my chest before beginning the Spanish Inquisition.
"Oh my gosh! Mom where did you find them?" I was practically jumping up and down in my happiness.
"Oh, I found them on the counter with a note stuck to them this morning when I came down. No wonder your brother left in such a hurry."
I scowled as my plot for vengeance returned at the mention of ass-face, "So, he did have them! The boy has more balls then I thought." I rubbed my chin in thought, and suddenly had to fight off the urge to vomit as what I'd said registered in my mind, which came along with a high def picture. I swallowed down the bile that had risen into my esophagus. Once again I'd grossed myself out through imagining things about my brother I should never have subjected myself to. Curse my overly visual mind!
The nausea soon passed once I had my mother get me a cool wet rag to place over my clammy forehead. With my nausea gone, my plot for vengeance came flooding back. I gave my mother a brooding look that indicated hurricane Katrina, or more appropriately, hurricane Spencer was back on course and wouldn't be leaving till she hit the, soon to be sinking, ship that was Glen Avery Carlin.
My mom cleared her throat before pinning me with one of those looks that only mothers seem capable of producing, that said, "You better mind or I'm taking all of your loves in life away."
Okay, so maybe it didn't say all that, but it was damn close to it since she usually took away my cell phone, TV, lap top, and car, which was pretty much everything I loved….
"Now, Spencer," Oh yea, she hasn't issued her statute yet, " you need to give your brother some slack, he did return them to you after all." Yea, after depriving me of them for weeks! So maybe I didn't notice till today, big whoop, he still took them. But of course my mother wasn't to be denied. I gave a long suffering sigh before whining out a, 'Fiiiine', and making my way back up the stairs to my bedroom, still stomping the whole way.
After finally returning to civilization by covering my feet with socks and my Chuck Taylors, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I had on a baby blue Hollister shirt that brought out my own baby blues, and a blue jean skirt that barely covered my ass. So it was a little on the short side. I'm sure nobody at school will be complaining. I look hot as hell! Yup, and I mean that literally.
I gave myself a wink in the mirror and made a kissy face. Creeping myself out, I vowed never to do it again, unless drunk. Then any and everything was on the market cause more then likely every one else would be drunk as well and wouldn't remember the creepiness of it all. Plus, you could always blame it on the alcohol.
I grabbed the keys to my baby and my pink and blue Sidekick off the vanity. As I walked to my bedroom doorway I stopped and removed a pair of panties that had somehow ended up over my lampshade. Once certain my bedroom wouldn't go up in flames due to poorly placed undergarments, I made my way downstairs. I stopped by the kitchen and gave my mom, who was reading her newspaper again, a kiss on the cheek, and grabbed a piece of her butter and jelly toast from her plate on the isle before heading out the front door.
I heard a muffled yell of, 'be good', emanate from inside before, low and behold my baby, aka my jet black Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren Roadster 722 S, aka my $450,000 baby. I know, it's a crazy amount but my father died when I was practically an infant and his family had been loaded. Not the go-out-and-get-famous loaded, but the I'm-old-blood-and-deserve-the-money loaded.
Whatever the case, my mom inherited all of his money once he died of heart failure. She had definitely been surprised when a lawyer had shown up on her doorstep one day, claiming she'd inherited over 200 mill from her deceased husband. She'd actually laughed at the man and slammed the door in his face.
Clearly she hadn't known about the money. The lawyer had just taken it all in stride and, once he'd convinced her he wasn't a fraud, had her sign the lease papers and all that other lawyer-y crap that stated they had given her the money and etc. Add into the equation that my mom was a world known surgeon, and would've been fine in the money department even without the inheritance, and you've got yourselves some pretty rich Carlins.
Obviously our grandparents on our father's side were practically billionaires, no wonder our parents had named us after them, and once they croaked me and Glen would inherit all their money since we were their last living heirs. ha-ha I always thought that was a funny word cause it either sounds like hairs or airs, depending on however you pronounce it. Long story short, we're rich and even live in a small mansion now. We could probably afford a castle, but mom wasn't into the flaunting your money movement so we just settled on a five bedroom mansion with a dining room, kitchen, arcade, theatre, and in-door and outdoor pools.
After doing my routine outer admiring of my baby, I climbed in and did my routine admiring of the inside of my baby. She, yes she is a she, has black and silver leather interior, custom made of course. She's only a two-seater so I almost never take her out unless it's just me driving. Her speedometer registers over 200 mph, but I haven't really tested it out…yet. She has a voice activated GPS/Bluetooth system, and a DVD/Radio that comes with a touch screen LCD monitor that I can watch movies on and/or hook my iPod to and just jam out to some music.
After completing my admiration, I buckle myself in. It's best to play it safe cause sometimes my baby gets a little mean and likes to speed up faster then I intend for it to. No, it's not just because I have a lead foot. After completing the task that is buckling in, which is something else I don't get, if they want you to buckle up so badly why do they make the task so freaking hard? I mean my baby is pretty easy to buckle up in, but in other people's cars I've been in I've noticed their seat belts either go missing or are so hard to push in you just end up saying "fuck it" and don't buckle up at all. Add that to the fact that they nearly choke the living daylights out of some of the more vertically challenged, and it's no surprise people would rather take the ticket than click it. But enough with the rambling, I'm ready to lose the top! My car top you pervs, not my shirt.
I start my car up and it purrs like a kitten. I check my side-mirrors for any grannies that might be rolling down the sidewalk in their wheelchairs, before backing out and speeding down the one-way street.
Ahh, the sweet smell of noxious fumes in the morning. What a lovely way to start the day! Okay, I'm totally being sarcastic but I really love the feel of the wind whipping through my hair, so it's not all bad. I reach down and turn my radio on and ironically enough Billionaire by Travie McCoy is playing. I love this song! I sang along as the chorus played:
"I want to be a billionaire so freak-ing bad, buy all of the things I never had
I want to be on the cover of Forbes maga-zine, smiling next to Oprah and the Queen
Oh, every time I close my eyes, I see my name in shining light-ts, yea
A different cit-y every night, oh I, I swear the world bet-ter pre-pare for when I'm a billion-aire"
20 minutes later: 3 extremely close rear-enders, 2 almost granny pancakes, and 5 runned red lights, I arrive at school very disheveled from all the polluted wind blowing through my hair. Okay, remember when I said I liked the wind blowing through my hair? Yea, not so much now that I've stopped and it looks like I've been through a car wash with my top down. It's all good though cause I've got a quick fix here somewhere. Now where did I put that brush? After searching through my dash and console I look down and realize it's sitting in my floorboard. So what? I'm not very observant, big deal. I still found the damn thing.
I quickly run the brush through my hair and fix my makeup. I was about to open my car door when it was opened for me. I look up to see one of the jocks from the football team, I think, giving me a toothy grin. Hah, someone's working to get in my panties early. Well that's not gonna happen just because he opened a door for me, I actually have standards.
He's got to be drop panties gorgeous, okay that's not a complete set in stone cause I've done some guys who were just okay looking, has to have an IQ higher than my dog's, even though I don't actually have a dog, and needs to have some substance personality wise, though that usually takes time to assess and sometimes it's just about the fuckin. Especially when you're too drunk to care.
I look him over and I suppose he passes the first standard since he looks like a young blonde version of Elvis, which is kinda creepy but doable. I'll figure out on the walk to class whether he passes the second one, and the third I'll just have to wait and see what happens at the party. Ugh, here I am measuring my potential fuck buddies and it's not even officially the start of the school year! A sigh of exasperation falls from my lips but I offer the jockstrap my hand anyway. I know I said potential fuck-buddy before but sometimes you just can't help but call them as you see them, and he's most definitely a jock.
I let the blonde Elvis Jr. pull me out of my baby, cause I really don't feel like pulling a Lohan. I could see half the school watching with bated breath for my arrival. Once out of my car, and successfully preserving my goods for bedroom exposure only, I give jockstrap one of my best smiles in thanks for his help. A smirk forms once I see his eyes glaze over and his mind take a leave of absence. Hah, you've still got it Carlin! What am I saying? I've always had it. Nope, I'm not being vain. It isn't vain when you're telling the truth. And from since I can remember, I've been able to stun guys into silences….but that one phase with the braces and pimples might've been just actual disbelief. I shrug to myself. Agh, tomato tomoto, it's all the same. When you get down to it he still was stunned into silence.
After my inner monologue, I grab my Prada purse from the passenger seat of my baby, straighten my clothes, recheck my makeup in the side mirror, and loop my arm through jockstrap's offered arm before strutting towards my awaiting public.
A/N: I'm finally posting a story after starting about a hundred different other ones, not posted. I really don't have any particular direction for the story and I'm really not sure if I'm gonna continue it. I'm just BSing my way through it right now and creating my own story line as I go. But like I said, I'm not sure if I'll continue it or not. I might just for the hell of it and not post it or if you guys give me enough encouragement through reviews then I might continue it just for your own sakes. Haha who knows right? ^.^ But R&R and let me know what you think.
Oh, and on the subject of Reviews: Reviewing is loved, CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is appreciated, but Flames will be promptly ignored and kicked into the Pit of Doom ^.^
UPDATE: 6/5/11
First off, sorry to those who thought this was an update! I just couldn't stand leaving so many mistakes in there any longer. But here's an improved, less grammically (made up word) challenged version. I'll provide the improved 2nd chapter soon as well, but till then review and let me know what you think XD
~Celeb Out~