"Brynn? Are you still sure you want to do this?"
What a loaded question.
I fiddled with my fingers in my lap as my mom, Jane, drove me to the airport. Glancing out the window, I watched the dark green trees whisking by as torrents of rain cascaded down the windows.
Jane had turned her eyes towards me. My mom had her blonde, perfectly highlighted hair cut into a soft, curly bob that surrounded her face; a face made up of high cheekbones, laugh lines and eyes that were both an electric and warm shade of hazel.
People that had known my parents when they were married had a habit of telling me that I looked exactly like the two of them, but I knew that I was my mother's daughter. We both had a quick wit and an easy smile. My mom and I were people-pleasers, but if I was being honest, my mom could be a little manic.
I could thank my lucky stars that I had inherited a part of my father's unnaturally calm demeanor.
"Yes, Mom, I'm sure. I just need to get out of Ocean City." I answered the question for what seemed like the hundredth time. I had to repeat the phrase as often as possible to convince myself that I was, in fact, sure of myself. She looked at me again with a worried expression, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Alright… If you insist," she replied exhaustedly, looking back at the road as we neared the exit towards Philadelphia. I leaned my elbow on the door, looking back out at the rain and trees, thinking how this was the exact environment I was about to find myself in.
What I told my mom was true―I needed to get out of that town. While growing up, I had appreciated the nearly rainless days and living five minutes from the beach, but I found getting older in such a small town was no longer so stylized and pristine. I had good friends, friends that I loved and laughed with, don't get me wrong, but I always felt out of place in Ocean City. Never once did I feel natural in my own skin, regardless of the people I surrounded myself with. Everything just felt too… Normal. And maybe I was normal too, or maybe I wasn't, which could explain why I never found my niche. Normal may have been the wrong word to describe my small, New Jersey hometown. Ocean City itself was beautiful and I had a great time as a kid there, but the people were so average and expected you to be so as well. I just needed a change of pace, and to get away from the people that I had always known.
I'm sure.
I was going to miss the sun, and I was going to miss my best friends, but I could no longer deal with being stuck in my same old town, doing the same things. I had my fun, kissed a few boys, even had a boyfriend for a time, but I couldn't handle the similarities and the exclusion I felt every day. I needed a change, and when the opportunity to move across the country to live with my dad presented itself, I was more than willing to hop on it, despite my sadness that I would no longer be living with my vibrant spark of a mother.
I'm sure.
We finally reached the city, the chill, late autumn weather leaving the streets sparse of people. My mom pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine of her Lexus. "I'm just checking before you go inside- You're completely sure you want to go live with your father?" she asked, grasping for my paler hand. My mom had always worshipped the sun while I fought for my tan every summer, and while I was sprinkled with freckles and still had some remnant of a tan, my mother's skin was still a rich bronze.
God, I'd miss her eternal sunshine.
"Yes Mom. I'm sure I want to go live with Michael," I said, squeezing her hand. When my parents had gotten divorced, I was only 6 years old and soon after my father moved across the country to follow his firm. My parents' break up wasn't by any means the easiest, but they had settled into a long distance friendship after so many years. I was only able to visit Michael on the rare occasions when he had time off from his job and I had time off from school. Regardless of this fact, he was still a good dad, even if it was from 3000 miles away, and when I had sighed one too many times during a phone call with him, he offered me a proposition: come out to Washington and ride out the rest of my senior year before I went off to college (wherever that may have been) and I would get to live with him for the first time in 11 years. My mom was reluctant to see her little girl go a year before she expected me to, but after promising that I'd try and come home whenever I could, she had warmed up to the plan, especially after realizing that she had, in fact, had me all to herself most of my life.
She heaved a deep sigh, and while part of me was so very sure, another part wanted to stay right where I was and forget about leaving. I'd miss my mommy.
"Alright," she exhaled, getting out of the car to help me with my bags. "I'll be here if you ever want to come back," my mom reminded me, pulling me into one of her bear hugs. I nestled my face into her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume and tearing at the thought that I wouldn't be able to hug her whenever I wanted anymore.
So this is what homesickness felt like.
"Okay Mommy, I love you," I told her, pulling out of her hug and kissing her on the cheek.
"I love you too, honey. And you call me whenever you want," she replied softly, kissing me again before hurrying back into the car. I could already see the water works beginning in her eyes. I shut my door and shuffled across to the terminal entrance. As I dragged my bag through the automatic door, I stubbed my toe on the edge between the tile. I cursed quietly, regretting my refusal to wear anything but flip flops until it was cold enough to freeze off my toes. I quickly adjusted my navy vest and the cream cable knit sweater I had paired underneath it, before running a hand through my hair. I tried to pull myself together so I could just keep moving on like I hadn't just goofed, then headed off in the direction of my terminal.
As I sat waiting for the plane to start boarding, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and then grabbed my iPhone out of my jean pocket. I texted my two best friends, Zoe and Mia, to let them know that I was leaving soon.
They were really the only true friends I had. We'd been friends since kindergarten, each growing up in different situations. I lived a happy, privileged life, even though I didn't have a permanent father figure until I was twelve, when my mom began dating her boyfriend, Mark. Zoe grew up in a laid-back lifestyle, with her surfer father and bawdy, Australian mother teaching her to have a good work ethic, but to always enjoy life for what it was. Zoe had always been the child that Mia and I weren't. On the other hand, when we were young, it appeared that Mia was a lucky girl- she had a lot of things and her house didn't have many rules, but as we got older the cracks began to show. Her parents were divorced, and while going to two different houses each week seemed fun for us as kids, it became apparent that her mom was into partying a lot and her dad was just doing the best he could. Zoe and I were there for her no matter what when she needed a place to stay- my own mother said she would have adopted her.
Zoe said she would text me every day, and Mia seconded the notion. I thanked them and sighed at the thought that I most likely wouldn't see them for quite some time. I huffed out a sharp breath, putting away my phone, as my plane was called. While I boarded the plane, the short, plump stewardess looked at my passport, then at me, and then back at passport.
"You're only seventeen?" she asked in a high pitched, Philly accent. She eyed me again before I answered with a yes.
"You look like you're in your twenties though," she said, but stamped my passport anyway.
"So I've been told," I replied, rolling my eyes slightly and attempting a good humored laugh as I took back my passport. "I get that a lot," I added, remembering even when I was thirteen, I was thought to be seventeen.
"Alright. Sorry Miss Sloane. Enjoy your flight to Seattle," she answered, smiling that creepy smile that stewardesses always wore.
"I will. Thanks," I said, smiling before making a face as I boarded the plane.
The next few hours passed slowly, my mind numbing as I zoned out enough to block out the sounds of the crying baby in front of me and the obnoxious comments of the man next to me, who, like the stewardess, thought I was older than I really was. When we finally landed, I nearly sprinted out of the gate and down the stairs to get my bags. I stood around the trolley, the bags moving slowly, and tapped my foot to the beat of the song I had stuck in my head. When my bags finally came around (after what seemed like an hour), I pulled them off, one of them rolling over my toe (no surprise there), and headed towards where I was supposed to be picked up. I saw a sign with "Brynn" written on it and I raced over to the familiar but older looking man I'd known for many years now.
"John!" I yelped, hugging the man, who had the surprised look of a father seeing his daughter all grown up on his face, which pretty much was the way he saw me.
"My God, Brynn! You're so grown up," he noted, looking me straight in the eye, our line of sight at the exact same height.
"Yeah, yeah. I know," I said, waving off his comment.
"I'm so sorry that your father couldn't be here to pick you up. He has a meeting until late tonight, so I'll give you my cell number just in case you need anything," John explained, grabbing my bags and pulling them out to the Mercedes waiting outside. I wasn't surprised to hear that my dad wasn't there to pick me up. It was always this way.
My father had become successful by working for a highly recognized law firm in Seattle and was ridiculously busy all the time, which was both a blessing and a curse. Whenever I came to visit him, he was working on this case or going to this or that benefit so I never got much time with him. He had promised he'd try and turn down anything that kept him away from me too long, but I knew my father too well to think he would ever be anything other than a work horse.
John and I talked politely for part of the car ride, but after a while we both fell into silence, which was almost welcome after my flight. I hummed along to the music playing on the radio as I gazed out the window.
It was all just so green. South Jersey had never been like this. High, purple mountains stuck through the dark gray clouds as rain poured out of them on to the windshield. And strangely enough, despite the dark clouds, the rain, the music, and the sound of the car's engine propelling us forward, I felt peaceful. For the first time in quite a while, it was quiet.
John soon was pulling up to the driveway of Michael's, which winded only a short distance up to the garage, where my dad kept some forgotten workout machines and other collectibles. The house had white trimmed windows and weathered gray-brown cedar shingles that had lived through countless Washington rainstorms. Growing up, I always thought this house was too big for my dad since he was here all by himself, especially since he spent so much time in the city, but I guessed that it was now the perfect size. Maybe he had always hoped I would help fill up the space.
John helped me pull my multiple bags into the house through the rain, and once I was all settled in, he hugged me once more and left. I sighed, looking around at the never changing house. I went into the kitchen and rummaged around the drawers, checking to make sure everything was in the place it had been the last time I had been in the house, before I attempted at getting all of my things up into my room.
I pulled my bags up the stairs with great difficulty, seeing as I didn't, in fact, have the strength of a full grown man (even if I was as tall as one.) I finally managed them into my room, which, like the other rooms, hadn't changed. The walls were painted a soft blue and white trimmings ran along the edges of the walls. The furniture in the room was dark brown and modern looking, having been updated from the pink, super girly room I used to have in the house. My bed was large and covered in a white comforter with tiny, light blue and green leaves sprawling across it. I threw myself down on the leaves, forgetting how comfortable my mattress was, and soon drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up from my nap some time later, I slowly started putting away my clothes into the closet and dresser. After an hour of lazily sifting through my sweaters and the boxes that we had shipped before I flew out, I finally seemed to be settled in. I walked downstairs and noticed for the first time that it was now pitch black outside."Shit, I'm never going to be able to get to sleep," I said out loud, sighing before popping into the kitchen. I cast my eyes through the pantry, searching for something to eat, before grabbing a box of cereal.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch, I flicked through the channels on TV and thumbed down my newsfeed on my phone, reading the statuses of people I would most likely never see again. It was still surreal to think this was my home now, even if it was only for the rest of the year. It'd probably hit me eventually that this was real life and that I wouldn't be hearing my mom's voice coming from downstairs in the morning, but Michael's. It would no longer be Ocean City High School that I'd be walking into, but Forks' very own high school waiting for me. Zoe and Mia wouldn't be sitting with me at lunch, but I would instead be making completely new friends… or at least I hoped I would.
After an hour or so, my ass dragged itself upstairs to start going through my drawers again, searching for something to wear on my first day. I finally decided on a navy and white striped sweater and dark skinny jeans that I planned on tucking into my tall riding boots. Once I had laid those over the white leather chair in the corner of my room, I sat on my bed, pulled out my battered copy of Jitterbug Perfume, and started reading at a random point, as I often did.
"He excited her because he was as damned as she was, yet had no regrets." I read that line for what seemed the thousandth time when I heard the front door slam and someone cursing out the rain.
"Dad?" I yelled, looking up from my book then jumping off my bed. I hurried down the stairs and saw him standing there, looking the same age as he did the last year and the year before that. My father always looked the same, even if his once black hair was now salt-and-peppered. He smiled, his movie star face crinkling around the mouth, making him look even younger.
"Brynn Sloane?! Oh my God, you've gotten so big!" Michael exclaimed, throwing his leather jacket down on his dark brown couch and opening his arms for a hug, which I gladly fell into. "My God, you're almost as tall as me," he pointed out, pulling away from the embrace and noticing the small difference in height between us.
"Yeah, I did grow a lot last summer," I explained, smiling and hugging him again. "So, Dad, how's work been?"
"Fine, thanks. I actually just got signed on to this huge case, so you won't be seeing me much these next few weeks," he said, smirking at me.
"Oh yeah? Then I can totally throw a rager here with a hundred of my closest friends, right?" I joked, smiling at him.
"Oh, yeah, that'd be just fine," Michael replied.
"Yay!" I exclaimed, laughing at our little joke. These were the moments I missed with my dad, and I'm glad we could share them more often now.
"So, Brynn, have you eaten yet?" he asked, walking into the kitchen to get his own dinner started.
"Yeah, Dad, I'm good. I ate on the plane too," I explained, sitting back down at the kitchen table.
"I thought you hated airplane food," Michael said, glancing at me while he placed his pizza in the oven.
"I do, sort of. It was actually alright this time around," I said, surprised that he remembered that insignificant piece of information about me. It was always hard to know what my dad paid attention to and what he didn't even acknowledge.
"Alright. Good. Well, tomorrow morning I have to be out the door by six so I probably won't see you until tomorrow night… Possibly," he continued, sitting across from me at the table.
"Oh, okay," I said, noting that it was probably best for the both of us if he just avoided me the next day. My nerves would be off the charts so he was lucky to be out of the house before I started to worry.
After some time, filled with small talk and then comfortable silence, Michael's pizza was ready and I was ready to finally get a good night's sleep, which, considering my nap earlier that day, may have been easier said than done. I washed my face, pressing a scalding hot towel to my skin and breathing in deeply as the steam forced the stress out of my pores. I rested the damp cloth on the sink's edge and looked at my reflection.
I'm sure.
I repeated the mantra which had been playing like a broken record in my mind for the past few months. I allowed my shoulders to sink and rolled my head in a circle, eyes closed. I had to remind myself that this was all going to be okay; that this is what I needed. This is where life needed me to be.
I climbed into bed and situated myself beneath the covers which had been absent for many, many months. Laying there in the silence, I breathed in and out slowly, trying to release the anxiety of starting over while taking in whatever good things were waiting for me in the future. I sounded like my mother.
"Breathe in the good," she would say, bound in her yoga clothes and seated on the sand. "Exhale the bad. Breathe so you can think, Brynny."
Breathe so you can think, I repeated, hands covering my eyes as I let out an extended sigh. My hands then ran back through my hair, each strand lacing its way around my fingers for a brief moment before my hands fell to my sides. It's all going to be okay. New is good. Different is okay. This is where you need to be. With that last thought, I allowed my eyes to slide shut and I fell into a deep slumber.
. . .
The next morning I woke up at 6:30 and acknowledged that my dad was, in fact, already gone. I searched through the cabinets and made myself some oatmeal, then absent mindedly munched on an apple as I watched the news.
After getting dressed in the outfit I had chosen the night before, I ran a straightener over the waves that had made an appearance over night. A little bit of eyeshadow, a flick of black eyeliner, and a swipe of stain on my lips later, I was ready for the day. I checked myself in the mirror once more before grabbed my khaki-colored trench, red scarf, and bag before heading downstairs.
I grabbed the keys to the car that my dad had given to me (after some protestation on my side), since he drove with Jonathan more often than not. This didn't stop me from feeling guilty for all the things my father was giving me without a second thought, but I supposed it was best to be grateful than harp on his generosity. The engine roared to life when I turned the key and after I ran my hands over the leather of the steering wheel and the metal of the insignia, I backed out of the driveway and sped towards my new life.
As I pulled into the school parking lot, I got quite a few looks from other students. My car certainly didn't fit in among the trucks and Jeeps that filled the spaces, and I could feel myself awkwardly creeping my car along slowly until I found my way into a small spot towards the rear of the lot.
After cutting the engine and sliding out of my car, I stared up at the brick exterior of Forks High School, with its many white paned windows looking back at me. Here goes nothing, I thought as I tugged my jacket tight around my body, and walked out into the light rain. Again I received a wave of stares, but not for my car.
I could only presume that this was because I was Mr. Big-Man-in- Town's prodigal daughter returned.
Grand, I thought sarcastically, frowning as I heard a car roar into the parking spot that was in front of me. It took me a second before I realized that the car I now faced was absolutely stunning. It was a black Audi, easily recognizable by the emblem on the grill. The windows were tinted to the point of almost complete darkness and the lithe curves and bends of the car made it look like something out of the future. I shook my head a couple times before turning away and heading to class, ridding my mind of the car. I walked into the small front office and saw a small, plump woman sitting behind the counter, her platinum blonde hair pulled back in a bun on top of her head.
"Hi, my name is Brynn Sloane," I greeted her, "I just moved here to live with my dad and I-"
"Oh! You're Michael's daughter! My husband works with your father. I'm Ms. Livingston."
"Oh, cool. Awesome. Nice to meet you. Uh, so is there anything I need to do today? I know I need to pick up my schedule here and stuff but I wasn't sure if I needed anything else," I told her.
"Oh, okay, dear. Here's your schedule and your book list, and I'm going to give you a piece of paper that I want your teachers to sign. Just return it be the end of the day, alright?" she replied. She seemed like a sweet woman, especially compared to some of the harpies that had worked in my old school's guidance department.
"Okay, I'll be sure to do that."
"Have a nice day then!"
Once I had finally found my first class of the day, about five minutes after the bell rang, I awkwardly found my way up to the teacher, jacket slung over my arm. I introduced myself to him and he, thank God, didn't make me stand in front of the class. I took a seat next to a girl with super curly, dark brown hair. She glanced up at me, seeing as my head was a good height above hers, and smiled.
"You're Michael Sloane's daughter, Brynn, right?" she asked in a higher pitched voice.
I'd have to get used to that being my first impression. "Yeah, that's me."
"Well, nice to meet you," she replied, "My name is Anna DeMaria."
"Oh, nice to meet you too, Anna. So, where are we in this class?" I asked, the nerd in me climbing out of the depths as it always did.
"We were going to start Macbeth soon, I think."
"Macbeth? I read that in sophomore year," I explained, slightly taken aback.
"Well, yeah, we don't move that quickly here," she told me, almost sounding offended, which I guess she had every right to be. I just didn't understand how two school's curriculums could be so different that I was learning in my second year of high school what these kids were learning their senior year.
"Oh." I was silent most of the class, Anna filling in the empty space with her endless quips and gossip about the school. She reminded me a lot of Mia, but Mia I could deal with without losing my patience. Eventually the class ended, and I found out at that point that I had almost the same schedule as Anna. Awesome. I followed her to our math classroom and introduced myself to the teacher once more. She, unlike the previous teacher, made me introduce myself, and I noticed the looks many of the guys in the class gave me as I stood there, nervously giving out my details. The teacher, Mrs. Fuller, told me to sit next to a blonde boy who had a thin face and a smile on his lips.
"Hey, I'm Matt Flagler," he said in a low voice that reminded me of my dad's.
"Hi. Brynn," I replied, distracted as I pulled out my calculator and notebook from my bag.
"So...You're from Jersey? Like the Jersey Shore?" Matt asked, laughing slightly.
"I mean… I'm from the shore, but that's about all I have in common with that show," I replied, thanking my lucky stars that this was true.
"Yeah, the lack of tan makes me believe you," he responded. He then asked me about why I had moved out with my dad for the year, and how I was liking Forks so far. The conversation continued on and on, and made me realize that Matt was a lot like Anna and I thought how absolutely, annoyingly perfect they would be for each other.
The day dragged on in the same fashion until lunch, where I sat with Anna, Matt, and the rest of their friends. A glaring alert popped into my head as I sat down to the circular table: was I one of the popular kids in school? Had it really been as easy as walking into the right classes with the right people to earn myself such an illustrious spot? As I settled into this realization, I met a few other kids, like Kristen, a bubbly blonde with a sunny face, who reminded me of Zoe because of her somewhat ditsy mannerisms. At least I had someone I could connect with. I also met her boyfriend, Tom, who, unlike Kristen, was quiet and shy. Other kids talked to me and I actually felt at home among all these strangers.
As I ate my lunch, consisting of a salad and iced tea, I glanced around the room, bouncing from each table on to the next until my eyes fell on a table near the back doors.
I could feel my eyebrows reach towards my hair.
Sitting at the small, circular table were quite possibly the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my life. While every one of them had skin just a shade paler than mine, which may have suggested that they were all related, they all looked... different.
One of the two girls had long, deep chestnut-colored hair that curled at the middle of her back. She had dainty features and perfectly thick eyebrows that showed her every emotion as she spoke to the guy to her left. He was the definition of a movie star heartthrob, his curly, dirty blonde hair sticking out above his classically-featured face. The other girl at the table had slightly lighter hair than mine, and looked like… Not a Barbie, but something far more beautiful. Something you see in a museum. Her beauty almost made me uncomfortable; She was too perfect. Beside her, with his arm around her shoulders, was almost her male opposite. Where she was lithe, light-haired and aggressively feminine, this guy had to be twice her width and nearly a foot taller, with dark, wavy hair that he pushed up at the front with his free hand. He had a jawline set in stone and I was almost entirely sure that he didn't belong in high school.
If I hadn't been staring by then, I was almost transfixed by the final person in the group. He was resting his elbows against the table, ignoring his food and watching the others talk. His short, rich, chocolate-colored hair was in a state of slight disarray above his glorious face, which was really the only way to describe it. Shit, it was downright godly, save for the signs of exhaustion that marked it. He shifted his wonderfully wide shoulders that were hidden beneath a gray henley before rubbing the back of his neck. He continued to look at the small brunette with long-lashed, nearly pitch black eyes.
"Who are they?" I questioned Anna, whispering in her ear and pointing discreetly at the beautiful table.
"Who?" She paused before noticing my line of sight. "Oh, them. Those are the Woods," Anna replied, also eyeing the table. "The blonde is named Gwen, and the brunette is Ella. Then the guys are Frank, Terry, and of course, Adam," she said dreamily, seeming to fade into a dreamland where Adam's face was plastered on each passing cloud.
"Adam is the one with the light brown hair, right?" I asked, sneaking another glance.
"Yep. But I wouldn't try anything with him. He apparently doesn't find us normal folk all that appealing, unlike his sisters," she said, sniffling.
"Wait. Wait." My brain seemed to lurch to a halt for a moment. "They're related?" I asked, staring at her with wide eyes.
"Well, not really. They're all adopted. Frank and Gwen's actual last name is Hunt, but their parents changed all their names. Their father is a doctor here in town and their mom stays at home. The weird thing is, they're, like… Together. Ella and Frank, and Gwen and Terry. It's so strange. I mean, they live in the same house… How does that work out?"
"Oh. Uh. Well then," I said, looking sideways at the table again, regretting it instantly. When I did look, I was caught by the fierce black eyes of Adam, who had a look on his face of great confusion. What did I do now? I asked myself, looking back at my table before I got lost in his eyes.
I saw one of the girls, the small one, get up and throw out her untouched lunch and Adam followed her lead. Actually, now that I really thought about it, none of them had looked as if they had bothered with their food the entire period.
Lunch was over soon enough and I followed Matt to our next class, the one class I didn't have with Anna. When I got there, I introduced myself to the teacher, Mr. Barbato, a balding, tall man, and then stood like an idiot while he pointed me to a seat. A seat right next to Adam Wood. Just my luck.
I nervously walked over to the table and sat down at the empty seat to his right and noticed the look he gave me. His black eyes looked me up and down before facing forward, his body ramrod straight in his chair. I saw his hand clench into a fist on the table and flinched.
He wouldn't hit me. He doesn't have a reason to, I told myself, trying to rationalize the reaction. Maybe he's having a bad day.
I sat far from him, and he mirrored my action. I watched his jaw clench and release again and again throughout the class, making me nervous. Why did this have to happen to me? I couldn't have the most beautiful man on this earth repulsed by my very presence! As if I had done anything to deserve it.
The class ended before I realized time had passed and just as I stood up, Adam flashed out of the room, moving fast enough to be considered for the track team. Matt sauntered up to me with a puzzled look on his face.
"Did you stab Wood with your scissors or something?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
"I didn't do anything. Does he ever act like that?" I asked, following him out of the classroom and to our last class of the day, gym.
"No, he usually is alright. I don't know what you did, but I wouldn't do it again," Matt advised.
"I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed, but for the rest of the walk I didn't say anything else about the little scene. I parted from Matt and headed into the locker room to get changed.
As I changed into my white tee and navy shorts, I couldn't help but notice that the girls around me were sending side glances in an effort to scope out the new girl in town, or at least that's what I thought. However, when I walked out of the locker room and into the gym, I got the feeling that the girls weren't so much scoping me out out of curiosity, but maybe because they were just vaguely jealous, something that was confirmed by the looks I got from the guys in class. Every time I decided to get involved in the slightest (I was never one for gym class), I could nearly feel twenty pairs of eyes following me.
Seriously?
Thankfully, that class ended just as quickly and I ran into the locker room, changed back into my clothes, and then sprinted to the front office where I stopped short.
Adam was leaning against the counter, talking to Ms. Livingston in a low, silky voice. Everything about him really was perfect―His voice was like listening to a flawless classical piece performed by the world's greatest orchestra. He stopped talking suddenly, stood straight and looked at me over his shoulder. He scowled and mumbled a goodbye to Ms. Livingston, who looked rather flustered. As he passed me, I realized that he was tall; much taller than six foot. My knees melted even further.
"Uh, Ms. Livingston? Here's that paper you wanted me to get signed," I said, carefully placing it on the counter in front of her blushing face.
"Oh, thank you, Brynn. I hope you had a wonderful day," she replied, straightening up in her chair, taking the slip and saying goodbye to me.
I walked out into the light rain and saw Adam racing into his car. Let me rephrase: his fucking piece of art. It was the Audi from earlier and I stood, gaping as his siblings joined him at the car. I should have known he would have a perfect car. It was a beautiful car for a beautiful guy―I should have guessed it the moment I saw him. I shook my head quickly, water falling off my jacket on to the ground, then quickly scurried over to my own car, opening the door and collapsing inside of it.
What a fucking day.
I drove home and found the house empty yet again, and was glad for it. A quiet space was just what my anxious mood needed.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I was in a new school, suddenly thrust into the spotlight where everyone was more than willing to watch my every move. I wasn't sure if the envy was good natured or if I would need to cover my ass more times than not this year, but I figured I wasn't the most hated person in school. Well, I guessed that Adam Wood was an exception to that rule for whatever strange reason, but his siblings didn't have a reason to hate me just yet.
I sat at the kitchen table, listening to music as torrents of rain poured down on the roof. I calmed my breathing as I became more focused on my homework, scribbling down notes for an outline that was going to be due in a few days for my history class. School was and always had been something easy for me, something that could distract me from anything that was rattling around in my mind. However, I wasn't so lucky to be loaded down with much of anything to do and so my mind wandered… To a certain black-eyed boy.
I shouldn't have been thinking about him at all, seeing as he apparently hated my guts, but I just couldn't. He was the kind of guy every girl wishes she'll see in her lifetime and I got to sit right next to him every day for the rest of the year.
The question was, was that a good thing?