About The Boy

1 • Breaky Breaky

I woke up when a crashing noise echoed through my bedroom.

And to think - I was in the midst of a dream where a random hot dude was hugging me.

What a cliche intro though.

Grudgingly, I pulled the face scrub off of my face and opened my eyes. The sunlight was the first thing that met my line of vision. I squinted and mentally cussed to myself. Why the fuck did I leave the windows open? Ugh.

I stood up to close my window - I looked out and saw three cars that were parked outside my house and sighed, recognizing who owned those.

"I'm gonna kill those bitches for waking me this early," I mumbled to myself.

"WAKE UP SLEEPY HEAD I'M GONNA EAT ALL YO - oh, you're already awake, that's a start." Alexis said and went inside my walk-in closet.

"What are the three of you doing here? It's like, eight in the morning?" I grumbled following them to my closet.

"Um... I dont know who set your clock, but it's already one in the afternoon." Z said.

"Yeah, because of all those fatty tissues covering up her body, she won't know it's fucking one in the afternoon." Alexis rolled her eyes and popped her chewing gum. She picked it out of her mouth, sticking it on my freaking dresser. How rude.

"Z, find Alli a damned dress, don't trust me with that kind of shit."

"Scrub that chewing gum off my dresser." I hissed at Alexis.

She just rose her right eyebrow at me, "Leave that to Z, too. She knows stuff about that, while Cleo and I will prepare you some food that can satisfy your big tummy."

Z just pouted. She's always bullied by Cleo and Alexis. What can you expect? The two were spawns of Satan.

"Don't pout Z, it's fucking annoying." Cleo glared at her. Welp, there goes the cussing machine.

"C'mon, Alli, let's get your body wrapped up like a doll." Z enthusiastically stated, and pulled me by the hand to the direction of my walk-in closet.

A word about my wardrobe, before Z starts to complain about my fashion sense (like she always does). I don't usually dress like a homeless person like I do when I'm at home - oh, the irony - my style were jeans and t-shirts paired with my plain purple Converse. I wasn't one for dresses, heels nor flats, but my closet was filled with them and my friends try to find the best reasons to rip a tag off one and force me in it.

Example numero uno:

"Alli, look at this!" Z squealed, running to the side where most of the devilish dresses were hung. By 'devilish', I meant 'sparkly and pink and just plain girly'.

I didn't catch it and let it fall to the floor in front of my feet.

"Don't. . . Just, don't, Z. Unless you want to get in a choke-hold." I said and turned my back to her. "Again." I added over my shoulder, and made a beeline towards the only drawers in the walk-in. I opened a drawer and pulled out my black tee, then opened another and pulled out my only pair of washed jeans.

Turning on my feet to leave my closet, with the clothes in my hand, when suddenly, a pair of flats hit me square on the face.

My eyes closed at the impact.

"What. . ." I muttered, "the actual fuck?" I fluttered my eyes opened - a bruise possibly about to form on my cheeks - and caught Z's wide eyes.

She cupped a hand over her mouth, as I glared at her. And trust me, my eyes were like the Devil's. Cold, hard and scary. Just the way I liked it.