He's My Neighbour

4: My Diary

A/N: so my and izzyg0409 were coming up with ideas for this book in maths today, thanks for your help girlll xx if anyone else wants to help out with ideas, just leave a comment suggesting some plots/scenes that I could work into the book. I'm ill, so again, another sketchy chapter ahead, but bare with it, and I'm seriously determined as shizzle, to make these chapters lengthier, but you know... I'm not that creative Lols... enjoy x

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Amelia:Chapter 4:My Diary

Boy, did I feel like mould this morning. School's such a bitch. I take that back actually, mornings where you know you've got to shove your ass into a desk chair at 8.OO am and write a report on a History topic you know shit all about, because you're a screwed up mess that can't find a revision book, are the real bitches. It's not like the grade counted for my GCSE, but it's always nice to get a sweet 100% on your report card.

After I'd finally peeled my eyes open, my mum had to pry the bedsheets out of my grasp. It honestly felt like somebody had just peeled a huge layer of my skin from head to toe and just left me to writhe. Not only that, but to drag me from the mattress by my feet? Literally. It's hell getting up in a morning, because let's be real, after the incident yesterday morning, we've all established how much I truly adore my sleep. A hell of a lot! I laid on the laminate flooring tiles, freezing my ass off, groaning at the rays of iridescent yellow sunlight, penetrating the slit between my drapes. You know, Disney movies are such a lie sometimes. I mean, who in the world wakes up with a face so far on point you want to cry, with a huge white smile, and eager to begin their day, because that certainly is not me.

I laid on the floor still, running my hand through my thick dark mess, and sighed, but began to work my way up to my feet. The struggle's real. However, I eventually stablized, and began to slowly wander over to my bedside, picking up the sheets and organizing the pillows and cushions perfectly, one by one, straightening each one individually, as I went on. I take pride in my room, don't worry, I'm not a fully hormonal, lazy, sloppy teenager- I have my qualities!

After I'd made my bed, I walked into my en suite, opened the shower door and hopped inside. When you first turn on the shower, and the first few split seconds of water are freezing, well that happens all the time, but luckily, it wakes me up- sort of. I opened my mouth, and began singing softly; by softly, I don't mean nicely, because hell knows I sound like a cat strapped to the back of a hairy biker's motorcycle by the neck, as he drags me up an alleyway at full speed. My similes are graphic, and don't deny your love for them. The hot water streamed down the back of my neck, as I opened the all in one shampoo and conditioner- in the morning, there is just no time to do it seperately! As I massaged the creamy white liquid into my scalp with one hand, I used the other to draw little finger patterns in the condensation build-up on the shower door. Everyone says women love boiling showers, because the steam reminds them of where they come from... hell, but seriously, the real answer (in my opinion at least), is so we can showcase our shockingly brilliant finger masterpieces on the glass. I'm such a big kid, but I couldn't care less, you only live once, so why not act younger? Wow, that was so good, I should be in charge of quotes internationally- note the sarcasm. Once, I'd used my clinique body exfoliator, I dived out of the shower into a fitted pair of black leggings, a navy Jack Wills hoodie and strolled aimlessly back into my room, rubbing my damp hair with the bathroom towel.

What a lovely Monday surprise.

Of course, sat at the window opposite mine, there was Jake in a pair of black jeans, and a loose black tee, wearing timberland boots and a thin lip ring Who the hell makes effort for school? In his defence, first impressions last a lifetime. Believe me, they do.

"You know, last night..." He began in his common, irritating sarcastic tone.

"I'd rather not know about your wet dreams, thanks a lot," I cut him off, like the bad bitch-ass boss I am.

"I'm dry Princess, you can check if you want.." he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows like a crazed freaking paedophile. Ew. Manwhore.

"Revolting."

"You brought it up, Princess."

"I told you to stop using that word, I'm not your Princess, dickhead." I frowned, pouting slightly.

"Don't worry, it's just a metaphor, my dog's prettier than you,"

I furrowed my eyebrows and let out a frustrated sigh, whilst ragging the comb through my hair, which extended to me growling, which didn't at all help the situation, as I was already being compared to a dog. He let out a small, breathy, chuckle. He's such a jerk, I can't even put into words- I literally just want to smash something everytime he opens his mouth!

"You need some help?" He asked, indicating to the brush, which was tangled into my hair at that moment. Hell, was he going anywhere near my hair!

"Get back to your story sweet-cheeks," I grinned snidely, changing the subject, "Last night you were not only dry, but you also...?"

"Ah right yeah, well, last night, you slammed the window in my face, which was rude and aggravating." He winked, messing with his perfect brown hair, which had a black bandana wrapped in it, "And, me being me, I thought that I had to get revenge..."

I did not like where this was going at all.

In his tanned, large hands he revealed something with a silver glittery front cover, with turquoise paper pages, most of them filled with black ink. Now, I'd love to be able to say that I had no clue what the hell was in his posession, but then I'd be lying. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what this book was, and it made my heart beat fast, and made a cave form in the pit of my stomach. My cheeks burned red with anger and my smirk faded to a scowl. I had no clue when or how he'd got hold of it, but right at that moment, it didn't make a difference to me. All I cared about was the fact that he's got it, the one thing that is private, the one thing I never wanted anybody to see, he was holding it in the palm of his hand- very literally. There he was. Smirking away, taking it as some form of joke, but he knew just as well as I did, it wasn't freaking funny at all, I'll tell you that now! Jake the ass was sat, staring at me with something in his hand... That thing being my diary!

A/N: Hopefully you liked this, I pick some dodgy times to write my stories, like its late at night now-ish, but I got a streak of creative inspiration, so I had to write. Is this paragraph Legnth okay?? It's my favourite length so far.. That's what she said 😉 sorry, I've been too far into the janoskians lately, my minds been so much dirtier as you can probably see with this chapter. okay, leave comments, because it makes me really happy, don't forget to vote too.. that would be nice..:)xxx