Grinded

chapter II.

Morning life in Sunset Ridge was getting into full swing as the town came alive, with people rushing off to get their morning coffee, parents dropping their kids off at daycare, teenagers lazily falling out of bed for school in just over an hour.

The sun rose over the mountains, stunning beams of golden light shimmering across the waking town. The air was warm and still, not a single breeze to be felt for miles. It was pure bliss.

However, there was something different about this morning: the blaring sirens of police cars speeding through the tranquil streets, disruspting the serene early morning, with no one realising the chaos that was about to ensue.

The sirens whirred past one house, awaking a 17-year-old guy. Eyes cracking open at the sudden repetitive noise, Freddie Blackwell propped himself up on his elbows, his blonde messy bed hair falling down to the sides of his freshly shaven face. He rubbed his piercing emerald green eyes, turning his head over to the window.

What the Hell is going on? Freddie thought to himself as he yanked aside the thick black comforter off of him.

He didn't bother sliding into his slippers, having caught a glimpse of his clock to see he had already slept in as it is. Freddie shuffled over to his window while he stretched, his tank top rising along with his arms, revealing his defined abs underneath. It was the body he'd worked hard for for years; no longer was he called the 'twink with a flat ass'. He made sure of that.

Freddie rested against his window frame, watching as the last of the police cruisers drove by in a fury, not waiting for anything. There had to be something wrong; he couldn't remember a time where the cops driving around this manically. And it wasn't a nice feeling it was giving him, feeling his stomach churning at the thought of what could be happening.

He shook his head a few times, ruffling his hands through his hair before sauntering off to his bathroom, tugging off the slept-in tank top. The sirens were probably nothing. After all, it's Sunset Ridge. One of the most boring towns in Colorado.

In the space of ten minutes, Freddie managed to swiftly pull himself together for the school day ahead. He washed his face in record time, fucked with his hair enough times until it looked presentable; it still had that cute messy flair to it, but only intentional now. He took a beat to give his body a once-over, a playful grin growing on his thick, pink lips. He had a right to admire himself, knowing the work he put in. And God, he looked fucking good. His biceps were wide and thick, his pecs, or 'tits' as Thomas would call them, were taut and pumped-up, and his legs weren't any different.

Finally emerging from the bathroom, a small trail of steam followed him as he walked through his bedroom, continuing getting ready. Within thirty seconds, he had pulled on a grey hoodie with his high school's logo on, and some black jeans. He then grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder, before coming out from his room, only to walk into something unexpectedly.

"Jesus," Freddie yelped, backing up into his bedroom. He eyed his younger sister of one year before him, who shared the look of sudden surprise.

"Damn it, Freddie," she gasped, her voice soft and delicate, just like the rest of her. His sister, Peyton, was thin and had a much smaller frame than that of the built one Freddie was rocking. Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a messy bun as she gripped her phone and toothbrush in each hand. "Watch where you're going, jockstrap."

Freddie pulled a face, flipping her off. "Don't you have a TV to crawl out of?"

"Eat me." And with that, she strutted down the hallway and into her own bedroom, leaving Freddie with a lasting glare.

The muffled sound of music faintly playing emanated from Peyton's bedroom, causing Freddie to roll his eyes as he stalked off towards the stairs. Sometimes he found himself fighting the urge to sneak into her room and cut the wire of her stereo; it pissed him off how she had her music playing from sun up til sun down every day.