Define Love

Chapter 1

So, there's this thing called love. Some people like to believe it's the best thing in the world, that it could cure cancer and keep people from dying. Personally? I think that's all bullshit. Love is just an excuse people use when they act like idiots. True love is a scam, and love at first sight is even worse. People get this idea in their heads, and suddenly, love's taken over the world. But here's the flaw, people mistake love for other things. They mistake love for gifts, hormones, food, and, worst of all, sex. Alisa would argue that I just haven't found the person to put up with me yet, but it's more than that. I can't find the appeal in it. Constantly trying to make sure that I do the right thing and keep a filter, trying way too hard to say the right thing. And then there's the point of my behavior, Alisa always says I need to act more "lady like". She says things like that I need to wear more skirts and dresses and high heels. I honestly don't see the point, if I'm not going to live forever, I might as well be comfortable, right? That's why, on a Friday night, instead of going on dates, I sit at home watching action and horror movies. Comfort is key, so that means no bra, or pants and all the junk food I can fit in my mouth.

"You might as well be naked!" Alisa always harps at me.

"You know," I tease back, "that isn't a bad idea!"

And this was an exchange we had every day. There was also the sweatpants aren't appropriate for public exchange. That was one of my favorites. She always acts as if my clothing choices account for why I don't have a boyfriend, even though she knows how I feel about that. Love, or the lack there of, is just an excuse for attention. Like pretending you're an idiot to get attention. It's something that happens way too often.

Can't a girl just be thought of as herself and not as "his girlfriend"? Which is another way to get attention for both parties. I would much rather be a third wheel than have a boyfriend of my own. And I tell her this all the time. Except, she continues to insist that it's just my "damn stubborn, rebellious nature." It sounds better when she says it, with her country twang. She always does that thing where she tells me the bullshit of the "proper woman," and how a "proper woman" always has a man. I mean, I never got on her for her beliefs, but I grew up with a single mother and a father I didn't even know. Let's just say, my mom did damn fine without a man. She dealt with me, and let me tell you, it isn't an easy task. When I was 14, I went through the hair dyeing phase, and added to the sarcasm and ways of the teenager, I was a shitload of trouble to take care of.

Vaguely, I remember getting a detention for sticking up for Alisa when she first got to the school. I may or may not have punched the kid that was picking on her. I hadn't know her well at the time, but that was kinda my first impression on her. She always knew I was a little too hot headed to handle. Alisa thinks I should get a boyfriend, but very well knows, it'd take a patient, modest guy that is stubborn as hell.

There was this one day that we were hanging out at my house, and she was texting. See, I don't mind this, usually, but she was acting weird. So I had to ask.

"What is going on with you? Are you having a love affaire with your phone?" She finally looked up at me.

"No," she replied, smiling. "I'm texting someone you're about to meet." As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"Are you going to make me get that," I groaned.

"Yes, it's a good reason to get off your lazy ass."

"You do have a point," as soon as I got up, she followed. I opened the door, forgetting (and not caring) that I was only in a sports bra and tight short shorts. Even when I found two teenage boys standing on the front porch, the only thing I cared about my outfit was that I loved the dark blue color of the bra. The taller one did a better job of looking at my face, but the other one stared at me for a while before looking at the ground.

"Caroline, this is Scott, my new boyfriend, and his brother, Warner." The one looking at the ground waved a bit, the other one smiled. I leaned to Alisa.

"Which one is which?" I whispered, apparently I have to do as Alisa said and "work on my inside voice"

"I'm Warner," the taller one said. He wasn't terribly taller than the other, maybe an inch or so. It was his height compared to mine I was concerned about. I'm taller than Alisa, even when she wears her heels, taller than some of the guys in my class. But me to him, he had to be somewhere to six foot, about four inches taller than me. I wasn't scared of him, by any means, he looked more like a teddy bear than a person, especially with that rugged light brown hair. His eyes were... well, I didn't exactly have an explanation for them. They were each a different color; the one on my right was a unique hazel color, a mix of every natural eye color, and the left one an almost emerald green. "And this is Scott." He gestured to his brother next to him.

There were only two differences between their looks. Warner was taller, A, and Scott had both green eyes, B.

"Come in," Alisa said. I looked at her.

"I need to talk to her real quick," I said, pulling her upstairs, into my room. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I was thinking you and Warner might hit it off."

"So this is basically a blind date?"

"Basically, yes, now would you please put a shirt on?"

"That's like asking you to put on my Vans."

"There are two examples of the male species in your living room."

"I thought you needed a male sex organ to be male. Anyway it's not like I'm naked, or that they haven't seen anything like this before." I gestured to my chest. "I bet you twenty bucks they've seen bigger."

Alisa cocked her head at me and squinted her eyes at me. "First of all, I'm pretty sure that they both have male sex organs. Second, being shirtless isn't how you introduce yourself. And third, I know that most everyone on Earth has seen bigger." She finished by crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm sure you'd know about Scott," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"Shirt, now," she commanded, tossing me a random choice. I looked at it and laughed.

"Great choice," I held up the t-shirt with the words "Goeth and Fuckith Thyself" scratched across the front.

"Put it on," she growled. I shrugged and do as asked, trying to hide a smirk.

"For all I care, they can obey the shirt."

"You will be nice, Caroline."

"Define nice."

"Nice is not telling them to go screw themselves."

"Scott has you for that." She gave me the look.

"Fine!"

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Finally! They had all left! I was all alone! Mom had texted me that she would be home late and go to work early. Something about needing time off for her sister and sister's husband sons and daughters. Which means family is coming this weekend. Family means my snotty cousins, my snotty cousins mean stress, and... there has to be a stress reliever, or I blow up. And, trust me, no one wants to be in the same galaxy as me when I blow up.

Speaking of no one wanting to be in the same galaxy as me, I smelled pretty bad. I forced myself to climb the stairs and enter the bathroom. I peeled off my clothes and jumped into the shower, thinking about how much Boyds were going to annoy the shit out of me.

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I was headed to my bedroom to put actual clothes on, humming random notes, and as I walked through the door, I almost dropped the towel around me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I screamed at the top of my lungs. There, stretched out on my mound of blankets, pillows and clothes, looking at an old picture of Alisa and I, was none other than Warner Boyd.