Falling for the Player

Chapter 1- Before School Hours

Hi there,

This is my first book here on Wattpad and I'm super excited. I hope you guys enjoy reading my story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'd love to here what you guys think of my story, so please please please, comment. This book is super cliche and cheesy, but I think we all need a good bad boy romance every once an a while.

Happy reading

I've always loved to look in the mirror. Not because I like the way I look, or because I'm vain, but because mirrors are the the only things that never lie to me. They don't try and hide the truth, the don't try and manipulate the facts, they don't try and sugar-coat the harsh reality. Mirrors simply tell whether I look ugly or pretty without all the fluff.

Today, my mirror told me one thing: I was an absolute mess. My hair was in complete disarray and there were dark circles under my eyes. I let out an exasperated sigh as I looked at my reflection. I fought my tangled curls into a pony tail and splashed water on my face, trying to wake myself up.

"Laine!" Someone called from outside, banging on the door.

"One second!" I shouted back, shoving my toothbrush into my mouth.

"Laine! Hurry up, I need to pee!" The voice said again.

I groaned and pulled the door open. My younger sister Camilla was waiting outside, her tiny hands on her hips. She pushed past me so she could use the bathroom. Camilla is the youngest out of all five Frayer children. I, Elaine Francis Frayer, was the oldest.

I walked down the hallway and into my room which, like my hair and face, was a wreck. There were papers scattered all over my desk, dirty clothing overflowing from the hamper, and muddy shoes lying on the floor. I desperately wanted to climb into my unmade bed and drift back to sleep, but I needed to get ready for school. I pulled a faded, gray sweatshirt over my head and shoved a baseball cap over my messy hair.

I stuffed my homework into my backpack and walked down the stairs. The kitchen was a madhouse. My siblings were all crowding around my 15 year old brother Brent, who was flipping pancakes on the stove. I sat down at our circular kitchen table and shoveled some cereal into my mouth.

I stared over at my mother, who was passed out on the sofa in the living room. Her long, blonde hair was shoved into a messy ponytail. There were dark circles under her eyes and her red lipstick was smeared onto her chin. She was wearing a stained, checkered apron and a button down shirt. My mom worked the night shift at Rocko's Diner.

My twin siblings, Lucy and Carter, came and sat down next to me, both holding a massive stack of pancakes. I glanced over at Carter, who was the trouble maker of the family. He caught my intense gaze and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Did you show mom your report card yet?" I asked, still staring intently at him.

"Yes," he said, staring straight back at me. I knew he was lying.

"Liar," I said, putting a spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth.

He rolled his eyes and pulled his crumpled report card out of his backpack. I glanced over the document, examining his grades.

"You got a C in math?" I said, cocking and eyebrow.

"Yes," Carter said, looking down at his plate.

"I can tutor you if you want, Car," Brent said, snatching the report card from my hand. Brent had always been the smartest child. He loved anything to do with math. When we were younger, I'd play outside with the neighbors and Brent would be in his room, crunching numbers.