Gracie Freaking Hall

Brianna

3 years later

I huff in annoyance as I hoist the last box up in my arms, sweat dripping down my body. I hated sweating and I hated this fucking sun shining down on me as if I needed more warmth. People said I was cold-blooded, and I liked to keep it that way. I climb the rusty porch stairs, hearing the creek of the discolored and peeling house.

The house was just as I remembered it all those years ago, except now it looked like we had left it, abandoned and rusty. The floors creaked beneath my feet with what felt like every other step. It also didn't help that the walls were covered with dust particles and spider webs. I shudder to think about how I would get this house back in tip-top shape, because Brianna Anders does not slum down for anyone. I place the box with the rest and shrug. It didn't matter because I didn't plan on staying for long.

I go back outside to retrieve my phone and lock the trunk of the car when a piece of eye candy catches my attention. He stands in front of my car, inspecting the house with a fist under his chin, in a thinking manner. I gulp at how hot he was. He had sandy brown hair and the most dark green eyes I had only seen once before. He had a chiseled jaw and was muscular but not too much. And the height? Well he was about 5 inches taller than me and that was perfect. I lick my lips as I couldn't help eye fuck him, he was just the way I liked them.

I wipe away the sweat from my forehead and glare at the sun. If he didn't find me attractive, it was because the sun made me sweat. Sweat is never attractive, unless it's on a guy who has it matted in his hair after doing very very bad things to you. I smirk and bite my lip seductively as his eyes finally make their way to my brown ones.

Just like my brown eyes, my straight hair was light brown and reached my mid back. I had always been into keeping in shape so my body was toned and sculpted in all the right places. I was never considered ugly by anyone I had met, in fact, I was voted most likely to win the Miss America pageant in high school. Maybe I could have, minus the little blunder of me having murdered on my criminal record. Sadly, I don't think judges would like to hear my side of the story and why she deserved to die.

But relieving the past isn't my priority at the moment. Normally, I would wait to get to know someone but it had been 3 long years without me getting some action and a full course meal had let itself wander into my table, ready to eat. I lick my upper teeth that trace my upper lip along with it, as he gives me a wide smile and a small wave. I skip down the steps and approach him, closing the trunk. I lean against it and with a raised eyebrow say, "and who might you be?"

He gives me a boyish grin which has me kicking my insides, hard. He extends a hand and I gladly accept. "I'm your neighbor. Mason Canterin, pleasure."

I don't let go of his hands yet as I run my hand over his and look up at him with innocent doe-eyes. However, my words are laced with anything but, "you know, I always had a thing for the guy next door type." I give him an eye flutter and one last hand squeeze before dropping his hands with a grin.

He clears his throat and gives me a sheepish smile, before pointing at the house. "You aren't afraid to live here?"

"Why would I be afraid?" I ask and take a tentative step closer to him, taunting him.

"You haven't heard the rumors?"

I shake my head, "divulge me?" In more ways than one.

He smacks his lips, "Well, rumor has it that those who live here tend to find themselves unlucky."

"Why is that?"

"It all started many years ago, when a family of four once lived behind those very walls," he starts telling me in a ghost story manner. "The parents both died in a mysterious accident, one daughter committed a murder, and the other went so crazy she is in a mental institution."