Chills

1. Starting Over

No one, with more emphasis on the words "no and one" said being pretty was so difficult.
When I was just a little girl, I idolized only two people; my mother and Queen Bey herself of course. I wanted to become beautiful like them. I wanted Beyoncé's fame and my mother's riches. For someone who isn't well known with millions of fans chanting her name everywhere she goes; she surely does know how to do one thing: Make money.
She was filthy rich before she hit puberty. Yup, my mom's the person who Martha Stewart gets her recipe's from. It was a big scandal a long time ago... I'm sure you all read the paper in your spare time whenever you aren't all up on WattPad reading my story. *laughs* Who am I kidding? You have nothing better to do.

But in all seriousness, I sort of went off track. Ahem, where was I? Oh yeah, the "being pretty hurts" thing. Beyoncé, you are a god. You weren't lying. And if you ever read this, ya know, shout me out.

Being the most respected girl in school is an honor that must be lived up to. Every girl wants to be you and every guy wants to date you. Guys drool when you walk into the room and girls scowl under your presence. Anything you would normally expect from the "pretty" girl in school is happening to me.

"He-eey... Um... Tyla... I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to..." Some creep who sits 3 seats behind me in World History nervously said before I interrupted him.

"Leonard, I'd love to..." His eyes started to sparkle and widen. His face grew red and expressionless, exposing every sign of acne over his freckled face. I could see the tape in the middle of his glasses unravel as sweat poured down from his nasal to the tip of his nose, and hesitantly jumped for its death. How gross. But I wasn't finished.

"I'd love to but today I have a modeling gig in Milan and if I don't get carried by my bodyguard Julio to my dad's private jet directly after school; I will be late. Do you want me to be late?"

Leonard shook his head. He ran over to his group of nerd- I mean, unpopular friends and gloated that "she had spoken to him." Oh boy, this will be a long day.

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"Baby, come here."
Those three words were all I needed to hear to make my miserable day sunny again. Just the faint whispers of his sweet melodic words rolling off of his tongue was enough to make everything go away.

He was all the way across the lunchroom surrounded by his group of jock friends, but all I saw was him. The way his hair swayed in the wind (the ceiling fan air) and how his green eyes shimmered when he looked my way gave me chills. I craved every second with him. It was a necessity in my life to move forward.

I saw him get up and walk towards me. I did the same. His ripped muscles were still visible in his red and white track jackets. Just staring him down made me wonder if he wanted my touch as much as I yearned for our lips to connect.

Only a few more steps...
I told myself over and over again. The tension in my body rose, as did my heart rate. I opened my mouth to speak.

"Hey..."

I was interrupted by the school hoe Tracy Marid. She put her leg directly on my boyfriend's neck. I hate how flexible she is. I bet it helps her to bend herself into several positions. (No pun intended)

"Hey Glenn baby. Last night you were soooo good..." She turned her back towards him and smirked at me.

"What the fuck is she talking about? Did you sleep with that whore? After all that I've done for you. No, don't say anything. It's over man." I yelled impatiently. I didn't even give him a chance to explain himself. All of a sudden, all the guys in the lunchroom ran to my side with roses and a handful of phone numbers. It was like the stampede that killed Mufasa. (That's a messed up way to put it but if the shoe fits, wear it they say)

"Calm down guys. Can I be single for 2 secs?"

All of the guys started to talk at once as if I was in a presidential debate.

"That was a rhetorical question. Go away. Oh and Glenn?" I turned towards him, flicking my eyelashes with my chin in the palm of my hands.

"Yeah?" He answered.

"Go fuck yourself."

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Dear Prada Journal,
Hey, it's me again. Today I must have had the worst day. I lost my boyfriend to the school whore. Julio broke his back lifting weights. Some nerd spilled his orange juice on my Fendi bag.  And I missed my scheduled modeling gig because of that stampede of boys running around me all day. Can I get a break? Why me?

I heard a loud banging on the front door downstairs.

Ciao, that's probably my mom, she's supposed to be coming back into town today to take me shopping. Maybe this day could turn around after all?

I closed my journal and shuffled my way down our grand staircase to the front door. After five failed attempts, I successfully unlocked it. Fiddling with cocks, I mean locks are for butlers and Kim Kardashian after all. (Again, no pun intended)

My dad powered his way through the door, breathless. He tugged on my arm and pulled me along with him.

"No hello?" I said, completely dumbfounded as to what was currently going on."

"No... *pants*... Time. I'll explain *pants*... On the way."

Now I was extremely confused. Did he get caught fucking my next door neighbor Mrs. DildoBerry again? (Cracks me up every time I say her perverted ass name) My mom hired the entire Canadian army to "teach him a lesson." My mom's crazy as hell.

Nah, I doubt it happened again. He wouldn't be fleeing with me if that were the case.

My dad was a pretty buff guy, opposing my mom's petite, hourglass figure. He was 6'2, 39 years old, still had all of his hair and a little more to make up the goatee around his medium sized lips. His eyes were a bright hazel color, the color of the sandy beaches in Hawaii where we went for my 8th birthday. We always traveled somewhere on my birthday; never skipping a year. In a few months, it will be my 17th time traveling somewhere for the annual celebration. Just wait on it.

He tugged me into our helicopter and our other servant- I mean flight attendant Bob took off.

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Author's Note:

Don't you hate cliffhangers? Yeah, so do I, but I guess there is nothing to do about it except keep on reading, now is there? All of the crap in this story isn't true so don't go anywhere trying to duplicate anything happening in this story. Because 100% of the time, it won't go as smoothly as this. It's not that you aren't anything like the fictional self-centered character I completely made up in my head for your entertainment but hey, whatever floats your boat captain.

Love you guys.
Stay Frosty ❄️
-Makala 💋😜