If It Were Me

Great...I've Made a Deal with the Antichrist

Okay,  so this seems long, but take note of the seem. Its probably the way I spaced it...again. I got a bit trigger happy with the enter button. ;P Anyways, here is the second chapter of If It Were Me. :) I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! :D Comment (if you would be so kind) and vote if you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!

~ Sierra

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 “I hate you so hard right now.” Chance narrowed her eyes at me enviously, her hands gripping the steering wheel. I rolled my eyes and continued to look out the window, trees passing by at ridiculous speed. It was like driving through a maze.

 “That doesn’t even make sense… and could you please slow down?” I growled, hugging my backpack. Chance pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “Not until you tell me about 3rd hour.” I ignored her. The leather interior of Chance’s Chevy pick up itched against my thighs and I curled my knees up to my chest in an effort to get comfortable. The school day had already been bad enough. Why did Chance insist on pushing it?

 “Keep your hands on nine and five,” I mumbled (rather pathetically) as my fingers tinkered with the bracelet on my wrist. The charms on it jingled and glinted freely in the Arizona sun. It was the beginning of Winter at a blissful 79 degrees. Many wouldn’t know it, but the only bad thing about Arizona WAS the summers- highest being 120.

 Chance snorted in an attempt to hide her laugh. 

 “It’s ten and three moron,” she replied coolly, making a right turn at the intersection. I glowered at her for a minute before giving up. It was no use fighting her anymore- she knew me too well. An eery silence filled us- Chance with her eagerness and me with my anger. I chewed my upper lip in annoyance, switching the crossing of my arms. I wasn’t going to tell her. That was my resolution and I would stick with it. She had no right pushing me into things I didn’t want to do. I am my own free person and I will do as I please! Why would I want to talk about a jerk anyway? 

 I glanced nervously at Chance. Her petite porcelain hands tapped on the rubber wheel and I sighed aggravated. So much for being curious. My fingers itched anxiously against my arms as we drove in complete silence. My gaze would flicker to her periodically and the tension only grew.

 After what seemed like a ridiculously long drive down Maine, words flew out of my mouth like diarrhea…Ew, gross mental picture.

 “Grant Sumner is not who everyone thinks he is,” I blurted, turning my body to my friend. Chance nearly jumped in joy at my self imploding, reveling in the salute of my surrender. I glowered, in evident anger, but she seemed blissfully unaware.

 “What is he really like then?” she asked eagerly, turning into our neighborhood. Ever since we were kids, Chance and I had always lived down the street from one another. Some call it coincidence that I lived next door to my future unbiological sister. I prefer to say it was fate. We walked together through the door and shrugged off our shoes.

 I trudged up the stairs exasperated and walked into my flamboyantly pink room. I sighed. I hated ruining people’s impression of others.

 “Well…he’s an asshole,” I breathed out, my shoulders slumping. Chance seemed to have the same reaction because she sighed and tilted her head to the side in disappointment. Here we were, thinking Grant Sumner would be some hero- some glorious warrior with delicious abs and the cutest butt of all men…only to realize he is the exact opposite. Okay, only on the hero/warrior thing.