Charlie Whitmen loves sports, junk food, video games, cars and basically anything-if not everything-your average teenaged boy would find interesting. But wait a second, Charlie isn't even a boy! Oh no, she's actually a girl!
Bet you didn't see that...
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Playing Hide-and-Seek
The luminous rays from the morning sun permeate through the flimsy shades, successfully infiltrating the confined space. At an alarming rate, Ethan's room is consumed with light. Subconsciously, Charlie screws her eyes shut tighter, wondering why it's so bright. Her room is usually pitch-black, courtesy of the thick curtains that do an excellent job at keeping her hidden away from the rest of the world.
She wakes up with her eyes hooded; tossing the blanket off, Charlie plants her feet on the floor and stands up. Groggily, she fumbles to the door. She manages to open it and find her way to the bathroom without a problem. The layout of her neighbor's house is a near replica of her own, which is why she hasn't noticed anything peculiar yet. Add in the fact that she's exhausted and you've got yourself one clueless gal.
After Charlie is done emptying her bladder, she washes her hands and heads back to the room. Maxwell, who sleeps in the corridor, perks his head up and the girl sends him a tired, dopey smile as she pats his head. Still densely unaware of her surroundings, Charlie crawls back into bed. She cuddles up to her long-body pillow and allows her eyes to rest once again. Just as she is about to succumb to the dark abyss luring her in, the pillow she has her limbs all over shifts.
An arm suddenly wraps around her torso and pulls her in closer. A few throaty groans greet her ears and sirens start blaring in Charlie's mind. Her eyes shoot open and she whispers a soft "Shit," at the sight of the naked chest in front of her. Next she peers down and realizes she has nothing but her undergarments on.
The reaction most girls—no, scratch that—the reaction most sane people would have if they woke up next to a total stranger half-naked, as you can imagine, is absolute chaos. They can be screaming, internally freaking out, or trying to find a way to sneak out of the place without getting caught.
Charlie Whitmen is no exception. Her thoughts are currently running awry; she doesn't know what her first move should be. This has never happened to her before. Then she recalls patting Maxwell. Against her better judgment, she cranes her neck up to see who the person she could have possibly slept with is. She has a hunch, but she's hoping that the Golden Retriever had only been a part of a dream. A loud gasp falls from her lips once her suspicions are confirmed. This cannot be happening. There is no way in hell she would ever be stupid enough to hook up with her neighbor.
Besides, from what she can recollect, Ethan had been far too preoccupied last night with swapping spit with some other girl. So how did Charlie wind up in his bed?
Her senses return soon after and her brows bunch together in anger. Harshly, Charlie shoves the unconscious boy away and jumps out of the bed. Her callous action rouses him and he sits up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "What's going on?" He yawns.
"That's what I should be asking you. How the fuck did I end up here?" Charlie fumes as she glares at him. "You douchebag. Did I have sex with you? You better think long and hard about your answer, Moron-dozo. What you say next determines if you get to live or not."
