Hiden Mate

Getting Ready

*picture of Jax*

Sunday morning might have been the worst morning of my life. I woke up to my mom, dad, and surprisingly my best friend Kayla interrogating me. My mind was swirling with thoughts about last night. I felt bad, nothing special really happened after all it has been two years. I'm interrupted by Kayla spraying me ferociously in the face with water.

"Kayla what the hell!" I scream turning the bottle of water taking the cap off and pouring the rest on her head.

"Eeeeekkkk!" her high pitch squeal fills the air.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

"Okay so how was it? Was it romantic? Where did you go? Was the food good? Did you go anywhere else afterwards? Did he get you anything? Tell me all the details."

"Calm down Kay, we just ate at Campiello's. That's it"

"Really?! It's you two year anniversary and nothing happened?! Are you serous?!?!"

"Yes, and it was relaxing. Unlike you interrogating me."

"Fine, I'll leave you be. But just know that I am so talking to Jax about last night."

"There's no reason."

"Blakelyn Clara Bailey there is always a reason!" 

"There's no reason to put out my full name Kayla Annen Queens"

"Urg you are so difficult some times Blake"

"I know" I say with my innocent smile.

"See ya at the party"

"Wait, what party?" Kayla is so confusing sometimes.

"You know the one I'm going to have at my place, it's tonight at 5:00 pm"

"I'm not dressing up"

"Forget what I just said, I'll see you at 3:15 sharp to come and help you get ready"

"3:30"

"2:45"

"4" I am so winning this.

"3:30 it is"

"ha I win" 

"you suck" she says sticking out her tongue.

I get out of bed after she leaves, because my mom  and dad walked out the minute Kayla squirted me with water, and take a long warm shower. I throw on some mascara and foundation and brush my teeth. I pick out some faded American flag ripped skinny jeans with a white tank and my usual leather jacket and my daily pair of converse which happen to be black and white today. I run downstairs and grab some of my angels from the cupboard, that's what I call my Lucky Charms, and run to the basement to start my daily dose of Call Of Duty.

"Blakelyn you need to do the dishes!"my mom shouts from upstairs.

"If you call me Blakelyn one more time I swear mom"

"I am your mother little Missy I can call you whatever I want...Blakelyn"

"fine" I say dragging out the word. Me and my mom are like best friends, we tell each other almost everything. Notice how I said almost. We mess with each other a lot I don't remember the last time she actually got mad at me for something. Sometimes I swear I'm the older one. My dad and two older brother keep us in line though, but not my sister. She is the girliest prissiest person on the face of the earth. I'm positive not even the Kardashian's wear that much makeup and perfume. And don't get me started on her closet, let-alone room. Everything is pink, white, purple, or red (and not the good kind, it's the light pinky red). It's like if valentines day and strawberry shortcake had a baby then sprinkled it along with magical pixie dust all over my sisters room. Oh and by the way my sisters name is Chelsea Anne Bailey, you can tell my parents wanted us to be fancy and girly. They got one like that but too bad the other took another rout (hints me). 

I'm about as close to being bad-girl-rebel as you can get. Although I give in when it comes to girls that are younger than me because my old best friend Emily was a few years younger than me and I let her ride a horse by herself when I knew she couldn't. At the time I was 16 and she was 13. I thought I could watch her close enough to rip her off before she got hurt but the horse took off running I couldn't catch Emily. She ended up falling off and getting ran over by the horse and snapped her neck. I watched her die and I couldn't do anything to stop it. The whole outdoor arena was a blood-bath. I've been really overprotective about kids younger than me now and I can't deal with the stress of anyone else getting hurt because of me. I killed and innocent girl, no on purpose of course but I did, I will never get over it.

I run upstairs and do the dishes really fast and before I know it it's already 3:30. Lucky for me Kayla is always at least 30 minutes late so I have some time. She get at my house at 4:02 and runs up to my room, starts throwing clothes everywhere and goes through all my makeup before I get to the top of the stairs. I swear she has superpowers. When I enter the room there are three outfits laid out. One of them is short black high-wasted shorts with a light blue button up shirt and some high heeled black combat boots. The next one is dark skinny jeans a red tank-top a leather jacket and some black closed toed heels. The last outfit is a dark red lace crop-top a leather short skirt a black scarf red rose earrings with a black handbag with some dark grey heeled short boots.

"Which one" she says with a smug look on her face.

"The last one, I know there's no other choice" I whine.

"Yayyyyyy" a very high pitched squeal fills the air. I put on the outfit and put two parts of my hair in waterfall braids and leave the rest of my hair down. I throw on some light grey eye shadow and some bronzer with cat-eye eyeliner and I'm ready to go. I look at the clock to see what time it is and as it turns out it's already 4:00 which means we have to get going to Kayla's house before people show up.