Step Brother

It Seems That You Are Always Bumping Into Me

Morgan's POV

When my alarm wakes me up the next morning, I curse to myself then groan for a few seconds. I hate school. It's not like I have a terrible life there or anything; it's because I'm a teenager and normal teenagers hate school. Not that I'm even close to normal.

I get out of bed, sadly, and walk into my connected bathroom. Having your own bathroom is great when two guys move in with you and your mom. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I cringe. My hair is housing birds and I still have makeup on my face from yesterday because I was too lazy to wash all of it off. I brush my teeth and my hair. Then I wash my face. Finished, I leave the bathroom to pick out my wardrobe for the day. I took a shower last night before I went to sleep so I don't feel the need to take another one this morning.

I end up picking out one of my many pairs of skinny jeans and a red and black flannel. I put those on and look at my collection of shoes. I grab my all black low Converse and slip those on over my socks. I go to the bathroom again to apply makeup to finish off my look.

I apply brown eyeshadow, eyeliner to form wings, and mascara on both my bottom and top lid.

I throw my brushed hair into a messy bun because it is lazy Monday and look one last time in the mirror. I think I look good enough so I leave my bathroom, not forgetting to turn the light off, and look around for my All Time Low backpack since I forgot where I put it. I find it at the foot of my bed, pick it up, and sling it over my shoulder. I look at my alarm clock to see that it is almost 7:00. School starts at 7:30 and it's a ten minute drive to Ben's, who I have to pick up, and ten minutes to school from there. I should leave now.

I open my door and leave my room to bump into a chest.

"It seems that you are always bumping into me," Luke says and I roll my eyes.

"Whatever. I have to go," I say and begin to walk away, but he takes my wrist in his hand. "Let me go."

I turn around to face him. "Can I ride with you?" He asks me.

"Don't you have your own car?" I ask him, referring to his Challenger.

"It's overheating. I'm planning on dropping it off to get fixed tomorrow," he answers me.

"I don't care," I tell him. "I'm waiting two minutes in the car. Grab what you need and get to the car. If your not in time I am leaving your rich butt." Yes, Luke is rich, well more like his father.

I skip down the stairs and grab the Dodge Charger keys from the one of the hooks in the kitchen. We have four cars in all. The black Charger, mine; the dark blue Challenger, Luke's; the red Mustang, my mom's; and the yellow Hummer, Andrew's (Luke's father).

Andrew bought the Mustang for my mom on their two year anniversary. They dated three years before they got married. I hadn't seen Luke many times until their third year in dating because 1) I already knew of him at school; I have three classes with him and don't care for him, 2) I didn't care about my mom's boyfriend's son, and 3) Me and Luke were always hanging out with our own friends.

I regret not grabbing a jacket when I step outside. It's a normal September day here in northern Florida. The weather can be unpredictable. I get in my lovely Charger and crank up the heat after I turn on the engine.

In less than a minute, Luke is in the passenger side and I am driving off to Ben's house.