She wasn't even dressed like a princess.
I mean, of course she wasn't in an evening gown going to an event.
What I meant was, while she obviously was treated like one, what with her own butler and all, she didn't have that princess vibe you'd expect.
She wasn't boyish.
She wasn't slutty.
She sure as hell is ladylike.
But she didn't have that princess vibe.
She was in a cool green summer sleeveless top and black leggings when she stepped out of her Chevy.
She glanced around the scene, and I swear her black hair waved in slow motion.
And then she looked up my window.
I didn't want to be caught looking at her pale strawberry vanilla skin, but it was too late. If I dropped my head or looked away quickly, it would be too fucking obvious.
So what I did was, and boys, start taking notes from the man,
Changed my glance. My stare. I looked away, but didn't move my head. That way, I avoided eye contact, but didn't look too obvious.
...
...
Okay, so my game's a bit off. Shut the fuck up, I didn't ask for you to judge me, just read through.
...
I looked back at her. And there she was., looking back at me with tender dark brown eyes.
They were captivating.
I had to look away. I can't be caught staring at the newest, hottest chick in the neighborhood.
But those eyes mesmerized me, captivating me and preventing me from looking away.
We stood there, across the street, her in her yard, and me looking out the attic window, just stargazing in the middle of the day.
And then it happened.
I don't know if I was daydreaming, or what was in that breakfast, if I was still asleep, or maybe I conked my head somewhere?
But I swear I saw her shoot a wink at me.
I had no idea what to do next when she went back inside her new house.
Because, let's face it. What chance does a loner-wallflower with dashingly Good Looks have with the finest thing God has ever made for this world?
I couldn't even hear my loud ringtone blazing on my bedside. I was just there, staring into space while the Piña Colada Song began to play.
I snapped out of it when it stopped. As it turns out, I got a missed call from Sue.
Having nothing else to do, I waited for the Perfect Summer Theme Song of All Time play once more.
I picked it up the second I heard the first drumbeat of the song's intro play.
"Sue?"
"Stop fapping to my bra and panties and get your horny ass out of bed." Her voice boomed.
Yep. She's had her coffee. I'm used to this by now?
"Breakfast was great, Sue, thanks."
"Yeah, I know, I cooked those for ya. Now, I forgot to tell you, but cancel all your plans for the day." She said.
I didn't have much difficulty doing so, obviously,
"Yeah, done. Why?"
"Forgot they were mo--, She was moving in today. Our new neighbor from across the street." She said.
Oh, Holy Mother of Bitches, why did she have to know everything?
(Even the fapping part, I'll explain later)
(Don't skip to the explanation, you'll miss the good stuff.)
"Yeah, and? What do I have to do with it?" I asked.
"You're gonna be her tour guide today, show her around the village. Thanks, love ya. Mwah." She said.
I couldn't even say anything before she dropped the call.
I would usually ask Sue what her name was, but she'd answer back with some witty quip like, That's for me to know, and for you to go across the street and ask her yourself. Love ya!
The Piña Colada Song played again for me to pick my phone up.
"Sue?"
"Almost forgot. Do you already know her name?" She asked gleefully.
"No, what is--" And she cut me off like I didn't expect that anymore.
"That's for me to know, and for you to go across the street and ask her yourself. Love ya! Mwah. Byeee!!!"
Looks like she's not the only one who's able to predict everything in this family.
Wasting no time, I dressed up in a white shirt and beach shorts and made my way across the street.
Review your pick-up lines. I told myself repeatedly.
Having found the perfect one, I knocked on the door.
She opened up, and she was nearly as tall as me, her hairline was at my nose level.
"Excuse me Miss Captivating, but I'm here to Show you the World."
I Fucking Swear I nailed it.
YOU ARE READING
This Should Make A Terrible Story
Teen FictionHow the hell do I spend my summer? Sixteen year old Arthur Grayson repeated the question to himself, over and over. He couldn't see her coming, and how she could possibly change his life. *NOTE: VERY MATURE. RATED R16*
