COLD BLUE

Chapter 1

I WAS LAYING DOWN ON MY BED, as I looked up with a blank stare at the ceiling. I begin reflecting over the past years, thinking about the good, the bad, and the lonely. It's been about two year since I moved in with Scar, to Seattle. It couldn't be any better, and I couldn't be any happier. Scar. Scarlett Hemingway. Six years I've know her. Four dreadful years of high school in Portland, and two stressful years at WSU. Scarlett was my very beautiful, very amazing best friend. She had curly black hair that fell down to her waist. She had hazel-green eyes and her skin soft with a light tan color. She had freckles which gave her a always young appearance. She had a slim figure that complimented her curves and she stood at average lady height. Scar was a goddess compared to me, because I was none other than ordinary next to her.

Scarlett's attitude, charisma, her looks, I would say overshadowed anything I offered. Emma I. Carter--Isabella being my middle name-has caramel brown eyes, dark brown wavy hair, a pale complexion -That was only heightened by my dark hair -and had some curves. I was an average, always clumsy girl. Scarlett was different and better than average. She was graceful, smart, elegant. . .had a more sexually active lifestyle than I did. I groan in disgust remembering those haunting, horrific 'Scarlett-moaned' nights.

No, I was just an ordinary girl, with average looks, and simple taste. Food being my kryptonite. Classic literature and romance novels , being my preferred read. Ironic how I liked romance books, without having any interest in a sexually active life, unlike Scar, nor did I want one. Guys these day are annoying, rabid-sex-crazed little Chihuahuas expecting any girl to throw herself at them because they look good. Oh god, how annoying. I was a hopeless romantic in a you're horny, I'm horny, lets fuck romance era. Gross. Gross and annoying. That didn't matter though, because I was already hooked on someone else. Although, there wasn't any chance our match up could happen. I was too "innocent" for his liking, as Scarlett would put it, but I felt as though it was her nice way of saying I'm boring.

I looked at it as an average girl trying finish college-more like mid-terms at the moment-and live a student-loan-debt life with fifty cats. The way I rejected guys that's where my life was headed. Destined to be a in-debt, crazy, lonely cat lady. Scar and I lived in a cozy decently sized two bedroom apartment. The bathroom connected our rooms, and the living room had a roomy welcoming essence. There was a small bar (or island) that separated the kitchen from the living room able to sit three people. Just a couple feet to the right of the  kitchen sat a small four-foot tall table, able to sit four people, our dining area. Our apartment was warm, it felt like home, and it was torture sometimes.

Our place was Scarlett's brother Abel occasionally hang out spot, and God only knows that man was the manifestation of all bad things. He wasn't extremely bad, he's a lawyer with his own firm which was very accredited. Won seventy-five percent of his cases. He was very good at arguing and convincing. 'That's no surprise.' Abel was tall, tan and handsome. The three strikes for any girls dream guy along with the added bonus of bad boy, mischievous, and mysterious. He would occasionally flirt with women that were partnered, and any women in general. Abel hooked women on him, as though he were an addicting drug. I wanted him like every other girl, ever since our eyes met, since I saw him, but I couldn't do that to Scarlett. Lose my friendship over her brother, no way.

Thinking about the nice guys and Abel, I felt my face sadden. It always happened when I thought about him. He always seemed so isolated. When I would look into his icy colored eyes, I saw sorrow, I felt something deeper than what his outside appearance portrayed. 'Get him out of your head!' I thought then sadly mumbled "that's your best friends brother". I stayed in my bed for a couple of minutes before getting up and sluggishly heading towards the bathroom. I looked at the clock on my desk that read 8:12am, I groan annoyed. 'It's Sunday why the hell am I up this early!' My conscious looked down at me annoyed and irritated. 'I shouldn't be up till noon.'