Best-Friends With Benefits (Under Reconstruction)

Chapter 11- My Date with the British Devil

By the time I opened my eyes the next morning, it was 11:30, and I was still completely exhausted.

Groaning, I got out of my warm and cozy bed to face the day. My arms were still sore from scrubbing the kitchen, and my head was pounding. I had barely slept all night, due to the fact that I was tossing and turning like a washing machine the entire time.

Sighing, I stumbled out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Sam and Stanton were already there, grumpily eating their toast as Mom gave them the stare down.

Guess she found out about the explosion.

Dad had to go to the office today, to work on some work related projects I didn't fully understand, and Sandy was still fast asleep upstairs.

Lucky duck.

I plopped into my chair, grabbing a piece of toast from Stanton's plate and digging into it. Fortunately for me, he was to tired to even notice.

As I munched on my toast, I thought about going roller skating with Conner this afternoon. We used to go all the time when we were little, but lately we just hadn't found the time.

I froze, my toast halfway in my mouth.

I had a date in an hour.

I threw my toast back onto Stanton's plate, making him jump. I sprinted to my room, slamming the door shut behind me and running to my closet.

I was so doomed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I had barely finished putting on my make-up when the doorbell rang.

I glanced at the mirror one last time, relatively satisfied at what I saw.

What? Just because I didn't want to go on a date with the bugger, doesn't mean I was gonna dress like a hobo.

I had slipped on my favorite pair of jeans, that made my butt look relatively attractive enough. I was pairing it with a cute, but simple purple over the shoulder top that made my skin tone not look ghastly pale. My hair was curled like a princess, hanging in pretty ringlets just below my shoulders.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, strictly for self-motivational purposes. Go knock him dead. Hopefully literally.

I grabbed my ankle boots that Conner had gotten me for Christmas last year (he has surprisingly good taste in shoes), and ran down the stairs as fast as I could without falling on my face.

By the time I had made it to the door, Sam and Stanton were staring down an awkward looking Brit on the front porch. I cleared my throat, but they didn't even spare me a glance.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, face impassive.

"Ummm." Travis shuffled his feet. "I'm here to pick up Selena." He glanced at me uncertainly, and I had to sneak a grin back at his adorably nervous expression.

Cue mental face-palm.

I sighed loudly, walking past Travis and grabbing his hand and heading towards the shiny silver car parked in the driveway that could only belong to a Brit. Even though he had pretty much blackmailed me into this date, no one deserved to be tortured by my nosey brothers. I was just glad that Conner wasn't there to join them.

I pulled him away from my steely eyed older brothers.

"Where are you going?!" I could just imagine Sam crossing his arms over his chest while Stanton's frown deepened.

"On a date. I'll be back before curfew!" I called over my shoulder before hopping into Travis's car and closing the door over their protests.

Travis slid into the driver seat, before looking over at me. "Your brothers?" He looked over my shoulder to where they were probably glaring at the car from the front porch. I wouldn't be surprised if the car caught on fire.