Authors note: Wow I've gotten to the 8th chapter! With 80 views, my god thank you, I never thought I'd even get to 10! Thank you so so much everyone who's reading this, I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am enjoying writing it! Above is a photo of George Moore (Lucas Till), I definitely picture him as George.
Zach Graye's POV:
Apologising was surprisingly easy last night. Well, it took a while for her to accept it and forgive me, but she definitely knows if I mean my apology or not. Elizabeth can read me like a goddamn book and all I know about her is that she's an un-date-able mystery, to everyone. Except Charlie of course, that's probably why they are such good friends, but I don't know. To me it seems that if girls say the same thing at the the same time they become 'besties' instantly...god knows how. It's now Saturday and I, surprisingly, have absolutely nothing to do. It's quite sunny so I decide to grab my sunglasses and towel, slip on my swimming trunks and slide off my top. I run down the stairs and chuck my stuff onto the kitchen counter. I swing open the fridge, grab a glass from an unpacked box and pour a cooling glass of lemonade before sliding the glass door to reveal three sun loungers right in front of me. I shuffle over to the sunniest area and drag a bed with me, mom just set these up for the summer because they were just getting in the way. I swiftly lift my towel into the air and flick it onto the bed, creating a satisfying whipping sound in the air. I crawl onto the bed and sprawl out, no suncream and no plan on going into the shade for at least an hour. The ladies love a good tan, always have and always will. I take a few sips from my refreshing lemonade before setting it down and taking off my sunglasses, half an hour on my back, half an hour on my front.
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My alarm for one hour has gone off and I collect my things and wander back in the house, I put my glass in the sink and put my towel on top of the washing machine. Mom and Sophie are at the mall at the moment, shopping for new kitchen appliances apparently. But that means I get the house to myself for at least another four hours, because Sophie will also drag mom around every toy shop she sees. Especially a builder bear...
I pad all the way up the stairs and into my room, I set my sunglasses down on my bed and look at the six remaining boxes I have to unpack. Might as well get it done? It's not great having them in here, I almost tripped last night with Jessica and it really fucking hurt. Yeah let's get a move on with them. I use my newly taken back remote to turn my speakers on and begin to unpack all my boxes, starting with the photo and book box. Looking through all the photos makes me grin greatly, seeing mom and Sophie laughing and happy like they were is an unimaginable joy for myself. They barely look like that anymore, well mom doesn't, Sophie requires a tickle and she's giggling in seconds. I file through all my photos and put them on my desk and bedside table. Some rest on my book shelf, but I'll have to move them when I get to unpacking my books. I still keep all my baby books as a sort of memorabilia from when I didn't have to care, you know, exams and grades and my actual future and life. All I would worry about was if I was hungry or tired and I wish that that was still the case. But I'm doubtful that it ever will be again.
I slide my baby books under my bed along with my winter clothes in a box and my shoes. I only own three pairs of shoes, smart, casual and sport. But still, they all deserve their own quarters under my bed. If your shoes don't look good, you don't look good...well that's what I say anyway. At this thought I look towards my mirror, that is precariously standing against the wall, I run my fingers through my mop of hair, the heat has really killed it, but has absolutely made my tan look fantastic. I slip on a white shirt, to contrast my skin, it's what everyone does right? I pop my sweatpants back on and carry on unpacking...
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Three ours later and I am on the last box, what can I say? I like to examine every object as I unpack, sue me. It's becoming late evening now and I can tell because the sun is setting. The sky here is stunning, it has pink and orange smudged across it with spots of white cloud covering it here and there. I'm not the sort you'd think would notice these things, but once you start to love painting they are the only things you begin to notice. In nature anyway. I quickly unpack the last box which is coincidentally all my art materials, I shove them all in one of my desk drawers, but leave out two pencils and my sketch book. I pick up my phone and take a picture of the colours of the sky, for my paints later. But I begin to sketch the outlines of the trees and the clouds, the houses and their tiled roofs scattered across the skyline. But the thing I focus on is the burning orange line across the horizon, making the forest look ablaze.
Sketching started off as a coping technique for me, but then developed into a hobby and has now become second nature to me, if I see something colourful and beautiful I will draw it and paint it. Just because I know I can. I'm staring at my shades and toned outline of this evening's sunset before I look up once again, but rather than seeing the sky, I notice a girl, through a window, spinning, turning and dancing to music...
I instantaneously grab my phone and unlock it, I furiously tap the camera waiting for it to load and position it so I can film everything she is doing. She turns her back to the window, but you can tell she is concentrating immensely on what she's doing. The song playing sounds as if it's from a musical of sorts and she's dancing along as if it's choreography. But it's rather good choreography, but still pretty hilarious choreography. I never thought she would do dance, but I guess she does do gymnastics...I begin to chuckle to myself before I start full on laughing. The film has been running for three minutes before I see her turn back around and wave her hands in a jazz hand motion. I quickly flip my camera off and open my window. Elizabeth's is slightly cracked open so I begin to shout over the space between the windows.
"Nice dance moves Liz!" She freezes and slowly turns around to see me smirking at her.
"Oh for gods sake! You saw?" She looks ashamed and slightly embarrassed,
"Of course! Wouldn't want to miss the show, you're not half bad at it! What's it for?" I enquire, nosily.
"None of your business, wait how do you even know it's for something?" She questions, raising an eyebrow, before she lifts her window up further.
"Because I'm pretty sure no one could make that sequence up on the spot!" I say, chuckling and winking at her.
"Oh thanks, I really appreciate the laughter. I'm still practising, cut me some slack!" She calls, raising her hands in defence.
"Anything for you kitten!" I wink. "Oh whoops, I meant Liz!" She begins to chuckle at my mishap as I cock my head in confusion.
"It's okay, I can forgive you. It's a bit weird you not calling me kitten come to think of it..." She begins to laugh.
"Well make your mind up! Yesterday it was no kitten, but today it is? You are crazy!" I joke.
"I'm not crazy, I'm just indecisive!" She retorts, smirking as she does.
"Your not indecisive about one thing though...and that's me!" I say, in my usual cocky manner, making her laugh once again.
"Sure sure, keep on thinking that Graye! Anyway must go, I have a routine to learn! Tata!" She waves her hand and wiggles her fingers before shutting the window and the curtain. I don't think I'll let her know about the video, perhaps I'll save it to use at a later date. You never know when it could come in handy...
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The Bad Boy and the British Girl
Teen FictionElizabeth Baker is the British girl in an American High School, never had a boyfriend and really doesn't plan on it. She focuses on her grades and doesn't give the time of day to boys. Zach Graye is the new bad boy in town, ladies man and all around...