"Okay! I get it! Beep, f*cking, beep," I groan as the deafening sound of my alarm clock pounds through my head in an unpleasant, robotic symphony. I quickly shoot my arms out from the warmth of my comforter in hopes that I can stop the annoying beeping before the monotonous sound reaches its crescendo. My hands blindly fumble over my bedside table before I finally locate the source of the noise, shutting it off, and sighing in content of the newfound peace. I slowly open my eyes, only to squint in the process because if the sunlight that invades my room through the thin curtains. I look over at the small, pink box on my beside table and throw my pillow over my head when I read 6:00 a.m. from the clock that caused me a major headache only seconds before.
It's Monday, again.
Just. F*cking. Great.
I let out a dissatisfied grunt at the realization, and unwillingly climb out of my cozy bed.
A blast of cool air develops me when my feet meet the plush of the carpet beneath me. I shiver, and try to persuade my mind not to make me go jump back into my bed that would protect me from the cold of this Monday morning.
This is what hell must feel like, but at least it has heat.
I rub the sleep from my eyes, walk into my bathroom and strip from my pajamas. Aimlessly throwing them across the tiled floor, not even caring if they land in my hamper. Goose bumps arise the surface of my newly exposed skin, but I disregard them and quickly turn on the blistering hot water.
After standing under the water, unmoving, for around 10 minutes I finally just get out of the shower because I am too tired to even try to deal with this sh*t today.
I stayed up way too late last night because I was too occupied with watching re-runs of "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air."
Young Will Smith is one fine piece of ass and sleep would not deprive me of getting to watch a continuous 3 hours of him on my television.
Ahh. Young Will Smith.
Okay. I really need to get ready before I'm late.
I swiftly towel myself off, towel dry my hair before running a comb through it, and scrunching it with moose. I hurriedly walk out of the bathroom, completely bare, and go to my closet that is located on the complete opposite side if my room.
I grab a sweater & some jeans from my closet, not even worrying if it's "stylish" or not, only focusing on securing my body heat & keeping out the chill from this cold autumn morning.
I slip on all my clothes and sprint from my room, grabbing my book-bag on the way out the door. Once I get down the stairs I decide to just completely skip breakfast and leave for school right away.
I stroll out the front door, and make my way to my car, only to stop momentarily to gape at Harry as he walks out of his house at the same time as me.
His white button-up shirt was still unbuttoned, leaving his perfectly defined chest and abdomen in full view, along with multiple shapes of black ink.
Yes, Harry luckily lives across the street from me, so I can sneak-a-peak at him shirtless whenever he decides to wash his precious car on the weekends, or in times like these when he is running late, and doesn't have enough time to get fully dressed in the mornings.
I unwillingly tore my gaze away from him, and turned to my run down car. An ugly son of a b*tch it was.
I grasp the handle of my beat-up, red Mini Cooper, and cringe at the squeak as the door opens.
I take one last glance at Harry, his perfect body, and his f*cking gorgeous black Corvette, sighing before starting my car and driving off to the hell hole that is school.
15 minutes later I finally pull into the school parking lot, and shut off my car.
Let the torture begin.
I open my door, and pace into the school, trying to get to my locker as fast as I can before classes begin without me.
Rows and rows of lockers fill my vision before I finally find my own. I fumble with the combination lock, and slightly smile when it unlocks.
"Clayton," I hear a deep, British accent address me from behind.
My heart-rate automatically increases, and I gulp down the knot that my nervousness caused. Slowly, I turn to face Mr. PlayBoy himself.
"H-hi," I stutter out quietly, causing a cocky grin to spread across his face. Damn my f*cking awkwardness.
Harry leans against the locker beside mine, and crosses his buff arms over his now completely covered chest.
"I just wanted you to know that I enjoyed your little show this morning," he begins and my mouth becomes dry, even though I have no idea what he's talking about.
"You might want to make sure all of your curtains are shut before you go strutting across your room completely naked, and you should also know that you have a pretty rockin' bod to be the school nerd. You gave me a full hard-on at seven in the morning and that's pretty difficult to do because I'm not the easiest to get along with in the mornings," he winks and starts walking away, but not before he turns again to say "you should be really proud, Clayton, it's not every day that the school nerd gives the hottest guy in school sexual frustration."
And with that he just leaves me standing in the hall with my jaw slack, and my cheeks burning from embarrassment.
Meet Mr. Playboy, everyone.
A cocky little f*cker who knows just how to get under anyone's skin. But I would definitely choose him over young Will Smith any day.
