"In California with my toes in the sand," he hummed, his body slowly swaying. I emerged from the corner I was hiding behind and smiled.
"Use the sleeves of my sweater," I sung. He turned around, a smirk playing on his lips. He approached me, intertw...
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I swung my legs in the pool, making bright blue ripples in the water. The sun beat on my uncovered back and my long black curls cascaded down my shoulder. Palm trees in my backyard let the perfect amount of sunshine seep down onto the concrete.
The distant cries of joy from children, the birds singing, and the breeze weaving through my hair made this a perfect summer day. How could it not be?
Well, for starters, it's the last summer day.
In exactly twenty-four hours, I'll be returning to the hell-hole as I know it - West Florida High School. Home of the panthers, inconsiderate jerks. Attractive inconsiderate jerks, though.
I'll admit, I've had a hands-on experience with them. Although my best friend, Faith Hayden, was a victim of the Dylan Lachowski.
The thing about Dylan, or should I say things. He's the star of the football team, and managed to be for three years and counting. In middle school, he was one of the attractive boys that seemed to not need a glow up. His hair was always was sculpted perfectly, swooped up in the classic player manner.
Faith was not one to fall for boys. She had her mind focused on sports and athletics, which payed off to her build. This also made her "high demand" for guys at our school.
Needless to say, he broke her heart and I broke his nose. My hands-on experience with Dylan was a tad bit different, comparing it with other girls.
This was the last day of school. And I'm yet to find the wrath of Dylan, for breaking his perfect, dainty European nose.
"Sierra," my mother called out for me. "You can't stay by the pool all-day."
My mother was born and raised in Georgia, so she had a southern-belle accent. Although, she comes from Indian and Persian descent, so her accent catches people off-guard. My father, on the other hand, is an Italian new-Yorker.
"I'm staying," I muttered. She wasn't about to take that as an answer, even if I was glued on there.
She sat down on the concrete next to me, before quickly jumping up and hissing in pain. I looked up at her, squinting my eyes in confusion and because the sun was right above her.
"How've you been sitting there for hours on end? It's burning," she playfully licked her finger, touched the ground and made a sizzle sound. I grinned.
"On another hand, you're staying with Faith tonight," I cocked my head and questioned her why. "Your dad and I are going on a little vacay."
"You had a whole three months to do so and you're choosing to go right when school starts?" I half-laugh. My mom was always full of surprises, it's kind of amazing how my dad keeps up with her tactics.
"Duty calls," she winks and I gag, wondering if she meant it the way I thought. She shook her head in disbelief, "not that way."
"Pack your things for around a month, make sure to get your spare-keys," I nod and she ruffles my hair. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she sings.
