and then I met you

1

        As the early morning sunbeams slowly settled in my room I woke up, turning in my bed as a groan escaped my lips. I pulled the duvet over my head as the muffled noises of my mum rummaging around in the kitchen met my ears. With the deepest sigh and yet another life devastating groan I stretched out my hand from under the warm shelter and grabbed my phone, which was charging on the bed table. 6.30 am. Life seemed unbearable in that moment; waking up before your alarm clock even went off.

I had half an hour to kill before having to get ready for school and my currently slow mind gradually recovered from the sleepiness, as I recalled why I had stayed up so late last night.

Besides the colorful background and the digital numbers my phone showed that I had received yet another message; I must have fallen asleep before seeing it.

I didn’t even have to read the name of the sender - I already knew it was from my natural redhead (as she would always point out) and my very best friend, Emily Johnson. The everlasting gossip girl of Foxwell High - or Foxwell City for that matter. Of course she hadn’t wasted a second shooting me a message at eight o’clock last night barely being able to contain her excitement as she had written - with an excessive amount of exclamation points - that a new family had moved into the house next to her. As strong as her gossip girl gene was - just as prominent was her fixation on boys. We had been texting for hours, since - to the misery of my phone bill - the new family had two sons who were and I quote ‘So fucking smoking hot, I think I am going to pass out.’

She had spend hours trying to share her excitement with me, as she apparently had been able to watch how the two brothers had helped their parents carry the furniture inside the new house in the late summer evening. She had even gone as far as to try and send me a MMS with a picture of them, that underlined that her stalker behavior had reached a new level of absolute insanity - of course I had refused to open it. But I had barely needed to see the image, as her messages had contained strongly detailed descriptions of every little move they apparently had made.

Of course they were going to start at our school. I opened the message with a sigh holding the phone up over my head. It contained yet another comment of how one of the brothers had been wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt and she had already concluded that he was her soulmate to be.

I smiled lazily as the dust particles flew in through the stream of sunshine that lit up my room, as I read through our conversation from last night. Why would anyone move to this town? That was the question that kept occupying my mind, as my senses slowly became more aware and the tiredness dissolved. Of all the places in the world they had chosen Foxwell City - why?  

Since that question had no realistic answers which I could possibly imagine - none that didn’t include being paid a fucking unicorn’s weight in gold just to come here or maybe they were some secret agents needing a cover up in the smallest shit town they could find on the map. I shook my head still in the dark of the needed answer and got up before walking off the the bathroom. Whatever their reason was I probably wouldn’t find it convincing enough.

Slipping out of my tank top and pajamas pants, I went into the shower. The water always had this incredible awakening affect on me. Even though I always spent the last ten minutes of the shower to let the nearly boiling hot water stream over me; it was usually here I got my ideas for short stories, by letting my mind wander off to unknown places. As the scent of rose shampoo filled my nose, another idea created itself. This time the story that was formed included two mysterious brothers who were so stunning; they were destined to be trouble as well.

By the time the story had basically written itself and I had finally gotten dressed, the sun was sending its sunbeams in over the valley and the unquestionable delicious scent of home cooked pancakes oozed through the house reaching me here - on the second floor, which I had practically had for myself ever since my older brother, Jason Stone, had gone off to college. Only two more years to go and this place would be history. Being part of this American stereotype scenario would finally get an end to it.