Our Secret

One

"Dude, where are hell all of my clothes?!" I curse to myself as I grab every piece of clothing that I own, trying to piece together an outfit that is even at least mildly attractive. Not that there's really anyone to be impressing, but hey, can't blame a girl for trying right? 

I lean over and press shuffle on my playlist trying to get myself pumped up for the day.

Ugh, not another love song again.

Accepting the fact that I'll never find anything cute, I throw on my favorite pair of skinny jeans, a white V-neck and pair of flipflops and head towards the mirror. My hair looks crazy, so I pull the long brunette locks up in a ponytail and wisp a quick layer of mascara around my hazel eyes, silently thanking my mother for the one thing on myself that I genuinely like.  

I pick up my backpack and make my way to the kitchen. My mom doesn't usually make breakfast for me, which is fine because she's constantly  busy trying to wrangle my 5 year old brother Austin, who's currently running around the house.  So I decide to just grab a pop-tart and a water bottle and head to school. 

"Have a good day at school Carson!" my mom practically yells from the living room.

"I'll try!" I shout back, and head out the door. 

I can feel the cool ocean breeze drifting from down the street against my skin. That's always something that I've loved about living in my tiny town in Southern California, it pretty much stays 80 degrees year round and you can get to the beach in about than 10 minutes no matter where you're at.

The walk to school isn't so bad, it only takes a few minutes to get to from my house, so I put one of my headphones in and blast some Kid Cudi. 

I seriously don't know how the fuck I'm not deaf yet.

"Carson!" I hear Dylan and Juliette scream in unison from across the street.

Dylan Bradley and Juliette Balencourt, two of my closest friends, but if I'm being honest Dylan and I are way closer than me and Juliette. I don't want it to be that way but it's hard when she's always making us feel beneath her or trying to one up us some how. I'm not sure why she feels the need to do it, she has long blonde, professionally styled hair and a body that anyone would kill for, oh yeah, and she's filthy stinking rich too. 

For instance, this one day a few weeks ago we were at her house by the beach getting ready to go to some Frat party, so we wanted to look cute. She had asked me if she looked good and of course she looked flawless, wearing a black bodycon dress with 5 inch louis Vuitton heels. So I said yes, and we left the house and started walking toward the party. Literally half way there, which was about a 30 minute walk, she saw her reflection in a store window and decided that she looked horrible and began cursing at me for being the worst best friend for allowing her to leave the house looking "like shit". 

She made us walk all the way back, in heels, just for us to sit in her room all night and dissect the aspects of her appearance that she hated and bitching at me for it. To be completely honest, I didn't even want to go to the party, I was scared from all of the horror stories about getting slipped a roofie but once she set her mind to going, then we're going. 

Dylan on the other hand, is a lot more like me, we both come from humble military families, and we are both pretty laid back, so when we met in the 8th grade we naturally clicked. We do pretty much everything together, and might as well be connected at the hip. She's a bit taller than I am though, about 5'4" and has long curly black locks with piercing blue eyes. It's nice knowing that I have a best friend that will always have my back and that I can share all of my darkest secrets with. That's my ride or die bitch.