Fools

1- Sam

ALL RIGHTS TO THIS BOOK ARE RESERVED TO ME. MEANING YOU CAN NOT COPY IT AND TAKE CREDIT. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO POST MY STORY ANYWHERE AND CLAIM IT AS YOURS. ALL CREDIT GOES TO ME.

Thank you so much for choosing Fools to read! I'm very excited for this book :)

Just a reminder that I am a NEW author and still have a lot to learn. So, ALL HATE COMMENTS WILL BE DELETED! (Bc I am a delicate flower that can only handle so much hate🤧)

⚠️Warning ⚠️
This book contains sex scenes, mature language (a lot), anger issues, physical/verbal abuse (I'll put trigger warning for abuse), drug use, But also a lot of gay shit ;) proceed with caution!

Lastly, where are my ftr at? I wanna know time/place of reading —>

Xoxo Bert

***

Sam

"Mom! Where'd you put my backpack?!"

Here's the thing about moving to a new town; you don't remember which box you put your things in! Should I have labeled the boxes? Probably. But did I? No. So, when you have five minutes until you have to leave to go to school— a brand new school— and have a nagging older sister yelling at you to 'get your gay ass in the car' and you have absolutely no clue where your book bag is, you might stress out!

Like me; I was at the highest level of stress my body has ever obtained when every area in my room had been searched and STILL NO BACKPACK!

Coming to the conclusion that my backpack is not in my bedroom, I decided to check downstairs. "Mom!" I yelled once more as I made my way into the kitchen.

"What?" my mother questions from the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at the dish that once contained last night's casserole. You'd think for our first night in a new town, my mom would settle for Chinese food delivery or something instead of cooking, but no. She's a firm believer in always having a home cooked meal where everyone sits around the table. Which, I guess isn't a horrible thing.

"Where's my backpack?" I asked, looking around frantically.

"You mean that purple backpack on the couch right there?" She questioned, pointing her pink manicured nails to the tv room. My mom is the type of mom that always has to look put together. Acrylic nails (A classic pink or red), makeup done even then at 6:50 in the morning. My mother has her no-heat curlers from the night before, still in. She wouldn't be caught dead with them outside of the house. Right now, she has her 'cleaning clothes' on which consists of her purple Lululemon leggings and a matching tank top.

I followed her gaze and sure enough, my backpack was laying on the couch like nobody's business. Our living room looked like it wasn't just filled with boxes the night before. With the two couches and La-Z-Boy clutter free, save for some decorative pillow. All of our family photos evenly hung up on walls. Our tv and entertainment center ready to be used. My mom must've stayed up late last night to unpack, she's not one to waste any seconds.

"I went to the store last night and bought you and Haven extra pencils," My mom said with a warm, motherly smile.

I sighed, frustrated that she moved it without my knowledge, but ultimately grateful for the supplies, "thank you," I grumbled as I walked over to the couch and swung the notorious purple Nike bag over my shoulders. I turned around only to find my mother standing next to me with open arms. "Mom," I whined, but hugged her anyway. "I have to go," I murmured into her hair.