Boston McCormick

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Boston’s brown eyes made me uneasy; almost made it impossible for me to focus. They were the kind of eyes you’d find on a Calvin Klein model. The kind of eyes that radiated a brown so rich, so pure, so sweet.

 

Too bad he was a complete pain in my arse.

 

“Boston, I have a couple conditions.”

 

It sounded weird coming out of my mouth. It sounded weird acting so polite in front of him period. Ever since we were seven- well he was seven; I was six, we have been going at each others throats. That’s how our parents saw us, that’s the way our friends saw us, and that’s the way our highschool saw us. The sun and the moon, cats and dogs, black and white, night and day, Leyton and Boston.

 

“What’s the matter Babe?” his eyes twinkled. “Don’t trust me?”

 

Our rivalry started when Boston so kindly decided to pants me in front of all of his friends. I was six, we were neighbors, and he was the devil. Well, technically he still is the devil. With his perfect smile, tousled brown hair, dark brown orbs, and cheekbones everybody loved him; aside from myself.

 

“Of course I don’t trust you, have you ever met you?”

 

He shook his head, “What are the rules Leyton? You’re wearing out my patience.”  

 

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly. Why was I doing this? Why was I even putting up with him? We both have some serious boredom issues that's why. I glared at him, my blue eyes pierced directly into his. He knew I was serious about this, but god forbid he ever be serious about anything.

 

“Rule number one-”

 

“Should I be taking notes Miss. Lancaster?”

 

I growled at him and he lit a cigarette. He always did that when he was bored, and I hated it. Although it did make him look bad ass. Let me paint you a picture; his back up against my brick house, his muscular arms covered with a leather jacket, and a cigarette in his hand. Boston could pull off that look. He blew the smoke out while I inhaled causing me to hack up.

 

“Do you really have to do that right now?”

 

Boston smiled, “Continue with rule number one Babe.”

 

I gritted my teeth, I absolutely despised being called Babe. It made me feel like he thought he was superior. Not to mention It’s such a demeaning word, and he only did it to piss me off. If possible, it made me resent him even more each time he said it.

 

“Rule number one,” I repeated. “Nothing illegal.”

 

He huffed,  “How about a compromise?”

 

This is what I mean, he is always trying to disagree with me. He never can come to terms with me, because he’s so stubborn. I guess I can’t really complain though; I’m just stubborn, if not more stubborn than he is.

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