Bound To You

Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for giving this story a try.  I hope you enjoy it.

                                                   Chapter 1           

“Samantha! Get up now or we are going to miss our flight.” 

Ugh. I hated it when mom called me by my full name. She knows that everyone else calls me Sam even my dad. Even Sammy is better than Samantha. Who could have chosen a more girly name? No name beats Samantha Belle in the contest for girly-ness. Oh well, I can’t dwell on my name too long or else we will miss our flight to Europe.  I am hoping to find some hot European guy, with an accent. Who is totally badass and rides a motorcycle, or maybe a scooter.  I don’t know if they drive motorcycles over there, I will have to ask someone.

I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and went over to my bureau to see what I should wear for this lovely flying day. I started pulling things out of the drawers, until I came upon my favorite jeans. They were ripped at the knee on the left and upper thigh on the right, and they were skinny jeans. I can’t wear very baggy jeans (or clothes for that matter) because I’m always afraid of them falling off.  I am very slender but on the taller side,  5’6 ½” , so it is hard to find clothes that fit tight enough and are long enough. After another minute or so, I found a light grey camisole to wear under my off the shoulder top. I paired this outfit with some grey slouchy boots and I was ready for makeup.  I walked over to the bathroom quickly and found what I needed, my mascara, lip gloss and eyeliner. I don’t put on a lot of makeup because I don’t want to be too girly. I look in the mirror one more time to check how my makeup looks. My face is pimple free, which is surprising considering that all 15 year old girls get pimples, but I have never had one in my life.  I was just leaving the bathroom when I remembered I had to do my hair. I grabbed a hair tie and ran back in my bedroom. I grabbed my phone, i-touch, and digital camera.

I slid down the rail of the stairs to get to the kitchen where I grabbed an apple and my messenger bag on my way out the door. 

“Hurry up Sam. We’ve got a flight to catch,” said Luke Moore.

“I’m coming, I’m coming Dad. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”

He frowned impatiently as I sauntered over ever so slowly and gracefully. I liked to push his buttons; it gives me great joy to see him angry. Then he gave me the look and I immediately jogged the rest of the way to the car. I slid into the back of our BMW M6 convertible right next to my little sister Gracen. She was humming along to some Hannah Montana crap that she is always listening to or singing. I mean why can’t little kids get the fact through their heads that her songs are meant for teenagers? Even though her main audience is a bunch of five year olds. This was going to be a long ride.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my parents start talking about romance and how they met and blah blah blah. This was the torture that I had to endure every trip. Feel bad for me yet? At least I had my phone, and a book in my bag.  I put on my sunglasses, tousled my hair and  sighed, because the worst was still ahead of me.