full throttle || h.s. ||

prologue || trouble

the song for this chapter is "Trouble," by Cage The Elephant :)

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Trouble on my left, trouble on my right
I've been facing trouble almost all my life
My sweet love, won't you pull me through?
Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you
I said it was love and I did it for life
I didn't do it for you

***********

Finley James

      I never had been a trouble maker. 

  But then again, I guess the definition of a trouble maker could be rather subjective. 

   I never had been the kid to cause issues in a classroom. I rarely got grounded, and when I did, I am pretty sure it's so my parents felt they were executing some form of discipline, just to say that they had at least once or twice. 

    Don't mistake my good behavior for being softspoken, for that was something that I definitely was not. My grandmother used to tell me, "A woman's should always be heard, even if no one is listening." The gist of her message is that, even if no one cared to hear what you had to say, you had to at least say it for yourself. 

    I guess I would say that I was an ambivert, there was a part of me that loved the feeling of being social, but then another large portion of me deeply valued my alone time, perhaps more so than the time I spent out with other people. 

    Sure, I partied. I snuck out a couple of times in my high school career, and I had definitely failed more than one test, all thanks to my arch-nemesis, math. 

   I kissed boys whose names I didn't know, and I had drunk texted my old volleyball coach Ms. Rollins on regrettably numerous occasions, asking her if she wanted to take shots with me. 

   I did all of the things that, in my opinion, growing up entails. Had I done things I was not supposed to? Of course, but I never went looking for trouble, sometimes, it just found me. 

   So, as I said, I had never been a trouble maker.

    Knowing what you know now, you can imagine my reaction when asked by my best friends, the only people I could truly stand to be around for an extended period of time, Willa Prescott and Lars Bucanan if I wanted to accompany them to a place that literally screamed trouble. 

    "Absolutely not," I stated firmly, shaking my head so quickly that I caused a few strands of hair to fall out from my already unruly bun, which was holding on for dear life within the confines of my shitty elastic, that I admit, was probably on its last leg.  

    I always wore my elastics until their literal breaking point. I refused to take out a new one until the current one snapped in half. I don't know what the reason behind this was, I had so many of them, it was just a habit that I had picked up and never quite learned to put back down. 

    "I told you she would say no," Lars pouted, rolling his eyes in Willa's direction.

  Willa crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at me, and I wanted so badly to reach up from my spot on Lars' bed to 'boop' her nose and further aggravate her, but I contained myself and my impulsive urges. 

     I groaned under her scrutinous eye and rubbed my hands down my face, yet another habit I should probably get ahold of before I caused premature aging.