Monophobia

Chap.1: Ever heard of personal space?

Authors Nag Nag Nag: 

((((LAME JOKE TIME!)-  

Me: Why didnt the mellons get maried?....phffft.....Because they cantaloupe!! HaHaHa... 

Reader: still not funny. 

Me:...yeah, yeah, I know -_-.))))

Chapter One: Ever heard of personal space?!

"Carriel, Get up!" a familiar voice screamed out slamming me back into consciousness. I scream too jumping up from bed. That, was my first mistake.  

Because even as I'm souring though the air with the tan glint of my carpet moving towards me at the speed of extreme pain when colision, I already know who was resposible.

And like everyother morning, I have a brief moment of-"I believe I can flyyy" for about a nanosecond. This, of course, ended with an audible "UAGH!" and a mouthful of my carpet. Theres a slight "crunch" as my nose crams into the floor. Instantly, pain exploded throughout my body, especialy my face.

But I know its not broken, this was regular procedure when living next to an ass like Tristan Starkz. That didnt mean the pain wasnt there. And a shitload of pain it was! My eyes were watering as my head thumpt with nyrons yelling at me that soomething was terribly wrong. 

There's complete silence for about ten seconds after my not-so-gracefull decend from bed. Then his rich laughter followed drowning out everyother sound. I murfle an incorent sentence into the carpet.

"Pure gold. That was golden!" Tristan, laughs as he smoothly swings out my window onto the branch of an old ouk. The gesture so automatic like he had done it a thousand times. Prabably because he has.  

Pulling myself up to a sitting position, back against the bed. I blink several times making sure everything still worked fine.  

"I'm going to kill you Starkz. One day im gonna kill you in your sleep" I grumbled loudly waving my fist at him.

"I would file murder threat but we both know your too much of a nerdical to attempt murder. Not to mention murdering a sexy beast like me." he smirked. I watch him run over the branch and swiftly climb up to his bedroom window.

Whomever was the architect for our houses clearly had thier head somewhere else when they designed the outline. More accurately up thier asš.  

My room was less than six feet away from the room of the biggest player ever to hit Seymour Virginia. And he seemed to have taken it upon himself to make my life a living nightmare. How the hell I survived the past 16 years of life next door to that arrogant jerk is beyond me. 

"You need to get over your self you self centered prick. And nerdical is NEVER going to pass so stop your lame attempt at creating a new word!" I say all this in one breath, glaring daggers at him. 

"oh, kitty. My beautiful wild kittycat. It will pass. Nerd and a knowitall, a nerdicall." He sighs with a dreamy look in his eyes. For a while I'm speechless. This guy had issues. Serious issues.  

"That doesn't even make any sense.You can't just combine two words to make your own." 

"Well I just did." He winked. I gave him a blank stare.  

"Tristan. I don't know what your problem is. But it's probably hard to pronounce. So just stay out of my room, and quit it with the nicknames." I say before slamming my window shut. Storming to my closet to figure out what I would be wearing today. 

"Love you too, chickenfeet" 

"Don't call me that!" 

"Whatever you say, Kittycat." 

"Just shut up Tristan." 

"I would. But I don't want to put you through such a traumatic experience. I don't think your bladder can take the extra pressure." He laughed. I slammed the doors back open. 

"That was one night, six years ago Starkz. And it was your fault for giving me hot sauce as ketchup!" 

"I didn't ask you to chuck down two gallons of lemonade. That was totally your choice. And really, who still wets the bed at ten years?" He laughs. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Which probably make him laugh more. I trend to look like a baboons butt when I'm mad. That deep sense of frustration I always got when I was around him started boiling up.  

"You know I can't take down anything too spicy! You knew! But you still made me chuck down a bottle of hot sauce!"  

"You asked for sauce. I gave you sauce. Next time be more specific"  

"Jerk!" I yelled wanting more than anything to smack that gloating smirk off his face. The smirk disappeared. He slowly leans forward. I catch my breath as those two piercing bluegreen spheres narrow, capturing me in their hold. I feel my chest give am involuntary thump as my throat goes dry and I gulp at how absolutely alluring he looked with this hair cascading down his cheeks. A burning urge erupted within me to run my hands through the soft looking silky black strands.

"Nerdical" he says before flashing me a lopsided grin. I slammed the window shut, sealing out the outburst of his laughter. Of course he had to ruin the moment. What else did I expect.

I rush into the bathroom, seething and knowing I was already running late. Thanks to that self centered, overarching, jerkface of an ego-maniac. Could his ego get any bigger? I bet it was already disturbing the earths gravity.

He wasn't always such a self centered jerk. Before he was only an evil genius jerk. That was before puberty hit and the hormones kicked in. 

Tristan Starkz was the catch. Everyone who had ever laid eyes on this otherworldly sexgod would approve. He started dating high school girlfriends by junior high. And has been through about four models in our three years at Seymour Private. Long dark silky hair with piercing green eyes. Even some of the guys join the girls and drool when they lay eyes on him. Who wouldn't want a piece of that sexy beast. With his height towering 6 ft 3. And those broad muscles, the slight British accent he has from visiting his dad every year in Britain. But I knew better.

For me, he's the annoying prick next door who never leaves me alone. Not since I moved here when I was three. Now currently sixteen, and my life is always being flipped over by Tristan Starkz. I actually had a crush on him one time. That lasted about three days, before he stuffed my locker with mud and disgusting used football practice Jerseys and undergarments. My miniature crush evaporated the second I was hit in the face by the stench of my locker the next morning. 

Sighing, I turn to check in the mirror one last time. My brown curls were up in a partial ponytail. My favorite pair of white skinny jeans and a mint lace top on. Some mascara to frame my violet eyes that I covered with my usual blue contacts. I had freakishly violet eyes that nobody knows where they came from. They were too...intense. I have been wearing contacts over them since I can remember.  

Grabbing my backpack, I dash out of there just to watch my stupid ass brother drive away.  

"Phonix!" I screamed after the quickly retreating car. But it was already too late. The bus left ages ago which basically means I'll be walking to school.  

I'd be reaching at least 1/2 an hour late.  

....yeah, I dont think so.

~*°*~*°*~ 

To knock, or not to knock. That is the question. To knock will bring me constant frustration and anger for twenty minutes in a secluded car. That, I did not want. And yet, not to knock means at least an hour of walking and another of detention after school. Normally it would be a no-brainer what my choice would be. But 20 minutes in a car with him. That will ensure my insanity.  

But I've never been to detention or gotten in trouble. In my life. My mom would have a heart attack if that happened. So will the school head mistress probably. One of their top students in detention. Student council vice president late for school. 

I gulp, before bringing my hand down on the white door. In less than a minute I hear footsteps and I mentally prepare myself for what's going to come.  

Shit. I'm so screwed.