Saving the Golden Boy

Chapter 2

Not editted, so please bear with me. If you find a mistake don't be afraid to point it out to me in a comment! :) Enjoy!

<^>

I’m still in my damp clothes from playing in the rain as we stand in the ticket line.



“What movie do ya wanna watch?” I look at the long list of movies and catch a girl checking Dylan out. I just roll my eyes and continue looking at the list.



“Um, Breaking Dawn?” I ask nervously. Yes, I had already watched the movie, but it was something I have yet to experience with my best friend!



“Nah, I don’t think I want to watch that again.” He states. I raise an eyebrow questioningly, wondering when he had watched it before this. He notices. “I was drug into it by this chick that I asked out on a date. Never again!” He declares.



“A movie date has to be the stupidest thing to do! Did you at least take her out to dinner first and get to know her a bit?” I ask, knowing that it couldn’t have been anyone from our school. He won’t give anyone at our school a chance.



We ended up watching a children’s movie. Although it was very cheesy (very, very cheesy), it was enjoyable because Dylan and I were both laughing extremely hard. The kid sitting in front of us gave us many weird looks.



Dylan dropped me off at my house, where I finally changed out of my damp clothes and into comfy pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Just seconds after my head touched the pillow, I was asleep, and the storm continued to rage on outside.



***



I awake the next morning to an extremely sore throat, the first symptom of an oncoming cold. I suppose that is my punishment for playing in the rain and not drying off before the movies. Yet even with this flaw in my morning, I refuse to wear the sweat pants that I deserve and instead slip on jeans and a nice shirt. After checking the mirror to make sure it was a decent look, I sluggishly walk up out of my basement bedroom and to the kitchen.



My father stands in front of the stove making bacon and eggs, while my mother is buttering toast. I say good morning to them both before making the three of us a cup of coffee, just the way we all like it: three heaps of sugar, a large shot of vanilla creamer, with whipping cream to top it all off.



As soon as Dad sits the plate of food in front of me, I dig in. The Black Hole – yes, my stomach is referred to as a black hole because it seems like I can eat all the time – seems to be satisfied as I finish off an extra piece of toast. Remembering that Dylan should be here any second to take me to school, I put my plate in the sink and dash back downstairs to throw on my boots and my signature black leather jacket. My hair was tangled, so I brushed it out quickly, making it pencil straight again, my blond locks framing my face perfectly. Secretly, when brushing my hair, I pretend that I am Rapunzel, because my hair reaches down to my butt and is a strawberry blonde color. Not that I would tell anyone this fact.



I make my way upstairs with my backpack on just as the doorbell rings. In some corner of my mind, I wonder why we haven’t just given the boy his own key yet. “You ready?” Dylan asks as I open the door. I notice that his shaggy brown hair is still sticking to his forehead, evidence of recently getting out of the shower.