7. [Isabella]

798K 10.7K 1.7K
                                    

As I saw the alarm clock flashing ten o'clock, I was extremely grateful that it was Saturday. Groggily, I raised myself up from my bed and walked over to my closet. Thanks to Mom's excessive shopping habits, I had an endless supply of clothes and accessories. But to my mom's chagrin, I usually pick out t-shirts and sweats to wear. Everything else I had was either too small, or unflattering on me. Today wasn't any different as I grabbed a basic t-shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

After taking a quick shower, I dried off and changed into the outfit I'd picked out earlier. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw that my hair was unruly and sticking out in every direction possible. Sighing, I took out a brush and got ready to battle with my tangles.

Not long after, I emerged feeling somewhat victorious as I headed back to my room, seeing Amanda in the same position I had left her in. I went over and bent down to her level as I attempted to shake her awake. After minutes of constant yelling, shaking, and poking, I gave up after getting no response.

Deciding that it would be a better idea to just check on her later, I made my way towards the kitchen. It was rather average—granite counters, stainless steel appliances, and ceramic floor tiles—typical for what you'd expect in a house like mine. Well . . . kind of.

My parents had the kitchen remodeled a few years back when they decided to hire someone who could actually cook. Because let's face it, they couldn't.

So, if we were ever hungry, all we had to do was ask our chef to make us anything we wanted. By anything, I meant anything. In all probability this nutritional independence is probably what made me gain weight in the first place. I mean I wasn't always fat. I didn't even start to gain weight until I entered middle school, and it just sort of continued from there.

"What would you like for breakfast, Isabella?"

Startled, I looked up to observe Mr. Baker staring at me with a jovial look on his face.

"Um . . . something healthy?" I ventured.

"Sure. How about a breakfast parfait? It's low fat in dairy, with vitamin rich fruits, and it has twenty-three grams of protein. Plus, it's delicious," Mr. Baker recited. I smiled. There was a reason he graduated first in his class.

"Sure, that sounds great," I said. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, Isabella," he said back with a wide smile of his own.

He soon returned to where I was sitting and placed the parfait in front of me. I looked at it, while imagining the bacon, egg, and sausage I normally ate.

"Thanks," I said, as I continued to observe my brightly colored breakfast.

"You're welcome," he said with a smirk and then walked away.

I suppose it looked . . . good. Swallowing, I picked up my spoon and slowly tasted it. After a moment of chewing, my eyes widened. This was so much better than any fried bacon I'd ever had! Maybe eating healthy wouldn't be so bad after all.

I began to scoop more and more into my mouth, and before I knew it, it was all gone. Licking my lips, I grabbed my dishes and deposited them into the sink, giving our staff less work.

As soon as I turned around, I found my brother, John leaning against the door frame. He was in his boxers, his blonde hair a complete morning mess, and yet he still looked as good as usual. How are we related?

"God John, put some clothes on!" I said, covering my eyes.

"Bell, I'm home," he murmured, while he yawned. "Plus, it's not like you haven't seen me in my boxers before."

"So?" I asked, still refusing to look at him.

"So, it means I don't need to change if I don't want to." I rolled my eyes as he let out a rather large yawn. "Besides," he continued, ending his yawn, "you know I'm not a morning person."

"Then why are you even up?" I questioned, removing my hands from my eyes.

"Because, today's the first day to your official new life style," he informed me.

"Wait what?" My eyes widened. "I never said when."

"Yeah, well your personal trainer is coming today and your home tutor is coming Monday morning."

"Are you like some snoop or something? How do you even know that?" I asked, as I placed my hands on my hip.

"Actually, I overheard Mom on the phone last night after you went to sleep. She's pretty serious about this. I think it's what she's been hoping for a while now. All of us have." I looked straight into my older brother's eyes, realizing that my family always wanted the best for me. They really do support me.

"Well in that case, when is she supposed to be here?"

"Well, he's suppose to be here in about thirty minutes," he emphasized 'he' with a slight frown.

"Wait, he?" Uh no. I didn't want a guy trainer. That would just be . . . it would be, awkward.

"Yeah well, I'm not too happy about that either. That's why I'm here."

"And why is that?"

"What do you mean why? He's a complete stranger who we know nothing about."

"Well, Mom obviously trust him enough to let him have the job without even a proper meeting first."

He huffed as he crossed his arms, but said nothing in return. I smiled in triumph, knowing I won.





By the time I had finally accepted the fact that I was getting a male trainer, John had already gotten his food from Mr. Baker. Sighing to myself, I headed for the stairs on a mission to wake Amanda up.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"Um, up to my room to see if Amanda's up yet . . . why?"

"I just wanted to know, that's all." I gave him a look and his eyes narrowed. "But if that personal trainer of yours gets here, you better tell me," he said, while he pointed his finger at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I will," I said back, rolling my eyes. As the muscles in his face tightened in a frown, I smiled. "Don't worry, big brother."

"You'd better!" he yelled after me as I walked away.

While laughing hard, slightly from the look on John's face, and slightly from sleep deprivation, I clearly wasn't looking straight and ran into somebody. I let out a few curses under my breath, squinting my eyes.

I glanced up, expecting to see an extremely groggy, Amanda. Instead, my sleep deprived mind started playing tricks on me. There was no way a genuinely hot guy was actually standing in front of me.

My eyes went wide as my face began to flush. I did a quick survey of the guy in front of me. He was definitely real. I blinked as a pair of aqua colored pools stared back at me. A boyish smile played across his lips as he ran a hand through his wavy locks.

"Um hi . . ." I fumbled for words as I cleared my throat.

"Hey." I suddenly felt weak. His voice was like velvet.

"Uh, not to sound rude or anything but . . . who are you?" The fact that he was a stranger in my house hit me later than it should have, but at the moment, I couldn't exactly think straight with all of his toned beauty in my face. He definitely worked out with the way his body looked.

He laughed. "I'm Alex," he said with a grin, while holding out a hand for me to shake. "You must be Isabella. Nice to meet you."

Smiling back, I took his hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. "Yeah, you too. How do you know my name?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" At my blank look, he gave me one of his perfect smiles again. "I'm your personal trainer."

I felt like a gutted fish as my mouth framed an oval. He was way too young and hot to be my trainer. How on earth was I was going to focus now, let alone sweat in front of this beautiful boy? This was just wonderful . . . I was so screwed.

Cover made by Vanilla.

My High School Life [Rewritten - Ongoing]Where stories live. Discover now