The Good Girl's Bad Side

Chapter 2: What's your name?

Hailey's POV

"Any friends yet?" my mom asks as we eat breakfast. She is a beautiful woman in her early 40s. She has dark brown hair and a model body with curves in all the right places. I see why my dad married her, apart from her awesome personality.

"Yep. She's coming over to pick me up," I nod.

"Okay. Glad you're already fitting in," she says happily. "Any...guy yet?" She asks with hope.

"Mom," I whine. "Do you always have to go there? You know I don't want to date," I say, annoyed.

"I know, I know. I just had to know. Do you blame me for desperately wanting my daughter to have a boyfriend so that I can finally give her relationship advice," she asks.

I give her a 'seriously? ' look.

I hear Peyton's car outside and I immediately kiss my mom goodbye before she says something ridiculous again, making my way towards the door. I go out and make way towards Peyton's car and I enter, throwing myself on the passenger, leather seat.

"Nice house," those are her first words as she starts driving. My house is big, almost mansion big, but I don't like bragging about it.

"Thanks," I say. "So how are you?" She asks.

"Good."

"Just good?" She raises her eyebrow.

"Yeah. What else did you expect me to say?" I ask perplexed.

"How many friends have you had in your life?" She questions.

"Four?..." I raise my eyebrow.

"Guys or girls?"

"Guys."

"I see," she nods us if she discovered something new. "Well say hello to your first female friend and now new best friend!" She exclaims.

"Okay," I laugh. "Hi new best friend."

She grins. "So now that we're best friends, don't mind me asking but... What are you wearing?" She asks, giving me that I can't believe you look.

"Clothes," I say.

"Yeah right," she huffs. "That shirt doesn't deserve to be called clothing." I am wearing a Manchester shirt with black jeans and my white converse.

"Hey!" I hit her playfully. "I love my shirt. My brother gave it to me," I pout.

"I can see that," she laughs and I join her. Who knew having a friend would be this fun.

"We're here," she says as she parks her car in the school's parking lot.

We enter the school and immediately make our way to our lockers. Surprisingly, her locker was two lockers away from mine.

"So Hailey, there's a party this weekend and I hoping you'd come," she says.

"I think I'll pass. I am not a party person," I say.

"Oh c'mon, it'll be fun," she whines.

"Well I'd rather be home and study," I say, clearly not interested in the party.