BEING EDITED
~†~
Local neighborhood orphan, Brooklyn Persson, has only ever wanted one thing:
Freedom.
Not family, not food, just pure unrestricted independence -although she can't deny that money would be a nice addition too.
However, just three m...
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BROOKLYN
Having no regard whatsoever for earth's population or the idiots behind the door, I grabbed the door handle and twisted it open, immediately —but not regrettably— finding myself in a steamy room with walls painted a fine shade of blue, surrounded by a bunch of fine ass half-naked (and naked, of course) male... bodies of different colors, shapes and sizes. From tall macho to short lean to that awkward in between and —damn!
Daaaaaaaayyyuuuum.
It didn't take long for the sunrise of realization to dawn on me. This, this room I'd submerged myself in, this was the boy's locker room. And I'd just walked in on about half of the most annoying Forest Ridge boys changing.
Oh shit.
Shit.
It was in that moment of my internal existential crisis —and my damned legs choosing the WRONGEST time in the fucking world to remain transfixed— that I just so happened to lock eyes with a certain (shirtless) Horacio —Henry.
"SWEET JESUS!"
Briefly, they all turned to the little blond boy that'd just screamed then to the direction of the doorway where I, wholly female —last I checked— stood, completely amused inspite of the aura of indifference I gave off. As though in sync, they seemed to freeze for the tiniest fraction of a second before breaking loose, letting out some of the inhumane shrieks I've ever heard and running —jumping even— helter skelter in an attempt to cover up themselves and regain or steal back a little or some bit of their dignity.
"Sheesh woman!"
"Don't you fucking know how to knock?"
"You're not even supposed to be in here! It's called the boys' changing room for a reason!"
I couldn't help but smirk, somewhat satisfied by the chaos in front of me as I shoved my hands back into my pockets.
"You know," I started with a chuckle, still very much amused. "I'm sure it's nothing I haven't already seen before."
I didn't know how, I had no fucking idea why and I can't exactly remember if I've actually said it out before but despite my bad luck or rather, because of it, chaos always managed to give me this chilling sense of peace and calm. Like it was the one goddamned thing, if not the only thing, I could relate to —with.
It's something I've always found strange about myself, coupled with the fact that I didn't fucking know if I was trying to fit the image people had already created of me or it —chaos was just simply who I was as a person.
Truth be told, shit was completely confusing as fuck.
"It still doesn't explain–" He sighed, stopping himself short, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your Highness," he continued, dripping venom and sarcasm, "what do you want?"
