Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 10: Don't Sweat

Grumbling, I take the pillow of my head and sit up. My hair falls in waves around me. It takes me a minute and a very dizzy vision to spot Archer, who's crossing his arms and looking at me with an amused expression.

There's something in the crook of his elbow, I notice, waking up. I narrow my eyes.

"Is that Charlotte?"

He's holding my precious teddy bear. The bastard. No wonder he looks so smug.

"You named it Charlotte?"

"Give me that," I snap, going on my knees. I try to yank her out of his arms, but he persistently holds on and raises an eyebrow. It's because I'm tired that I can't pry it out of his arms. I give up.

"I'll give it back once you get ready."

"Fine," I snap. Half-dizzy and half-annoyed, I head towards my closet. My legs get caught in my sheets and I trip, but manage to catch myself just in time.

"Are you alright?"

"No." I grumble, getting out the first shirt I see. "You're ruining my life."

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

"I guess I'll leave you alone now."

"Please do."

He gives me one last grin before going downstairs - with Charlotte under his arm.

I grab a black shirt and jacket from my closet and strip my clothes, cursing him under my breath. I tug my shirt over my head. First, the horse and now, this. I need to get rid of him quickly and efficiently - truce be damned.

Halfway between putting my pants on, I trip and hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Shit," I hiss. "Shit, shit, shit..."

I shove my pants on quickly. Then, I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth without looking in the mirror. I splash water on my face in order to refresh myself. It doesn't do anything but make my headache worse. I put a beanie over my hair because I'm too rushed to comb it. Since there's no time for eyeliner, I grab it and shove it in my pocket.

Then, I go downstairs, where Archer and my mom are chatting casually. I eye them grumpily and get out two pieces of bread to put in the toaster.

"Peyton, you're already late," Mom says, watching me as I apply my eyeliner in the microwave reflection. It goes well with the dark circles under my eyes.

Wonderful.

"I don't care," I mutter bitterly.

My hand slips and a steak of black falls from my eyes to my nose. I sigh and try to wipe it away. After I'm done, I cap my eyeliner and slam it on the countertop. Screw both of them. I could be all warm and cozy right now, but no, they just have to make my life miserable.

"Peyton's not a morning person," Mom informs Archer, who nods in agreement.

I take out my hairbrush and run it through my hair. My black beanie lies on the kitchen table, so I give up on making my hair look pretty and put that on instead.

"You know what Archer and I were just talking about?" Mom says.

I actually didn't give a damn. But, instead, I just press my lips together and shake my head (half to respond and half to shake the tiredness out).

"He invited us to dinner this Sunday."

"What?" That wakes me up. I turn around midway between patting my black beanie down. "But, we just went to their house last week."