Hidden (The Ambrosia Series Book #1)

Crashing Motorcyles is an art form I swear!

I remember when I stole Jesse McCannon's motorcycle and crashed it.

On purpose.

It was right after I found out he was fucking Ann Peluski behind my back. I had been furious when I caught them making out in the corner store. I quickly chucked the Dr. Pepper I'd just bought at them and ran out. Spotting his motorcycle, I decided to take it for a little "joyride". The thing is, the idiot always left the keys in the ignition and so I turned it, and rode straight into the brick wall of the store, jumping off just in time. Needless to say, I delighted in his tortured cries as he tried to nurse its mangled leftovers.

At the present time, I was mulling over what I'd done because I had recently committed this act. Last night. And my good natured mother was hauling me over to the McCannon residence to apologize. There was a small problem with that though...

See, I wasn't sorry. Not even a little bit. I was, frankly, a little insulted that my mom was so much of a goody two-shoes that she'd force me to apologize to that piece of shit, though.

Even worse, she'd forced me into a dress and heels. I hate dresses and I'm convinced heels were invented as a medieval torture device. My feet were going to ache like hell after this.

"Tristan," my mother looked at me sternly as we approached the suburban yellow house with a mat that said 'McCannon'.

Well now I don't feel very welcome... Pun intended.

"Yes mom?" I rolled my eyes.

"Remember that you're here to apologize to Jesse and his father so try to at least look remorseful." She scolded and fluffed her honey colored hair.

I wanted to remind her that this wasn't a beauty pageant so all of this "dressing up" she'd done was unnecessary. But no, we were here visiting the home of a single dad and, well, she was a single mom with an 17 year old on the way out. She didn't want to be "that lonely single mother" so she'd been dating a lot recently.

My mom was that mom. The one that related to teenage problems and was overall chill. She wore fashionable clothes, was drop dead gorgeous and looked in her late teens rather than early thirties. Only, it seems that she'd skipped any awkward stage that comes with the struggles of being a teen girl.

My mom had the youthful looks and the womanhood. The total package. But the woman was a firecracker and tended to scare men off after she charmed them with her delicate, pixie-like features. If only I'd been blessed with them but the only thing I got from her was green eyes and they were nowhere near as harrowingly beautiful as my mother's.

Mom knocked of the door and I sighed. A middle-aged man opened the door. He was pretty good looking with his dark features and hair.

If only he wasn't nearly a head shorter than my mom.

I guess that's what you get when your legs go on for miles.

Mom's smile faltered but Mr. McCannon smiled enough for the two of them. It seemed like he was already taken with her. I snorted and Mom shot me a warning look.

If I were a better daughter I might have heeded the warning.

Unfortunately, I don't give a flying sack of crap about warnings.

That's right, I was the girl who, if pushed, pushed back a hundred times harder and knocked you to the ground for good measure and then kicked you in the head just to make sure you were out. I'm mean, to put it simply. Impishly evil.

I tapped Mom's shoulder smirking, "I make no promises I cannot keep."

She glared at me and then went back to awkwardly waiting for Mr. McCannon to stop leering at her. I bet that he was dreaming about their nonexistent future; he had such a lovestruck face on.