Cloudless || YA Romance

1.

A/N: Welcome my reader, to Cloudless. I'm trying to write an actual book on here, unlike my usual fanfiction. If you like that stuff, I hope you'll like this too. Enjoy.

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-Asa-

I wake up Saturday morning to my dog licking my face.

"Dude, not cool." I say, and open my eyes to my always happy dog accompanied by my always happy father. "Hey now, Pic just wants to give you a kiss!" He says indignantly, and I groan. "Well Picasso needs to brush his teeth first, because although he's a great artist, 50 shades of yellow isn't working." My father laughs and whistles, his eyes twinkling with laughter. Pic immediately jumps off the bed and runs to my dad's side. He puts a cup of coffee next to me and leaves whistling some hippie song I've never heard.

I should probably explain why my dog's name is Picasso.

When we got him, he was the scrawniest pup you had ever seen. With matted hair and exposed ribs, 8 year old me was set on taking this tiny golden retriever home. While my father likes to tell people that I made him bring home the dog, he already had him halfway in the car. When we got home, we did what we could to make him comfortable. A makeshift bed, some kibble from our black lab Louie, that sort of thing. But little did we know that when we would wake up the next morning our house would be wrecked. Cushions were strewn everywhere, things knocked over in places he couldn't possibly reach, and then my paint set.

Somehow this dog had gotten into my paints and rolled around in them, leaving him rainbow. After further examination, my family realized that he had somehow managed to make a lopsided heart in his fur. So it was decided that his name would be Picasso, or Pic for short.

I laugh a little at the thought of this tiny dog making such a huge mess. Talent, my father claims. I tap my phone, it's 8:30 am, which is about 3 hours before I would naturally wake up. But today I actually have plans, our annual 'poster making day' for band starts in an hour, and I desperately need a shower. I drag myself out of bed and turn on the water. I scrub with my eyes closed, still half asleep.

Once clean, I throw on some shorts and a David Bowie tee shirt. These clothes are old ones, because knowing the band, we're all going to get at least a little bit dirty. In both ways.

I open my makeup bag and start to make myself look less dead. I'm not going for anything crazy for the eyes and lips, a small wing and some nude lipstick.

I sip my coffee and scroll through my social media feeds, most of them nostalgic summer memories since school starts this Monday. I groan at the thought and avoid looking at my backpack in the corner. I hear my dad yell from downstairs, "Asa! You need to leave pretty soon or you'll be late, and take out the dogs!" I yell back a response and grab my car keys.

The dogs are waiting outside my room, tails wagging expectantly. I chuckle, and head to the back door to open it for them. My phone dings, and I look down. It's from my best friend Lia, who says "Guess what? Football practice is at the same time as our poster painting ;)" I laugh and reply a snarky comment about her obsession with football guys. She agrees, football players are definitely her type.

I slide the door open again, and the dogs come back in, circling me. I pet them quickly, I need to get to the school. I yell a goodbye to my father and start up my car.

I pull out of my neighborhood, getting lucky with mostly green lights. I keep checking the time, I can't be late, I'm the section leader for the low brass. All the freshman would give me shit and I can't deal with that right now. I finally make it to to school with a couple minutes to spare, but I'm not alone in the parking lot. A jacked up jeep is blasting music, and I can see the football jerseys from here. I roll my eyes, such a stereotypical jock thing to do. I don't recognize a few of them, probably younger players who made Varsity.