Tutoring the Bad Boy

I Ran into the Walking God

A/N Kaitlyn above :) but imagine with green eyes

Earlier that day...

*Kaitlyn MacDonald*

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My alarm goes off, interrupting my dream of meeting Brendon Urie. I grab my phone and cancel the alarm, placing it back on my bedside table.

"Dang it," I mutter, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "He was about to sign my forehead. With Sharpie!"

Man, do I hate Mondays.

Kicking off the covers, I shiver as the cold air hits my skin. Hello, Mother Nature? Did you accidentally give North Carolina Minnesota's weather? It's October, and I should not be getting goosebumps in my own bedroom! I jump out of bed and dash across my room, into my heated bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I sigh in relief and move closer to my heat lamp. Whoever invented the heat lamp deserves an award. They just make things so much warmer.
I cuddle up next to it for a few minutes, then decide that a nice hot shower will warm be up even better. I turn on the shower, and after waiting for it to get hot, I get in.

After I'm done, I blow-dry my wavy dark brown hair (head upside down for maximum volume), and walk back into my bedroom to pick an outfit. I decide on a pair of dark skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a purple and black flannel. Pairing the outfit with some black combat boots, I slip my glasses on, grab my backpack and phone and walk down the hallway. As I pass my brother's room, I hear him still getting ready. Smiling to myself, I pound on his door.

"Sam! I won again! You are officially the slowest person I know to get ready in the morning." I laugh, and the other door in the hallway opens. My older brother Jordan pops his head out, and raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, you won, K?" he asks, leaning against the door frame.

"At the beginning of the year, Sam bet me that he could get ready faster than I could, because he thought getting ready for high school was easy. Naturally, I took him up on it. So far, he's only won once, and that was when I slept through my alarm after staying up until 3 writing an English paper. Needless to say, he owes me and one friend a movie and dinner with ice cream at the end of the school year," I explain, and Jordan shakes his head.

"You are something else, K," he says. "Remind me to never make a bet with you."

I grin and go in for a hug, squeezing him tight. He is, after all, practically my twin, even though he's a year older than I am. Jordan hugs me back, then lets go and disappears back into his room.

Skipping down the stairs, I drop my backpack off by the front door before heading into the kitchen. I open the fridge and grab my strawberry smoothie, pouring it into a glass and sitting down at the table. After I'm about halfway done with it, the clock turns 7:15, and Sam comes clomping down the stairs with Jordan in tow. Sam wanders into the pantry to grab some cereal, but Jordan makes a beeline straight for me.

"Can I have some smoothie, K?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll die if I eat anything else. Now go drink your nasty milk." I finish, and slurp down the rest of my smoothie. And in case you're wondering, I'm lactose intolerant. Jordan envies me because he is obsessed with smoothies, but I think that he gets the better end of the bargain; he can eat pizza. Oh sure, I've had pizza with fake cheese, but it's not the same.

The boys sit and eat their breakfast while I put my glass in the dishwasher and sprint upstairs to brush my teeth. I don't put any makeup on because I'm not seeing anyone important today, but mostly because it's Monday and I couldn't care less.