Meet Scott

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"Scott Wellington! You get your cute butt down here right now," I holler

"Scott Wellington! You get your cute butt down here right now," I holler. I shield my eyes from the shining sun with my hands as I look up to see him standing on my roof. "I mean it!"

"Come on up Annabelle, it's great out here."

"Why don't you just stand on the balcony like a regular person, must you really have to climb all the way out there?"

I've known Scott for 16 days, 11 hours, and 40 minutes, but I already figure out that he is stubborn, if anything else. Stubborn, egotistical, strong-willed, charming, sweet, and persistent. That's Scott Wellington for you.

"Come up here now Annabelle, or I'll jump, I mean it," he argues.

"If I fall, it's on your head," I groan giving in, although I was already climbing up the fence to meet him.

I was forced to meet him on the eighth of December. My dad just moved us to a small town call Livingsburg, yes, it's a real place, where he will be starting yet another branch to his company with Thomas Wellington, also known as Scott's father. My dad thought it was a good idea to have dinner with just Mr. Wellington and his son, who was the same age as me. Since I'll be starting at Scott's high school for the second semester, it was a marvelous idea to have us meet over some Italian food. It was a marvelous idea, if you like eating with three guys who can't stop talking about Monday night football and the model of Mercedes Benz. 

Scott was good looking, for someone who lives in small town. He was tall, six feet three inches the least. For dinner that night, he wore a nice navy blue polo shirt with straight leg jeans and sneakers. He had a buzz cut kind of hair that makes me think he wants to join the military or the navy or something. He was muscular and had icy blue eyes with a hint of gray. He looked at me four times throughout our main entrée and I smiled politely, not knowing what else to do but pick at my seafood linguini. I am not usually the quiet one at dinner, mostly because I've been trained for these business arrangements since I was ten when my mother left for her assistant and left me with my father. This time, it was different, he never made me move before, especially halfway through senior year and weeks before my long time crush was going to ask me to winter formal, or so I fantasized. Looking at Scott that night, I just wanted to go home and never see his face again. In fact, his grin makes me sick.

I already knew what kind of guy Scott was, the popular guy that everyone knew around town. The good guy that every mother wants their daughter to date, the high school hottie who wins prom king, and the rich boy who flirts with anything that moves. So, I was pretty judgmental that night, but I was in a bad mood, don't hate. I didn't expect him to show me around or accompany me to my classes or anything. I surely didn't expect him to show up at my door four days later.

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