I held the letter Ryan had handed me tightly in my hands, staring at my name scribbled on it.
"What's inside?" I asked, staring at the paper.
"No clue," Ryan answered. "But he insisted that you read it alone. So I'm going to go and grab lunch." He kisssed my forehead and then left.
I stared at the paper, my name staring back up at me.
Blake wanted me to read it alone.
With a sigh I slowly unfolded the paper. He had pretty handwriting.
That was the first word on the letter. Why would he call me Samantha?
Haha, if I know you, you're probably thrown off because I called you Samantha. I just wanted to be different.
I shook my head, letting out a laugh. What a jerk. I took in a deep breath. I couldn't keep reading this in sections. I had to just read the entire thing all at once.
So remember when you came to my house and I was throwing Ryan hints at you, and I promised that I'd talk to Jake for you? Well, I did. And now you're probably wondering what he said. If you want to know, get your ass to my house. I'm not writing it in a note.
My jaw dropped. What an asshole! I crumpled up the note and stormed out of my house, grabbing my keys on the way. I sped to Blake's house and let myself in like Momma J had encouraged me to.
I went back to Blake's room, banging on the door twice before throwing it open.
"Well damn, it took you long enough," he said, with a smirk.
"I hate you."
He laughed. "That was the point."
I flopped down on his couch, muting the TV. "Spill Jameson, I'm not in the mood for your games."
"Aren't you going to ask me how my day's been?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'.
"Well why not?"
"Because you always kill my mood when I ask you that question."
He laughed again. "I just speak the truth."
"When people ask you how your day's been, you're not really supposed to tell them. It's just a formality."
He shrugged. "Well nobody ever accused me of being normal."
"Ain't that the truth?" I picked up a pillow. "Now start talking Jameson."
"Are you threatening me with a pillow?"
He laced his hands behind his head, smiling from ear-to-ear. "I'm having too much fun right now. Look at your face!"
I whipped the pillow at him.
"Alright, alright," he said. "So it went down like this. Jake came over, and we were chillin and I was killing him at COD."
"You were killing Jake?" I asked, skeptically.
"I've gotten real good," he said, with a smirk. "I could take you on."
"Stay on track Jameson."
"So I just start talking about the team, about how you guys took down the State Championship. Then I started talking you up, how pretty and amazing you are."
YOU ARE READING
One of the BoysTeen Fiction
Samantha Evans. A 17-year old girl in her Senior Year of High School. Stereotype says that she should be worrying about what outfit she's going to wear and what boy she's going to date, but Samantha has a different plan. For Samantha, her Senior Yea...