I hate moving.
The quaint little town of Who-gives-a-shit is coming into the horizon. Large two-story houses that all look the same, and an abundance of over-dramatic stereotypes, who wouldn't love it?
We lived in LA, with all the beautiful lights, eccentric people and glorious sun, surf and sand.I left it all, gorgeous friends, my perfect life and my sex-God boyfriend just so my mom can have a fresh start with me and my brother in tow.
Northern California has none of that, well it's so far north that I am basically living in Oregon and so boring that I don't really care to know.
We pull into a two-story house that looks identical to every other on the block except for the small off-set in the color.
"This is gonna suck ass," I grumble grabbing a box from the back of the moving van. A few of the 'spunky new neighbors' have come out to greet my mother with warm smiles and and friendly hugs.
One of the women's sons walks out of the house adjacent to mine. A cocky smile plastered on his face as his eyes scan my body, I roll my eyes and flipped him off. "Yeah... totally gonna suck ass." I sigh.
"Avery Scarlett Summers, watch your language!" My mom yells at me, flailing her arms like bird, amusing.
"Jake is twelve; I think he knows what an ass is." I say, hoping my attempt to piss her off is successful. She huffs loudly and stomps around.
I'm holding back some serious laughter right now.
"Go to you room!" She yells quietly, trying not to let the neighbors hear.
"Love to." I scoff and grab a few more of my boxes before climbing upstairs away from the crowd forming. I pull my sunglasses up on my head.
I hate to admit it but the house is pretty amazing: high vaulted ceilings and super spacious. As I turn to go down the upstairs hallway I realize mine is the only bedroom up here. Fnally some privacy. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling window is a balcony over looking a pool. Damn, this place is cool. A nice house in a shitty city.
I lie down on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the whole room so far, and pull out my speakers from the box. I plug in my phone and blast The 1975s.
"Thanks Mrs. Cordelia!" I sweetly call after her as she rounds the corner. I grunt, rolling my eyes as I bring in another fucking casserole and set it down on the dinning room table.
Mom and Jake have gone to go buy some furniture for the backyard, they want to have a pool party with the neighbors after everything is settled in.
I go back out to the front porch and await more food we probably won't eat. I put my headphones in, cranking them up to full blast and sit back against the house. It's pretty sunny today and it's nice and warm so I close my eyes and relax.
"Hello." Says a muffled voice I faintly hear over my music. I flicker my eyes open,almost sleeping, oops. I pull out an ear bud and raise my eyelids looking to see who it was.
"Hey." A cocky grin grows on the face of the boy next door. He's holding a bowl of salad that he sets down on the porch before sitting too, "I'm Mason Reed, and you are?"
"Not interested." A snarky smile crawls across my face.
He looks dumbfounded. He recovers quickly, "Well, a pretty face like that needs a name. Every guy in town is already talking about the hot brunette in town." He winks at me, running his hand through his blonde hair and I laugh at his attempts to be slick. Such amateurs.
YOU ARE READING
He Doesn't Do "Love"Teen Fiction
Bad boys don't do "love" and Brett Adam Dallas isn't an exception. His name literally spells B.A.D. He uses girls and throw them out like a used tissue. He's a party-going, no-f*ck-giving, straight-up bad boy. Everything about his god-like looks and...