The ride home was pretty quiet. I made a note to remember the route back to my house. It was nice out, there were a few clouds but not enough for it to be chilly.
"Want to hang out?" He broke the silence turning his head slightly towards me.
"No, I wanna just go home and sleep." I say as we turn down our street.
"At 2 pm? You're a weird one Avery Summers." he laughs slowing the bike down.
We pulled up to the curb in front of my house. I saw a little white note on the door. I grabbed my bag and walked up to see what it said, I heard Brett's footsteps follow me. As I got to the door I saw my mothers flowery handwriting:
Honey, we got the house rekeyed, I went to the hardware story to make you a copy, I'll be home at 5. I called Mrs. Dallas, she said you could stay over until I get back.
"Greatttt..." I sigh turning to see Brett reading the note.
"Well, I guess you are coming over." He beams and turns towards his house. I follow defeated across the lawn to his front door.
He pulls out a key from under the welcome mat, wow very original, and opens the door. He leads me upstairs, the house looks almost identical to mine. The only change is that his room is where my houses office would be, if I wanted to I could look into his room from my office at home, but why would I ever want to.
We sit down on his bed and he pulls open the blinds. His room is pretty dark, the walls a shale grey with band posters everywhere. It was the stereotypical boys bedroom.
He walked over to a mini fridge in the corner of the room by the tv and couch.
"Want a drink?" He opens it to reveal a few different types of beer and about four cans of soda, nice.
"Um, a coke I guess." I shrug and pull off my shoes so I'm just in my socks.
"Really Summers? You're gonna play it safe?" He teases pulling out a bottle of Brooklyn Black.
"How do you even have beer in here? Won't your mom kill you?" I ignored his question.
"As you can see my mom trusts me with alcohol. hah, very bad idea." he opens his and takes a sip, it's really tempting.
"Ugh, fine, contaminate my pure spirit!" I sigh dramatically and laugh placing a hand to my heart faking an injury.
He throws me a bottle and I pop it open walking over to sit on the couch.
"So, Avery, tell me about... you." he takes an unnecessary pause and I chuckle taking a sip of the strong liquid.
"Only if you do the same." I point and him with my hand around the bottle taking a small sip again, it was really good.
"Fine, we can take turns okay?" I keep forgetting how deep his voice is when he's relaxed.
"Me first." I smile, when he's not with his friends he's actually a decent person so I open up a bit.
"Fine." he roll his eyes taking a sip, "ask away."
"Okay, hmm... favorite band?" He gives me a 'really?' look, "what, if you have bad taste in music were not friends.
"Look at the wall stupid," he gestures to his posters, " but probably The Killers." he sees me smiles knowing he answered correctly.
"Ok go." I put my feet up on his armrest, meaning my legs are over his lap.
"Shit, um bra size?" He smirks and I slap his shoulder flinching at his dumb question. "Alright, fine... Full name."
"Do I have to?" I hate my initials, its kinda funny if it were someone else so I could laugh at them but I'm the loser with the worst initials ever. He nods with big expectant eyes, I hate him.
"Avery Scarlett Summers." I sigh, "go ahead laugh, my name spells ass, haha funny yeah."
It's super obvious he's trying not to explode in laughter and I appreciate the shitty effort, but he soon breaks and laughs for about a year, "I'm sorry, no it's not funny..." he lies. "okay, yeah it is." he won't stop laughing.
"Okay if you don't stop I'm gonna get up and leave." I said dryly getting ready to stand up. He grabs my arm choking down his laughter.
"I'm sorry stay," he smiles as a cover to the laugh trapped inside him. "ask go."
"Fine, how many girls have you dated? And have you loved any of them." I ask putting my feet back up and taking another sip and finish the bottle off.
"Oh Avery, I don't think you get it, I don't do 'love'. I guess you can call it dating but I call it fucking." he stated correcting me.
"Wow, right when I though you weren't a total ass." I say sarcastically and he rolls his eyes.
"At least I'm honest," he shrugs it off and turns to me, "my turn, tell me about your life in LA."
"Alright, um... it was nice. Everyone knew me, I was dating a trust fund baby, he was perfect and everyone loved him, and they loved me. It was nice, luxurious and a dream come true, I wasn't as much of a sarcastic prick back in LA." I say smiling at the bittersweet memory.
"Wow, wish I knew you back then." he teased smiling but not really knowing.
"No you don't, I was popular and happy, but I wasn't nice. I wasn't as secluded but I was a hell of a bitch, if you knew me back then, you wouldn't even want to talk to me, people like you weren't really my friends before, I didn't acknowledge people like you existed, it was my perfect little world and everything else was worthless." I regret it, how I was back home. I didn't know how bad I really was until I came here.
"Then why do you talk to me now?" He asked cautiously seeing the tears well up in my eyes that I tried so hard to suppress.
"Because I realized... people like your aren't worthless, and how I used to be so fake, I am one of you." I smile weakly looking to see if I could read him.
"Well I like you, so if anything, you're not a total loser." he smiles leaning into my shoulder and then back away. He gets me to laugh and lighten the mood.
"Can I ask you something?" I sit up straighter. He shrugs and nods, "Why are you an ass around the guys, because honestly, I like you more when you're nice."
"So you like me?" He teases and I slap his shoulder again.
"Not like that you egotistical jerk." I laugh at him feigning pain in his shoulder.
"I don't know, because I'm a bad ass and I can't go around being nice to everyone or the reputation goes down the drain." he shrugs it off like its nothing. "But I will be nice to you if you give me a chance with you to win this game." he bargained smirking at me.
"I'll consider it," I stood up and handed him the empty bottle and walked over to my bag, it was around 4:20 and I saw my mom pull in the driveway across the street.
"I'll see you tomorrow Dallas." I flash a smile behind me and he waves.
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...