I sat my bag down on the desk chair and pried open the window behind me.
I hate how my room had to face Mason's, I have to be careful what I do in my own room, how stupid is that?!
His window and curtain are closed and the lights are off so I pull off my tight uncomfortable clothes and slip on a white crop top and grey yoga shorts.
I sit down at my desk and flip on the lamp, pulling out my English homework and a pen.
As I write my hair falls over my shoulder and I continuously push it behind me but to no avail, I believe my hair wants to be chopped off. I pull it up into a careless bun and continue the work.
The night air is drifting through the window and hitting me in the back, its fringed but nice. I have a little work out video on the tv and my music up.
"Ok, come on, squat real low, you got this!" The woman on the screen encouraged as I followed her movement. I'm not some bitch who can magically be skinny just by breathing, I have to work for my body so if you have a problem go tell someone who cares.
"Nice ass!" I turn around to look out the window in the direction of the deep voice and pause the video as well as my music. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just enjoying the show." He smirks and gestures to my body looking me up.
"Fuck off Mason, quit being a creep." I self-conscientiously pull my shorts down to cover my ass.
"It's not my fault this videos been playing forever and you keep squatting in front of our window." He waves his hand through both of our windows proving how close they were, he could literally jump and be in my house, how weird is that?!
"Then close your curtain!" I slam the window shut and walk back to play the video.
I look back to the window annoyed, patience was never a virtue I gained. I yanked open the window and let out a deep, frustrated breath.
"Can I help you squat?" He asked with his hands out faking an ass grab, he laughs and leans forward.
"Go fuck a cactus." I spit out bitterly trying to close the window but he won't let me.
"A cactus? Really Avey?" He pouts trying to be cute, I don't think it's physically possible for ass holes to be cute...
"Don't call me that." I'm fed up with his stupid, pervy comments and him in general.
"But Brett can? Oh, I see.... You have a thing for Brett!" He falsely discovers due to some far-fetched misconception that Brett is aloud to call me, 'Avey'.
"He's not aloud to call me that and neither are you." I successfully close the windows and pull the curtains tightly shut.
Why do I, out of anyone, have to live near two, ass hole, bad boy, players?
"Averyyy! Dinners ready!" My mom yells at me from the kitchen down stairs.
I sprint down the hall and slide down the wooden rails of the stair case into the entryway.
As I near the dining room it smells so good, like a fresh green meadow mixed with an Italian restaurant. Mom made her famous pasta salad.
"Avery, Jake, how was school today?" My Mom takes a bite after she asks and looks at us expectantly.
"It was fine, I met a few friends." Jake said picking through the salad he always leaves after he eats the pasta.
He was in the 7th grade and hated this move just as much as I did. He let go of all his friends, but he got daddy genes so he was very handsome, dark brown hair, hazel green eyes and olive skin, he could make new friends easily. Jake was social, it wasn't that hard.
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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...