I am fully, one hundred percent ready for you to come at me with pitch forks. I totally deserve it, honestly I've been crap at updating. I'm really sorry for that, it just seems like 24 hours in a day just aren't enough anymore. Let's hold out for June, school ends pretty quickly and I'm going on quite a lot of road trips which will give me some time to write. But I'm also taking an AP class which will give me a lot and I mean a lot of summer reading to keep me busy. (It's AP American History) But onto the chapter, yet again
I'm not happy with it. I haven't been writing to my best ability for this entire book, and I'm very sorry for that. But hey, a crap update it better than no update.
I love all of you, and remember, you're always worth life.
So, before I start rambling again, here's the chapter.
P.S. FIND THE REFERENCE TO I'M BEING ADOPTED BY... ONE DIRECTION AND I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.
Essays are stupid; I do not care how Lennie relates to a dog in Of Mice and Men, I do not care how big my margins are and how small my text is in times new roman font. I do not care if my spacing's are not double spaces, who ever came up with all of these requirements for one measly essay really needs to reevaluate their life choices.
Sighing, I closed my laptop and curled the blanket around me tighter; I was still on edge from this morning. I planned to go back to sleep, but after a failed 30 minutes, I opened up my backpack and decided it would be a good idea to get started on the rough draft of my essay due next week. As anyone could tell, it wasn't working out too well.
I grabbed my phone and shoved the computer off of my lap and next to my leg, my phone vibrated in my hand as it signaled I received a text:
Cute pajamas by the way (:
P.s. Before you freak out, your mother gave me your phone number.
I automatically knew who it was; it was the neighbor boy who just so happened to have shown up in my room today. Tapping out a reply, I sent:
My own mother gave out my phone number to a boy whom I don't even know his name
It was awhile before he replied.
****
When it was finally a sane hour to be awake and moving, I slipped out of bed and walked out of my room, both of my mom and dad were at work. They worked at some company who did something that I had no idea what it was.
Something that sucks about the weekend and having no friends is you virtually have nothing to do. Especially when you don't have any siblings to hang out with anymore, but having the house to yourself can be great. Like no one can judge me on how hard I jam to Demi Lovato's Really Don't Care. The song was incredibly catchy; personally, I think she's one of the most underrated voices in the industry.
I pulled my phone out of my robe pocket and connected over Bluetooth to my house's speakers. I immediately started blasting my morning mix tape. It was fire, or whatever people call it these days. It was filled with Fifth Harmony, Demi, Little Mix, and even a little bit of One Direction. Top Down By Fifth Harmony came on and the beat started vibrating through the house. I remember once that I turned up the bass on the stereo system so hard that a priceless vase that my mother bough ended up on the ground after a beat drop in Neon Lights.
My mood immediately lightened up as the song played, I skipped down the stairs and landed on the balls of my feet. I felt like I was back to my old performing days, when I was on top of the world but in one of my lowest points.
"COME AND LET ME TAKE YOU FOR A RIDE
I AIN'T GOT A LOT OF MONEY BUT I GOT A LOT OF STYLE"
Top Down was by far one of my favorite songs on their album, you just couldn't help but not want to jam your heart out to it. I felt like a proper idiot for sitting here in my entryway jamming out to music, but in this moment, I really didn't care at all. Dancing my way into the kitchen, the song changed. I froze; this was my song. I proceeded to screech the lyrics at the top of my lungs, my throat was beginning to become sore, but I really didn't care. The chorus kicked in and I couldn't help but scream out the lyrics:
"GIVE IT TO ME I'M WORTH IT."
The song was completely and 100% sexual, but have you seen them sing this live? It basically has guy's confirming their sexuality as straight or girls confused by their own. I proceeded to sing as I was making my breakfast even though it was lunchtime; I grabbed the pan underneath the cupboards and set it on the stovetop.
Turning the notch up to a six and hearing the gas fire start underneath the pan; I buttered it and cracked an egg. The song proceeded to carry on, as well as my dance moves slowly becoming more and more interesting. If anyone saw me I'm sure that they'd send me to a mental asylum.
Over the sound of the bass thumping and the egg frying, I could hardly make out the ring of the home phone. Frozen, I looked around; my hair whipped me in the face as I turned around. I had absolutely no idea where the phone was. Usually, mom was home to answer it, but she was at work and dad was also. I turned the music off and attempted to listen to the rings. It sounded like it was coming from underneath the couch, but how on earth would the phone even get there?
I scrambled to get to the couch in time before the voicemail went off, only to find Max, my 75-pound dog, sleeping sprawled out on the couch. I sighed as I could hear mom's voice come through the couch.
"Hey Taylor, it's mom here. I just wanted to let you know that dad and I got called in for a business trip, we won't be coming home tonight or tomorrow. I trust you not to throw any parties, and for that reason, I already called over Jake, the boy next door, to come over and to watch you. And this isn't him babysitting you."
She hung up the phone, the beep ran though my ears right before I heard the knock on the door. I could let one of two things happen, ignore the door until he gets lazy enough and leave, or answer the door with a cheery face and invite him inside like he didn't see me in my pajamas this morning. I heard the knock on the door again; this time I could hear his knuckles slamming against the door. The gentle tap of a foot against the porch was telling me he was getting impatient.
"Coming!" I heard myself callout, before I fully realized what I was doing. I sighed and scraped my hair onto the top of my head and dusted my shirt off. I walked the few feet to the door and yanked it open and leaned against the cold, metal door.
"So why do you need a babysitter exactly?" He said stepping into my house without even a peep escaping me. He let out a low whistle as he took in my humble abode, the dark wood floors, the white walls filled with paintings, really my house looked a lot more expensive than it really was.
"I don't need a babysitter, I'm 17 years old." My voice was snarky and uninviting, at least I hoped it to be. I usually sounded like a young puppy when I tried to be scary. He simply smirked and slipped off his tennis shoes. He strode his way into the kitchen like he lived here his entire life.
"Why are you still in your pajamas? Haven't you been up for awhile? And what's that burning smell?"
"My eggs!" I squeaked out as I dashed into the kitchen, managing in the process to body slam him into the wall, he lost his footing before taking quite the tumble to the floor.
"Um, ouch?"
I smiled as I shook the burnt egg into the garbage.
"Maybe the floor wanted a hug, Jake."