"You know what? I can't handle this anymore. You guys are just---I don't know. You are horrible. I'm moving out." I said, interrupting my parent's continuous arguing.
No, my daily routine isn't: wake up, eat, change, go to school, sleep. It's: no sleep, partially eat, go to school and be the only audience in the house to watch my mother and father constantly scream at the top of their lungs to one another.
I ran up the black-wood stairs and into my room. I collapsed on my messy Queen-sized bed and dove my head nose-first into a pillow.
"Why me?" I asked myself, but I couldn't really hear it taking in the fact that the sound was blocked out by my parent's yelling and my sobbing.
I couldn't help but to ask that question: Why me?
Bridget Carrs: Straight A Student, Daughter of the CEO of the number one computer brand in the world; Rockaway Tec, voted Miss Teen Salt Lake City and lastly, just a normal girl.
I couldn't say I was regular because I wasn't-- having your dad being one of the richest men on this dear planet is not "regular".
Everything didn't fit the picture. Everyone would think that the CEO of Rockaway would have a happy family that would be found on the front flap of a brochure: picture perfect-- but no.
This house is like hell.
I lifted myself up from the bed and walked clumsily to my laptop desk--Rockaway, of course.
I logged on to my iGoogle and glanced at some Yo Mama jokes from that little widget.
I clicked on the search bar with my purple cursor and typed in: "Salt Lake City Apartments".
I clicked "I'm Feeling Lucky" even though I really wasn't and looked at the site curiously.
I clicked on "For Rent" then "Rent Low To High" and clicked on the cheapest thing there.
Three-hundred and fifty dollars a month.
I could have clicked on Caesars Palace if I wanted to, taking in how much money I have, but I didn't, with the paparazzi everywhere nowadays stalking my father, I had to go as low-profile as I could get.
It's not like I don't love my parents. I do. I really do.
It was 20 minutes away from where I lived, so it wasn't very far and I could visit my parents anytime they need me to, so it was a good deal.
No one makes a decision just like that. But I had to. For me, there was no choice.
I clicked on "Email This Property" and typed in all of what it asked for.
Submit? Submit.
I bit my lip as soon as I put pressure down on the button.
As soon as the words: "Thank you for submitting this request, we'll get back to you ASAP!" showed up, my heart became a storm and I felt like regretting it all--but not thoroughly, a part of me celebrated and screamed, "Finally! Finally you did the right thing."
I jumped back in my seat as the door flung open.
I let out a small gasp and bit the inside of my lip once I saw who it was.
"You sca--" I started. Adult. "You startled me."
"Indeed I did. I need to scare you out of this. What are you thinking, Bridge?" my mother asked.
"That this house is practically like murdering myself--a slow and painful journey." I said, rolling my eyes, toying with a led pencil that was on my desk.
My mother closed her eyes for a bit, which gave her a different side since her jade green eyes were a big part of her: they popped her bland hair color: a rusty-brown color that she loves and will never change.
"Bridge. You know your dad and I love each other deep down but all the stress with him working 24/7 and never having time with me or his child just gets me mad-- and it gets him mad too. We don't mean to be like this. You're 17. You have to understand, honey." she said.
"Understand? Understand, huh? I can't understand why we can't work things out. I am old enough to move out-- I literally just finished school. With dad's money I can get into any school I want and I will keep everything so low profile that no one will remember that dad has a daughter." I pleaded, letting go of the pencil, hands now on both of my knees.
"Well...you have to talk about that with your father." she said.
"Yeah, like I'll have time. Where's he going to today? New Brunswick?" I said, sarcasm practically sending rays out of my skin.
"New York. You know what? You are just your own individual. I can't handle you anymore. You're old enough to live your own life. I could tell that you don't need us anymore. Bridget? Forget everything. When you come back home I just want you to know that we'll always be here. Let's see if you can manage the urban jungle." she said, with such fierceness in her voice that it gave me goosebumps.
She slammed the door, not too hard, but hard, and left.
I cupped my face with my hands and rubbed my temples. I can totally do this.
I flicked off the light switch and rolled onto my bed, covering myself with a heated comforter.
-♥♥♥-
Eight days since. Eight days since I bought the apartment and I'm moving into it.
My father approved of it when I had told him all my thoughts, but he isn't here to help me move out, he's still in New York at a business meeting.
My mother wasn't here either. She was planted on the floor at Yoga For Life classes, just an excuse for her not to see me move out or be a part of it.
I took out the last item in my room: my vanity, and took it down stairs to put in the moving truck.
"This is...a marvelous house!" the mover said, Texan accent kicking in.
"Well, you know...my dad and all." I said.
"Who's your dad?" he asked, clueless.
I felt like slapping my forehead.
"Roy Carrs? CEO of Rockaway?" I said.
His eyes bulged out and he smirked in excitement.
"Carrs? Oh my goodness! I'm moving a Carrs!" he said, delighted.
Then it hit me. I told him.
"I-I-I'm just kidding. I just have the last name Carrs and I like to...fool people. I have a big house because my parents, um...won the lottery." I said.
He looked at me, slowly nodding.
I added a small laugh.
"So let's get 'er done. Is that it?" he asked, sweeping his hands together.
"Yup!" I said, popping the 'p'.
I got into the passenger seat and buckled up.
The truck was huge--and the items filled it up right to the top. That's how you know you have a huge bedroom.
He revved up the engine and my heart started to quicken it's pace.
"You want anything to eat? I'm hungry! There's a Burger King right on Sheppard Avenue. I'll pay for you, you don't know how starving I am right now." he said, eyes still on the road.
"Yeah, sure. I'd like that." I agreed.
I was hungry but not too hungry. I was hungry, but my sixth sense wasn't. My sixth sense was full of overwhelming excitement and over the mark nervousness.
He pulled into a Burger King drive through.
He ordered two whoppers and a extra large Dr. Pepper, while I ordered a regular burger without tomatoes and a medium sprite.
"That's all?" the cashier asked through the intercom.
“Yes, ma'am.” he answered.
I rested my hands on the window sill and waited as he gave me my food.
I put it in my hand bag, I didn't want to eat it now.
I saw him look at me in the corner of my eye.
"You look nervous. You look almost...scared. You sure you alright, girlie?" he asked, slurping on his Dr. Pepper.
"Yeah, I'm good." I lied, slowly nodding.
"I'm going to give you some advice, so listen close." he said.
It sounded like something that would be in the movies. It's all set, and the stupid truck driver is the one who gives me the smartest crap in the world and I realize that in the end and find my love and blah blah blah.
"Mmm, hmm." I said.
"Never, I say never, do anything that you don't want to do because if you do something that you don't like and you say something that something isn't cool and you don't feel right because at the end of it all when push comes to shove everything isn't teedle-ee-doo." he said.
I slowly nodded. What? That didn't make sense.
"Ye-eah." I said.
He wiped his eyes. Tears?
"And that's from the heart, Bernadette." he said.
"Thanks? And it's Bridget." I said.
"Like that girl from that Disney show with the cute lil' baby with the boy name? That show just tickles me." he said, smiling.
Bridget Mendler?
"Ya." I said.
-♥♥♥-
"We're here." he said, not believing himself.
I looked at the apartment in disgust.
It was an ugly grey color-- it was navy blue-like, but still grey.
The walls looked like stucco, but I could tell it wasn't, probably just-- well, I don't really know.
Vandalism was caked onto it.
"Love", "Peace, "Hate", "Suicide", "Pride" and "Cry" were the words that were spray painted on, all in the USA colors: red, white and blue.
Under each word, names were listed.
People who have gone through those words?
I shrugged it off.
No hate. This is where I live now.
"Your parents won the lottery and they put you in this?" he asked.
"They don't know where I live. They think I'm going to some mansion. They put loads on my credit card to pay the rent and for food and crap." I answered.
"And crap?" he mumbled to himself as if I was a snotty bitch.
"Anyways, you go upstairs and look around, I'll be there soon to bring up some stuff." he said.
I nodded at him and opened the doors.
The inside was way better than the out.
It was like any other regular apartment. It smelled of Pine Sol and mint, a delightful smell.
I clicked the UP button on the elevator and pressed: 5.
It took me to the highest floor. The elevator glided smoothly and played soft, techno elevator music.
I walked out the door when I heard the off-beat 'DING'.
I walked to 5E slowly, a smile gradually taking half of my face up.
I took the keys that the owners, Sam and Lilliana, gave me, put it in the hole and shook it.
I opened the door, not sure of what I would see because I didn't want to have an orientation.
Around me stood a normal apartment building without furniture.
It smelled of men’s deodorant and Mr. Clean with Febreze.
I smiled and walked in some more.
"Hello, Chez Bridget!" I said, excitedly.
"SHIT!" a voice exclaimed, deep inside the apartment.
I cocked my eyebrows and walked fast, tracing to where I heard the sound.
A boy's back faced me.
From what I could see was that he had brown hair, messy, but short, and he was looking around 5"8.
He turned around and said, "Hey! Don't kill me! Or sexually harass me!"
I cocked my eyebrows again.
It took me a couple of moments to realize who I was looking at.
Ice-crystal blue eyes, that signature half-smirk, pretty boy wink and girly voice?
It was, excuse me while I barf, teen pop sensation, Blake Woods.
"Oh my gosh, it's...you." I said, mouth hanging ipen as if someone dropped a boulder in there.
"Oh god, you're a fan. I knew I should have brought a body guard..." he said, eyes wide.
"No! I'm so not a fan." I said.
"So why are you here?" he asked, clueless.
"Um...why are you here? This is my apartment if you haven’t notice." I said, rolling my eyes.
"Yours? Hell no, this is my place. Where did this 'you' part come from?" he asked.
"Yours? I bought this place." I said, pointing to myself.
"Mine. I bought this place." he said.
"Wait-- what? Are you telling me we both bought this place?" I asked.
"Unless you're lying. Which you probably are." he said while shaking his head.
I felt like smacking him in his pretty-boy face.
I took the keys from my pocket and shook it in front of his face.
"The keys! Thee est le keys to thou's place!" I yelled.
"Don't go all Shakespeare on me, blondie." he said.
"I'm a brunette." I said.
"And I care why?" he asked.
Tick tick boom, bitch. You are setting me off.
"Do you have any papers that prove you live here?" I asked.
"Um, duh." he said.
I waited.
He just stood there.
"Show it to me!" I said, gesturing for him to go.
"Oh. Oh! Alright." he said, then left.
A couple of seconds later he came back with 3 papers in his hands.
"Here!" he said, dropping them in my hands.
I looked at them closely.
They all seemed precisely legit.
"Okay...so you do live here." I said, biting the inside of my lip.
"Just moved in yesterday! I didn't know crazy fans would know this is where I'm lodging! I try to keep low-key and some stupid fan goes all wacko with me." he said, as if I wasn't there.
"I don't like your singing, for the last time! You sing like a girl, you're hair looks like it got stuck in a vacuum, and you're a jerk!" I said.
He looked at me blankly.
"You sing like a girl." he said, as if it was a insult.
"That's because I am!" I said.
"Just get out." he said.
"You want papers? I'll give you papers, Blakerella!" I said.
I tossed through my bag in search for my documents and invoices.
I pulled them out and gave it to him, hitting him in the face.
"Thanks. That felt nice." he said, sarcastically.
He examined the papers closely.
"You do...live...here." he said.
"Yeah, I think we got that down!" I said, annoyed.
"Dude, um, find your inner self. Breathe, dude, BREATHE." he said, which got me even more annoyed.
"I'll breathe when I find out why I'm living with a stuck-up star!" I said.
"That's rude, chica." he said.
"Haha. Your humour flatters me." I said, fake smiling.
"Why do you live here anyways. You are supposed to be living in a mansion full of senoritas." I said
"Yeah! Because when I live there, in a hu-uge mansion absolutely NO fans will know where I live and rape me!" he said.
"Yeah, people want to rape you." I said, sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes.
"Babes, you don't know how much people want to touch this." he said, pointing at his chest. "I live here because I want nobody to know where I live."
"Same here." I said, tapping my fingers on the kitchen table.
"Same here? You're famous for exactly what? Foot modeling?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm the daughter of the CEO of Rockaway Tec." I said.
"Oh my god. Like, the TecPad? The Rock? The TecPhone?" he asked.
"Yeah, that." I said.
"Wow! That's one gene that didn't run through the family stream: talent." he said.
"Oh thanks." I said, sarcastically.
He pursed his lips.
"So..." he said. "What are we going to do about this?"
"We have to call Lilliana and Sam!" I said.
"Yeah. No. When they gave me an orientation they said they were leaving to Venezuela...right after the orientation." he said.
"Do you know their Venezuelan number?!" I said.
"How am I supposed to know their Venezuelan number?" he said.
I laughed and he did too.
"Ew, we're bonding." he said.
"Well we are living together for a while." I said.
"Well, you know how I'm a pop star? Well, my tour starts in two months and I have studio time every Saturday. So, a while, then not, then a while." he said.
I smiled.
"Awesome." I said.
He laughed.
"Talking about living together, where exactly is the room?" I asked.
"I'll lead the way, mademoiselle!" he said.
I synchronized with his steps as he lead me to the room.
He opened the door, which looked like it was made of oak wood and I was greeted to not a normal teenage boy's room.
Inside the room, gadgets greeted me.
The wall was painted a dark blue. Planted on the wall was a 40 inch flat screen.
His vanity was small, but overloaded with stuff.
Lotion, cologne, paper...hair gel.
In a basket on his vanity laid a whole bunch of Rockaway products that he listed earlier. Wow, he's a fan.
He had a pile of laundry in a white hamper in the corner.
"You do laundry? Good boy." I said.
He looked at me.
"Yeah, I'm the full package. Hygienic and hot. Look out." he said.
I rolled my eyes.
His bed was made up neatly. Hygienic, yes. Hot? Eh.
Hot to my friends and other peop--wait.
His bed.
One bed.
My bed.
Didn't bring one, said it was included.
One bed.
Oh no.
"Do you have another bed?" I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"Why would I bring one? It's included. FREE!" he said. "Oh. I see where you're going with this."
"Yeah." I said.
"One bed. Two people. Night. Alone." he said.
I stared at him disapprovingly.
"I'm kidding, I don't like you." he said.
"Thanks!" I said.
"We could do it. I'll have the right side and you can have the left. We'll block it by pillows. It is a King size." he said.
"I guess." I said.
"Be happy you're sleeping with America's number one celebrity." he said.
I slanted my eyes while looking at him and cocked my eyebrows.
These are going to be long nights.
Written By: Elle! ;D
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