Dainy

It's after eight. I’m in my room staring at the clock stuck to my bathroom door wishing the damn thing would just stop moving.

Reagan is going to be here any minute and I can't seem to stop this swirling feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Nothing today has gone the way I wanted it to. What does that say about the year? Will my entire year be based on today? Am I now jinxed because I am feeling unlucky?

I’ve wasted hours doing absolutely everything to prepare for this talk with Reagan and have accomplished nothing, nix, nada, zilch. I'm still in the same clothes that he saw me with earlier with practically half my wardrobe scattered across the cream carpet, making my room look as if it was ransacked.

Which technically it is, by mwah (me).

My parents came home late afternoon, much later than Aiden and I anticipated. They were surprisingly quiet which I am taking as a great sign, no news is always great in the Hallow mansion.

Once our painful dinner where Aiden and dad ignore each other while talking to momma and I was over, I couldn't get away fast enough.

I needed time to think. I needed time to plan what I was going to say to Reagan so I muted my phone and locked myself in my bedroom, then I started rummaging through my wardrobe in search for the perfect outfit.

I didn't get far, because it was just one of those days where nothing would do. So I ran a bath and took out a black shorts and grey tee which evidently I didn't even put on.

After relaxing in my jet stream bath tub for over an hour my body was like a shriveled prune, but nothing as bad as the dried-out knot in my stomach. Hours wasted and still, I had no idea what to say to Reagan.

Today when I saw his black messy hair and those blue eyes. Gosh, I wanted to just get swallowed into an endless fall. The guy was my wet dream on sticks. But really thick and muscular sticks.

I groan at my dirty mind, I'm so screwed.

Looking around my untidy bedroom I jump off my bed to pick up the discarded clothes from the carpet. Once I have a good size bundle, I throw it into the green colored walk in closet. I'm a little bit of a slob, sue me. Suzanne our housekeeper will sort it out tomorrow.

I do a quick scan around the shaded mixtures of light pastel green decor with yellow cotton bedding and matching blinds. Unlike most girls I’ve never went through the pink phase. The pastels and lime cushions that decorate my bed is just enough color to say ‘girls' room.' I might be head cheerleader but I'm not the sweet valley girl next-door. I'm the girl that will smash your ride with an axe because a baseball bat is just too small dealings for me to get my message across.

Grabbing my tennis shoes from the side of my bed I toss them into the bathroom knowing that Reagan is the complete opposite of me. Where my room only stays clean for the duration of my stay at school, Reagan’s room slash pad stays dirty, well never. I've seen his place twice and both times it was immaculate. One of those times I dropped a chip on his floor and picked it up to throw it away. When I got to the trash bin, I just ate it, because the bin didn't look like it ever had dirt in it and his kitchen was so clean it made my chip feel dirty so I just shoved it into my mouth, it didn't taste all that bad.

I'm mid-way to my bed when I stop what I'm doing. The led-light taking up half of the wall by my bedroom door goes on. I spin around knowing what or more accurately who I am going to find.

My stomach sinks twenty miles per hour when I face him. The guy just won't stop being gorgeous. He’s wearing a dark blue t-shirt stretching across his broad chest and making his hooded blue eyes look dangerous. Or maybe that's just my imagination, but those running shorts that fill out his thick legs are definitely very real. Yum.