Look, it's Alex Pettyfer! Honestly guys, I don't know what the hell he's wearing but what does it matter, he looks better without clothes anyway. Screw clothes, I choose freedom!

Oh yeah, Alex is Ryan.

~*~*~*~

This is my first book, so it probably sucks. Just a warning.

I own all of these characters. Blah blah. For obvious reasons, if you feel like stealing any part of this story then please just don't.

There are references in this book that you may or may not understand, depending on your level of awesomeness.

And be warned, chapter eight is a disaster and I hate it with all my heart.

Read on!

~*~*~*~

"I have a very serious question for you," Tara grunted, obviously struggling to pull on whatever item of clothing was next in the pile of possible purchases.

"Hmm, what's that?" I asked, sipping on my boysenberry smoothie. The deal that Tara and I had was; she bought me food, then I went shopping.

She backed out of the fitting room with her ass sticking out.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what I was supposed to be looking at.

"Does my butt look big in this?" She asked, turning her head around to look at me, while wiggling her eyebrows.

To anybody else this would be a strange scene, but Tara doing strange things was more like a daily occurrence.

"Yes," I said, nodding my head.

"Well in that case, these are the jeans that I will buy," she grinned, straightening up and prancing back into the fitting room.

I shook my head. I worried about her.

After purchasing her jeans, Tara decided that she absolutely needed a donut. She doesn't even like donuts.

So I sat at a table in the food court and watched Tara flirt with the server at the donut place. She came back wearing a grin a mile wide with a brown paper bag in her hand.

She placed the paper bag in front of me and plopped into the seat on the opposite side of the table.

"So," I said, pulling the cinnamon doughnut out of the bag. "How was your encounter with the donut man?"

"I think I'm growing on him....like athletes foot."

I almost choked on my mouthful of donut.

"Athletes foot?" I snorted, my eyes watering from breathing in the cinnamon.

"Yeah, that grows doesn't it?" She said, her forehead crinkling in confusion.

"Yeah it grows, it's just not the greatest analogy to use."

"What did I tell you about big words?" She said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Oops," I grinned, crumpling the paper bag in my hand and finishing the last of my smoothie.

"How are you not fat?" She asked, eyeing the paper bag and empty smoothie cup as I threw them into a nearby bin.

"I love food and it loves me back," I replied.

"If I ate as much as you I would look like Tammy," she said, with a disgusted look on her face.

"Tammy?"

"Yeah, you know," she leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "My 1000 pound sister Tammy."

From my standpoint I had a very clear view of her toes. Her very yellow toes.

I mean I'd rather not walk around with my toes looking like Lala the tele tubby, but each to their own.

I rolled my eyes. Of course Tara was worried about her nail polish, rather than the possibility of having broken toes.

"So what did you name your jeep?" Tara asks as we walked across the parking lot.

"Elmo."

"Really?" She replied with a disbelieving look. "Why?"

"Because I'm a child in an oversized body," I said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And the jeep's red, so naturally when you think of red you think of Elmo."

"Nope I'm pretty that's just you," Tara said, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door.

I winced and gently closed the drivers door. That car was practically my baby, I'd saved for at least three years and even then my parents had to chip in a little, so you could say I was kind of protective of it.

~*~*~*~

"You need to get a boyfriend this year," Tara said abruptly as I turned onto her street.

"No I don't."

Who even has time for boyfriends?

"Fine then, give me a reason why not," she said, looking at me intensely.

"because I don't have a use for one."

"I can think of plenty of uses for one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, side eyeing her as we pulled up outside her house.

"Nothing." She dismissed me with her hand. "But hey guess who's recently single?"

I shrugged. 

"Ryan Martinez!" She squealed happily.

Who the hell?

"Don't tell me you don't know who Ryan Martinez is," she said, taking in my blank expression.

"Okay then, I won't tell you. What's so special about him anyway?"

"He's basically the hottest guy who has ever walked on this earth and he has hot friends too. He just broke up with Erika, thank God, she's a total bitch. That relationship was basically doomed from the start. Two years with her, the poor guy is probably psychologically damaged." She looks at me. "I swear to God you've been walking around with your eyes shut, girl. I mean haven't you noticed Ryan Martinez and the amount of girls that trip over their own feet in the hallway because they're watching his ass as he walks? And his eyes, don't even get me started. It's like hypnosis without being hypnotised.

The only thing I really picked up from that spiel was the fact that she used the words psychologically and hypnotised. I was slightly doubtful that she even knew what they meant. She was the one who told me that analogy was a big word.

I shrugged again in response, answering only so she wouldn't keep talking about this guy who was supposedly hotter than a hair straightener.

"Okay, so what makes you think that I stand a chance with him?" I asked skeptically.

"Well for starters he is your neighbour."

"What? No he's not, an elderly couple live next door."

"Hazel," she said slowly, "They moved out two years ago. And two years ago Ryan moved in. You should know, his bedroom window is right across from yours. He sleeps in his boxers, by the way."

"What?" I asked, baffled, "how do you know all this?"

"Because I'm more observant than you, and I have a peeky peek at him through your window when I'm at your house," she said, rolling her eyes.

"So, as I was saying, you do have a chance," she grinned.

"Uh huh," I said unconvinced, "You should probably go because it's-" I looked at the time, "-5 o'clock and you need as much beauty sleep as you can get," I teased.

"You're so mean to me," she muttered as she jumped out of my jeep onto the sidewalk.

"You better pick me up tomorrow," she said, pointing a finger at me, before purposely slamming the door with brutal force and stalking up the path to her house.

I drove to the next street over where my house sat proudly on its well maintained grounds. My parents were so proud of that house, mostly because they built it themselves.

I pulled into the driveway and parked behind moms blue beetle. Her car was so tiny I could probably run it over and squash it with my jeep. My intrusive thoughts wanted me to try.

I quickly hopped out of my jeep, making sure to lock it. Even though we lived in a pretty quiet neighbourhood, I wasn't going to take any chances.

I bounced up the path to our front door. It was still warm enough to wear shorts but there was a cool bite to the air that was never there in summer.

I opened our bright red door and stepped inside, kicking off my shoes messily before closing the door with my hip. I lazily slid on the hardwood floors, in my socks, towards the kitchen where I could hear my mom singing. I could smell the amazing aroma of something delicious that she was cooking.

I walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter, flinging my keys onto the kitchen table.

"Hey mom," I said cautiously, testing to see what kind of a mood she was in.

"Hey honey, how was your shopping trip?" She asked, smiling brightly.

I sighed in relief. "As good as it can get when you're shopping with Tara. You know what she's like," I said.

"I sure do," she chuckled.

"So," she said, removing a saucepan from the stove, "are you ready for the first day of your senior year tomorrow?"

"Uhhh...no, definitely not," I replied with a shake of my head.

Senior.  What a scary word.  That meant I was actually going to have to decide what I wanted to do with my life.

"You'll be fine, look on the bright side at least you're not a freshman starting high school again," she reminded.

I guess that's one way to look at it.

"So, your dad called today," she said looking at me nervously.

I tensed and sat up in my chair.

"Don't call him that," I scowled.

"Fine then Dominic called, he wants you to visit sometime," she said gently.

I rolled my eyes.  How many times do I have to tell her...

"Not gonna happen," I replied, abruptly standing up and turning on my heel, almost crashing into my nine year old sister, Jasmine, on my way upstairs.

Way to ruin my good mood mom.

~*~*~*~

"Do you think I should join a club this year?" Tara asked with wide eyes as we walked through the glass double doors of the school entrance.

"No offence Tar, but the only reason that you haven't joined a club in the past is because you aren't good at any of things the clubs are for," I said, swerving a very lost looking freshie. I definitely didn't envy her.

"Good point," Tara said, a look of realisation crossing her face. She frowned and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. "We should just make our own club," she said, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Is that even allowed?" I questioned.

She snorted very ungracefully. "My parents donate so much money to this school that they practically own it. I could probably get the principal fired if I wanted to. I think I could sort something out."

"Alright then, what kind of club is this go-" I started, only to be cut off by the bell.

"Ugh I have chem," Tara groaned, making a pained face.

"Sucks to be you," I commented, with a grin.  "See you at lunch."

"Yeah, yeah whatever," she mumbled to herself, spinning around and almost decapitating someone with her bag as she swung it onto her shoulder.

I turned away, silently laughing as I trudged towards my art class. It wasn't like I was going to get told off for being late because the teacher was rarely there anyway. Art had always been one of my strong points, I wasn't fantastic a math or biology, or anything to be truthful, but I always had art to fall back on.

A lot of people took art because it was an easy subject and even if you didn't have an artistic bone in your body, you'd still pass. For me it was something that I loved doing.

I entered the classroom, going to the back and sitting in my normal seat. I tried to use my stealth mode but unfortunately Annie Whitely saw me. Now usually I'm quite a patient person, shopping with Tara tends to make you that way, but when I saw Annie all reasoning went out the window. The first thing that irked me about her was her constant gossiping about things I didn't care about, then it was her violent hand gestures where I always felt like there was a chance that I would get slapped in the face. She was also one of those people who liked to get really close to you when she was talking. Like hello, it's called a personal bubble for a reason. It means me in the bubble, by myself, without you. I don't think she understood that concept.

So there I was, cringing as Annie sat next to me.

"Hey Hazel," she screeched.

"Oh my gosh that rhymed!"

No it didn't.

Have I mentioned that Annie was blonde?

God, that was mean.  I have nothing against blondes.  Elle Woods was blonde and she wasn't dumb...but she sorta still was...okay, bad example.

Hazel, stop.

Good idea brain.

"How was your Summer?" She asked, not even waiting for my reply before launching into a very detailed description of her summer.

"Oh em gee! I went to this, like, amazing pool party. This were like three hundred people and guess what? You know Rachel Pierson? Yeah well she fell in the pool! It was super funny and I like laughed my head off and then she like almost drowned and we like had to call an ambulance and then I felt really bad for laughing at her...."

I rolled my eyes.

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

That girl could have a solo conversation. Or is that a monologue...?

"And oh em gee! I got a new puppy he's like so adorable and he's like a chihuahua or something...."

Jesus Christ, how do I shut it up?

Maybe I could just leave without her noticing...

I slowly stood up, trying to move my chair back without it making a sound. Difficulty level seven point three two.  I had almost done it when the classroom door opened.

I slumped in my seat, now the teacher was here. Dammit.

And then I realised that nobody was talking. The art teacher was pretty chill so usually the conversations continued when she arrived. It must have been someone damn special because hell, even Annie shut up.

I glanced at Annie, who was staring into space with a dreamy look in her eyes. She was practically drooling and fluttering her eyelashes moronically like she was actually in need of medical attention.

Then I followed her gaze to the door and I realised what she was looking at.

There was a tall, tanned guy with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes...pretty blue eyes...oh...

Annie rudely elbowed me in the meaty part of my arm, apparently back on planet earth now.

"That's Ryan Martinez," she whispered. Although her whispering was more like a normal persons speaking voice. So naturally he heard her, causing him to smirk, her to blush a shade of red that flew straight from the colour wheel, and me to roll my eyes. Again.

"Thanks for pointing that out," I said, rubbing my arm.

"You're welcome!" She replied, smiling brightly. She obviously didn't understand my sarcasm.

I mentally face palmed and looked towards my sketchbook which I had haphazardly thrown on the desk. I considered actually doing something, but then decided against it. Since it was the first day of the school year, I would probably get truckloads of work to do in every other class, so why make more work for myself, right?

I fished my phone from my pocket and started playing temple run. It's amazing how people come up with the concept for these games. Running down a stone path while being chased by mutant rabid monkeys. Awesome.

Ryan must have sat down at some point because when I looked up again he was sitting a couple of rows in front of me. Annie scurried to sit next to Ryan, almost tripping on her own feet in the process. I cringed, lowering my eyes. Watching people embarrass themselves just makes me feel their embarrassment, especially when they don't realise they're making a fool of themselves.

~*~*~

"I feel so sorry for her," I said to Tara as we walked through the cafeteria.

"Yeah, I remember when that was us," Tara replied, looking on sympathetically at a bewildered looking freshman, who was poking her 'mystery meat' with a plastic fork.

"Brown bagging it since 2012, freshman year," I said, pulling out my brown paper lunch bag, flopping down onto a seat.

"Hell yeah," Tara agreed, waving around her own brown bag and practically throwing herself at the seat across from me, so nobody would steal it.

"A little advice for Chem with Mr Acklefield," she paused to take a bite of her apple. "Wear a spit shield."

"That bad?" I chuckled, shoving some chicken sandwich into my mouth.

"Oh it's worse than bad. It's basically the same as getting sprayed with a hose, except you know, it's not water. And I have the privilege of sitting in the front row. Having to look at him that closely all the time triggers my gag reflexes," she rants, shuddering towards the end. "Actually, maybe you should just take an umbrella."

I smiled amusedly at my crazy, weirdo of a best friend.

"Hey, at least you don't have Annie in any of your classes this year. Guess who the lucky girl is that gets to listen to the oh so exciting tales of Annie Whitely?" I said dramatically.

"Poor girl, poor girl," Tara muttered, reaching across the table to pat my head.

I smacked her hand away and she snickered at me.

Gradually Tara's snickering faded as she stared at something behind me.

"Don't turn around yet," she said continuing to look behind me, "But your smoking hot neighbour is staring very intensely at you."

So what did I do? The exact opposite of what she told not to do of course.

I spun around in my seat to see Ryan trying to burn holes through my head with his laser vision. He stopped staring when he realised I was looking at him. His lips curled into an annoying smirk. It looked like he had perfected it over time, so I figured he was probably a smartass.

Then Tara kicked me in the shin. I spun around and narrowed my eyes at her.

"What was that for?" I hissed, reaching my hand under the table to rub my shin.

"It wasn't me," she replied innocently.

"Who was it then? That guy?" I asked, pointing at the closest person to us, who happened to be sitting about ten feet away.

"Yup."

"Everyone is so violent today," I muttered to myself, shoving the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and chewing slowly.

"Why does nobody sit next to us?" Tara asked suddenly, looking at the empty seats either side of us.

I shrugged. "They probably think that you're contagious."

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but then realised that I was probably right.

"Yeah probably."

~*~*~*~

So that's the first chapter. Please comment, vote, you know the drill. Feel free to correct my horrible grammar.

By the way this book is set somewhere in America, I haven't decided where yet. But I'm not American so if I get something wrong please tell me.

Please comment, vote and follow.

Until next time.