I button up my pants and pull my hoodie over top of my head...I'm kind of nervous about taking the SAT, even though I'm not going to college, and it doesn't really matter what I get. I'm still pretty nervous about taking it. I don't want to disappoint my dad. I take a deep breath and sit on my bed, putting on my shoes. There's a knock at my door.

"Come in!"

"Hey, Jay." My father walks in. He is wearing a black and white suit, with a yellow tie in his hand.

"Hey," I say in a low voice.

"Look, I'm sorry about last night," he says. I continue tying my shoes, not looking up at him. "I just want to let you know that I am retracting my payments from the colleges," he says.

"What?" I look up at him wide-eyed.

"I need to let you do this on your own. I have full confidence that you can get into UCLA and any other Ivy League school without my money," he says. I look back at my shoes and continue tying them. "I'll be downstairs when you're ready," he says.

"You're taking me?" I ask before he leaves.

"Yeah, your mom went to lunch with some people from the country club."

"Oh."

He walks out of my room, closing the door behind him. I walk over to my bed and grab my journal; I need to write my entry for this morning. I don't have time to write it here,

I'll write it in the car.

...

As we drive down the street towards the school, I can't help the nervousness I feel stirring in me. My palms are sweaty, and I keep picking at my nails. My mom said there's only going to be a few students in the testing room. But who are those students? Is it, Ashely? Is it Matt? Ryder?

Or worse. All of them.

I look back down at my journal and continue writing.

The unknown is killing me. I should've asked my mother to ask Ms.Moore, who exactly will be there. I think I can tolerate Ashely. I probably could tolerate Matt too. But Ryder, I can't, I don't want to see him, I can't see him. I don't want to walk in and have his dark green eyes meet mine. I don't want to feel his burning gaze as he watches my every move. Will he try to talk to me? Will he make an excuse for not ever calling me? For not checking up on me to see if I was okay? I thought maybe we were getting somewhere. Perhaps this time, he was really going to change. I feel like I have said this too many times to count. I always give him chance after chance. After he does something, he always comes back and says he is going to be different. I always tell myself not to believe him and remember that he can never change because he's incapable of loving and caring for someone other than himself. I mean, look at the way he treats his own girlfriend. According to him, that isn't even his girlfriend, yet he sleeps with her. I mean, who has sex with someone that they're not even with. Maybe the things he says to me he doesn't say to her. Perhaps when they are together, he kisses her and tells her he loves her; he assures her that she's the only person he wants. Maybe they don't just have sex together. Instead, they make love, turning their emotional feelings towards one another into something physical, something special. It just hit me that maybe he's lying to me and not her. Nope, he's not; I mean, he cheated on her. And I doubt that's the first time he has cheated on her. She has to know. Maybe that's what he meant when he said, "there's a lot you don't know about that goes on at that school."

Perhaps the school that I feel is very cliche isn't cliche at all.

Maybe it's the total opposite, maybe behind the standard high school status quo, along with the typical cliche story lies broken people.

Broken people whose real lives and true selves are hidden behind these stereotypical labels.

My dad pulls into the school's parking lot and parks the car. "You're not leaving?" I ask him.

"No," he says.

"Oh." I take my journal and put it into the glove department.

"I'll be here when you finish," he assures me.

"Okay." I open the car door and walk towards the main doors; it feels like the ground is holding onto my legs tighter and tighter as I walk closer to the door. The ground is trying to save me from what lies inside the school. I take a long deep breath and then open the door.

...

Ryder POV

"Fuck!" I release into the girl under me. After about a second, I roll off of her onto the other side of the bed. I get up and push my hair back. I really need to get a haircut soon.

"Well, it took you longer," Ashely says, annoyed.

I roll my eyes and turn back around to her. "What?" I narrow my eyes at her.

"It took you longer, and it wasn't your best." she raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes. I watch as she gets off the bed, still holding the cover against her naked body.

"That doesn't have shit to do with me." I shrug my shoulders and grab my boxers and black jeans off the floor. She really just tried to play with me. Saying I wasn't at my best. She didn't say that shit yesterday when I fucked her so hard, I had her crying, clawing at my back, and when I turned her over, she was grabbing the covers.

"Whatever," she replies.

I look around the floor, trying to find my shirt. She walks around the bed over to where I am. She drops the cover exposing her naked body. I really wish she would put her fucking clothes on. I hate that she's so comfortable with me she feels as if she can just walk around my room fucking naked.

She moves closer to me and lays her hand on my bare chest. Her breasts press against me. I swear I feel a fucking burn where her hand rests. I look at her. What the fuck does she want? I hope she's not about to kiss me. She knows I don't do that shit unless we're fucking.

"You are not performing well." She jokes.

Maybe I am, and the real problem is that I'm not --

Shut the fuck up! She cuts me off. Silencing me before I can scorn her about her past. That doesn't have shit to do with this. You seemed distracted. Does it have anything to do with those mysterious phone calls you've been getting?" she asks.

"That's none of your fucking business." I snap.

"It's that bitch that you cheated on me with. From New York!" I see the anger rise in her grey eyes. She's mad as shit. I don't know why the fuck she's mad. I mean, yeah, I cheated on her, but I've cheated on her before, and she didn't do all this. My phone rings from behind me; her eyes go over to my dresser. "Is that her?" she narrows her eyes.

"How would I know when I'm looking at you?" I press my lips together in anger. She rolls her eyes. The phone hangs up.

She takes a deep breath. "You know what, it's fine. I'm not mad." She says, even though she clearly is still mad, she sits back on my bed. Why the fuck would she do that? She needs to go. I pull my shirt over the top of my head. She grabs her phone and starts to do something on it.

I continue standing, watching her. She moves back, farther on the bed. Fuck no. "I hope you're not getting comfortable?" I growl.

"So you want to just fuck me, and then you want me to leave?"

"Yes." Of course, I don't know what the fuck she thought I wanted to do. I'm not the pillow talking type; I dont have sex with a girl and then hold a conversation.

"Of course you do, Romeo," she says sarcastically and looks back at her phone. I walk around the bed and pick her clothes up off the floor. She burst into laughter. I walk back around the bed. "Monica just said that Caleb was at that party the other night with some girl."

"So?" Why the fuck would I care?

"Sooooo, he wasn't with Jayda. He was there with some other girl."

"Okay?" I still don't get why the fuck that was funny.

She rolls her eyes. "It's just funny because that bitch actually thought someone like him could actually like someone like her. I wouldn't be surprised if she's not in school right now because he got her pregnant and then left her. I mean, talk about embarrassment." She starts to laugh a little bit more. "Everyone saw that coming, we remember how Caleb is,"

I do and that's why I'm happy; I told him she was in New York with me. Now he's not around her, and she's not around him. And whatever the fuck he thought was going to happen with her didn't.

My phone rings again; I look at it, it's Matt. Shit. I need to go.

"Get the fuck out." I toss her clothes at her. She stiffens in anger.

"You know what I have other shit to do anyway—better shit to do than sit here with your ass." She gets off the bed and looks at me. Turn around. The insecure girl says.

I huff and then turn around.

I dont get it; she gets naked to fuck me, so why does she care if I watch her as she dresses. What's the difference?

I text Matt telling him I'm on my way. I look out of the glass window. My mother and another woman walk from out of the house onto the patio.

Shit.

"Hurry up!" I rush Ashely. She slides her pants on; she still has no bra or shirt on. Her eyes go to my mother and the other women with her.

She looks back at me. "I told you not to move into the pool house for this exact reason."

I frown at her. I never told her why I moved out here. I would never tell her we don't have that type of relationship, where we discuss our home life with each other. We just fuck, and that's it.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I would never tell her my darkest secrets or explain to her why I'm so fucked up in the head. She wouldn't understand; no one does. Not even my fucking parents. She throws her shirt on. I walk to the glass door and open it. We both walk out.

My mother has a bright smile on her face. That is until she notices me. I look to the woman that's sitting across from her. It's Jayda's mom. I quickly glance at her then back at my mother.

"Ryder," my mother says, trying to sound happy to see me. She looks behind me at Ashely. "Ashely." she stays in a flat voice.

I suppress the smile I want to show; my mother doesn't like her at all.

"Hi, Ms.Adams!" Ashely says, eagerly trying to impress her as she always does. I roll my eyes. My mother gives her a small smile.

"Ryder, you remember Melissa, Jayda's mom."

"Yeah," I say. I look at her and then quickly look away. I need to get out of here.

"Hello." she simply says. She looks at Ashely. "Hello, Ashely," she says.

"Hello, Ms.King!" Ashely says. If only this woman knew the shit she does to her daughter; I'm sure they wouldn't be exchanging polite greetings.

Hell, if she knew the shit I said to her daughter, she wouldn't greet me either.

If she knew the shit that I knew about her husband, she wouldn't be sitting here at all happy.

There are no bags under her eyes, she looks well-rested, doesn't look like she has been crying, so I know he hasn't told her.

I really need to get the fuck out of here! "Well, we're leaving," I tell my mother. I start to walk away.

"Will you be home for dinner?" My mother asks.

"I don't know."