When Ebony finally decides to seize every moment, she realizes it may be too late after her crush, Brandon Lockwood's perception of her changes forever.
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Seventeen...
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Someone has been constantly pounding on the door and they're seconds from bursting my eardrums. Even on a Saturday afternoon, people expect me to go out of my way to socialize. They come to me on the day of my wedding to this plush California king bed only to disturb our peace. If they think I'm going to move away from this memory foam, they're going to be knocking for a long time. As a matter of fact, I wonder if they can knock the beat to my favorite song.
"Slow down the bass and start harmonizing," I yell, burrowing deeper into the comforter.
I hear the door swing open, causing me to roll my eyes to infinity. "I was going to be civilized and wait for you to open the door. But since that's too challenging, how about I give you a hand." Brandon smirks, peaking underneath the covers to make direct eye contact.
"Touch me, and I'll scream." I sneer.
I don't know if he just accepted the challenge, but that unsettling grin is starting to freak me out. From personal experience it's entirely too early in the day to be dealing with clowns. I politely shove his face out of my space. Then, I wrap myself further between the covers, wearing a dreary smile. Sadly, I can't fall asleep and I've practically made a cocoon on this mattress. I don't understand if it's my depression kicking in like an Ibuprofen or the fact that there's a boy in the room.
As I think about everything that happened last night, Brandon snatches the comforter off the mattress. I give him the deadliest glare anyone can form without their eyeballs melting. I throw a pillow at his head, but the All-Star asshole expertly catches it.
I wonder if Brandon wants to catch these hands, too, because ever since he came in, all I've seen is nothing but fighting gestures.
"You're so dead," I yell. "I hope your parents picked out your tombstone because I'm about to send you to your final resting place."
"You know, Ebony, you don't always have to choose violence," Brandon says calmly, shaking his head in disappointment.
My jaw unhinges and drops on the mattress in complete astonishment. There's no way in hell this is the same guy that punched Luke in the throat. He flipped out and beat up the bathroom for no logical reason. It's not like the walls can hit him back, so not only is he guilty of violence but assault, too. As this room is my witness, I will testify against this monster and bring him down. No one wakes me up and plays innocent.
"Well, I can honestly say I've never had to break down a door to meet one of your girlfriends before." A low and resonant voice announces from the door.
"I'm more interested in the halo over our son's head." Brandon's mother, Evelyn, says, pointing at him. "You better grab it before it sets the building on fire."
"Meet my parents," Brandon hides a smile. "William and Evelyn Lockwood. You already met my mom."
Thanks to their handsome son, I'm officially the lunatic directly down the hall. A quick sprint to the kitchen, where all the sharp utensils and knives are located, so that must be comforting for them. To make matters even worse the only buffer between us is leaning against the wall, laughing at my expense.
