Strung (Seaside Prequel)

Chapter Two

Alec

            Watching my brother stroll through the halls as girls literally stared and gaped—well it was like watching a lion strut around its cage and suddenly come to the conclusion that he was going to try and capture every damn female within his reach.

            “Damnnnn.” Demetri’s eyes scanned the halls with interest, “High School girls be looking good.”

            “Keep it in your pants.” I grumbled. Irritated that he wasn’t taking anything serious. But who was I kidding? I was the serious one. Not Demetri—hell he was happy enough for the both of us. If I lost control then who would be his parent?

            Control. I breathed in and out, counted my breaths, and started mentally singing the lyrics to one of my newest songs.

            If all else failed I could go home and organize the fridge.

            Wow. How awesome was I?

            Too bad it was illegal to bring alcohol on school premises—then again I was starting rehab tomorrow, alcohol would probably be frowned upon.

            My fingers itched at my sides as we slowly made our way down the hall to Homeroom.

            I’d gone to school once.

            I really had no idea what I was doing.

            I’d been desperate. When your desperate you find yourself doing lots of things that make you want to ram your fist into the wall.

            Demetri stopped and pulled out his phone to send a text while I kept walking.

            A girl was a few feet ahead of me. Girls. Girls. Girls. Shit. I was so sick and tired of the female sex.

            Her hair was really pretty, it kind of bounced when she walked, and I was kind of irritated that my eyes followed each bounce like I was getting hypnotized.

            Her outfit wasn’t anything that made her stand out. Everything about what she was wearing was sporty and semi plain. But damn that hair.

            I picked up the pace a bit, following the dark blonde as she made her way towards the same room I was going to.

            Suddenly, she let out a squek as she tripped sending her messenger bag flying across the floor.

            On instinct, I ran up to her and knelt down.

            “Crap!” She huffed, her hand reaching out to grab her books just as mine covered it.

            She jerked in response and looked up.

            Mouth agape, her eyes widened just slightly before a pretty blush stained her cheeks.

            I didn’t know what to say. For the first time in my nineteen years of living, I was speechless. I was a writer—it didn’t happen often. But my brain just suddenly stopped working. I tried to pull out words, phrases, sentences, even a smile would have been helpful.

            But those eyes.

            Those deep brown eyes.

            It was the first time in years that I actually felt like someone saw me—not just the rockstar, but me. And I craved it, in a way I never thought I’d crave something.