That New Girl [ On Hold, Rewriting ]

[ 1 ]

[ dedicated to ToastedBagels ]

[ Cassandra's POV ]

"We're here!" My father announced from behind the wheel. I looked up from my book and stared out the window. An involuntary gasp left my mouth.

"Beautiful isn't it, Cass?" I heard my mother say.

"Yeah," I breathed. "It is."

I was mesmerised. The sight before me was amazing. We were parked in a driveway that was connected to a house.

But not just any house, my new house.

It was made of timber that was painted white, with a wraparound porch. The windows were large and clear, and behind the building, I could see the ocean.

My backyard was the ocean.

All my life I had always wanted to live in a beach house, and I guess my wish had been granted.

"Alright!" My father clapped his hands together. "It's time to start unpacking!"

Two hours later, I was settled nicely on my bed in my new room with my favourite book and a jar of cookies. Just as I was about to crack open the spine and find where I last left off, my door was thrown open and in came my mother looking as excited as ever.

"Get up and put some nice clothes on Cass," she said, oblivious to the fact that I was staring daggers at her for interrupting my precious reading time. "The neighbours invited us to dinner!"

She wandered over to my wardrobe and pulled out a pale, pink blouse.

"Hm," My mother muttered. "This would look nice with some heels I have in one of the boxes."

Immediately, I stopped glaring and jumped off my bed.

"No mum! It's okay, I can pick my own clothes, now go back to your room and find something nice to wear, alright?"

She looked at me and smiled. "Whatever you say honey."

The minute she left, and I heard the door close behind her with a click, I exhaled.

That was close.

I had learnt from past experience to not trust my mum to pick out my outfits for events. It usually ended up with me looking like a Barbie doll.

Not a good look.

I glanced back at my wardrobe and frowned. What the heck would I wear?

I walked over to my open window and stuck my head outside. The wind whipped at my face and I shivered. How did I not notice that cold draft in my room before?

Pulling my head back inside, I closed the window firmly.

Since it was fairly chilly, I settled on some pale blue jeans and a striped t-shirt. I dug around until I located my favourite knitted sweater. I shrugged it on while walking into my en suite to apply some make-up.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, mum was pounding at my door, telling me to hurry up.

"Mum, I'm here." I said wearily, opening the door to let her in.

She strode through, took in my appearance and nodded. "Okay, let's go over now."

I trailed behind her as we walked to the front door, twirling my light brown hair around my finger. Dad was already standing on the threshold, waiting for us.

"I wonder what'll be for dinner!" Mum said excitedly. She was a major food-lover, a bit like me.

"Who are our neighbours?" I asked.

"The Ryders. They have a son, I heard." My mother answered, as we started toward the house next door.

"How old is the son?" I asked cautiously.

"I'm not sure actually," Mum frowned. "I forgot to ask Marge." I assumed Marge must have been Mrs. Ryder.

We climbed up the front porch and dad knocked on the door loudly.

There was some shuffling from inside the house, a few clicks and then the door opened to reveal a short, tanned woman who must have been Mrs. Ryder.

"Hello Taylor!" She embraced my mother in a hug, as if they both were best friends or something, even though they had only just met less than two hours ago. My mum was extremely fast at making friends.

Mrs Ryder pulled back first and addressed my father. "Welcome Craig!" She smiled warmly.

"Thank you...uh Marge?" Dad grinned sheepishly. He always had a hard time remembering names.

Finally, Mrs. Ryder turned to me. "Ah, Cassandra!" She smiled again. "It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ryder." I answered politely.

"Please, call me Marge." She ushered us into her house, and told my parents to make themselves at home in her living room. I made to follow them, but Marge stopped me halfway by placing a tanned hand on my arm.

"Now, Cassandra, I'm not sure if you've heard, but I have a son, and he's about your age. In fact, I think he's in your year." She frowned. "You're a senior, aren't you?"

I nodded, and she continued. I had no idea where this was leading.

"Well, I thought it'd be a good idea if you met him, and maybe talk? He's been quite antisocial lately, and I'm not sure why." Marge smiled. "Would you mind calling him down for dinner?"

"Uh, ok, I'll do that." I flashed her a smile and started up the stairs behind me.

"It's the first door on the left!" She called after my retreating figure.

When I reached the second floor, I followed Marge's instructions and found myself staring at a closed door that was painted a navy blue.

I raised my fist and knocked once.

"Come in, mum." Said a deep, husky voice from inside.

I stifled a giggle and pushed the door open carefully.

"I'm not your-" My sentence was cut short as I looked at the sight before me. A boy my age was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms behind his head. He was shirtless, and I could see his taut muscles in his arms and on his stomach.

His dark brown hair was ruffled and had that I-just-woke-up look. He looked like a freaking Greek god.

He was handsome, gorgeous and-

"Finished checking me out yet, babe?"

-his ego completely ruined it all.

Author's Note-

Hi, um, this is my first story so excuse the grammatical errors and spelling and stuff like that. This is probably a really cliché story, just saying.

picture of cass on the side :)

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