Chapter 38

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Chapter Thirty Eight

"What the hell!"

It's early in the morning and of course, Trace is here to wake me up. Being friends with him is the equivalent of befriending an alarm clock.

My curtains are pulled back allowing the sunlight to glow on my face while Trace stands by the window smirking.

It's never good to be woken up to see a man standing in front of your window.

"And good morning to you too," he says with a grin.

"Why are you in my room?"

He shrugs, "You should really start locking the front door. Or at least get a dog that'll warn you when someone walks into your house."

Mom left for a flight this morning and she sucks at security. The house would be robbed by now if it weren't for me locking the door whenever I can. She'd let us sleep at night with no protection if I didn't walk by and check the doors. Not that our neighborhood is bad and people are constantly breaking and entering, but locks are put there for a reason.

And Sadie never barks at anything so although she's a sweetie, you never rely on her to keep bad guys away.

I groan and check the time, "Nine o' clock? You really have nowhere else to be at nine in the morning?"

He chuckles and walks over to me. He grabs a wad of my blanket and begins pulling but I won't go down without a fight.

I yank on my end but it backfires as I punch myself in the face.

"Come on, Emma. Just get up and entertain me. The kids are at a friends house and I'm bored."

My hand goes up to my nose and I rub gently as the pain seeps away.

He wiggles his eyebrows, "Or," he does a leap and lands on the empty spot beside me, "we could nap and I can spoon you."

I groan again and shove him off the bed while he laughs before a big thud hits the floor.

Even though I know he's kidding, that was enough motivation for me to drag myself out of the bed. I walk past him to get to my bathroom so I can brush my teeth. He just lays on the floor and watches me walk into the restroom.

I wet my toothbrush and scrub away as I hum along to my alphabet before spitting.

When I get done, Trace is gone from the previous spot on the floor.

Welp, I'm going to eat breakfast.

You could be federal agents coming by my house to investigate a series of murders and I'd still eat breakfast while you interrogate me. Nobody is going to keep my tummy grumbling, not even Trace.

I get downstairs and the stereo turns on, surprising me. It blasts the song, I'm Sorry by Buckcherry.

Trace starts dancing around the kitchen while he gets the eggs from the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" I shout over the music and he shrugs but keeps a rhythm to his hips.

"I'm hungry and seeing as you're you, I assume you are too." He knows me well. Simply being Emma is enough to be hungry. I'm always hungry.

He sways his hips back and forth while screaming out the lyrics like a rockstar and flipping the eggs.

"I'm sorry you're bad
I'm sorry you're blue
I'm sorry about all the things I said to you
And I know I can't take them back."

If the song wasn't as loud as it is it might be a little depressing to listen to, but with it blasting through the house you can only get energy from it.

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