The Best Friend's Daughter

Gabrielle Fuentes expects this to be the best year so far in high school. With his hot girlfriend and football buds, he's in the popular crowd for good. But when his mom drops a bomb on him during their annual dinner, will his year be completely ruined?

Kris Trinity can't believe her mom is doing this to her. One thing is ending her marriage, another is her decision to move them both. Can she handle her new home? Better yet, can she finally learn why her parents decided to call it quits?

Chapter 1: 

"Mom, seriously, stop," I reflexively pull away from her grasp as she tries to fix my upturned collar. My explanation about popped collars on polo shirts, or slightly baggy jeans was lost on her back when I started following the style of the jocks at Trent High School in grade nine, and it sure as hell wouldn't matter now. "I'm going to be late for the first day, which may I remind you will not look so good to the coach." 

Mom lets out a quick breath before placing a small hand on my broad shoulder. Her curly hair is tied back in a loose bun and her chestnut brown eyes squint, like they always do on the first day of school. "I just can't believe that you're almost done high school, Gabe." 

"Hardly, still have this year and the next. Not what I call almost." 

"Okay, okay," mom puts up hers hands in defence, her warm Californian tan glowing in the morning light seeping through the windows on the large double doors behind me. "Understood. Have fun today, don't do anything I wouldn't do." 

I smile and grab my bag from the bottom of the marble staircase. I know that phrase like the back of my hand. It usual stands for, "I'll let you do what you want, but be careful," in mom speak. Beside the wide front entrance of the house is an oak stand that holds all the keys to the cars that mom likes to buy on occasion. Deciding quickly, I grab the keys to the Cadillac Escalade that she bought with me in mind several months before. 

Mom clears her throat when I'm halfway out the door and I abruptly stop. I know what's coming before she even says a word.

"Remember, dinner tonight to celebrate another year," she says, leaning against the light blue painted wall behind her. It's her designated spot as a mom because she  never puts paintings or mirrors there, so it's always free for her to rest against. "Don't break the car on your way to school." 

"Got it," I smile and quickly peck her on the cheek, before continuing towards the garage. As soon as I'm out in the hot Californian sun my skin begins to tingle. It's going to be a wicked first day, I can just feel it. Not just because I finally got with Nicky Lamiere, only the hottest chick in my grade, but mainly because I'm starting this year on the senior football team. This is clearly a huge honour for a mere Junior like me. 

I type in the password into the keypad outside of the garage and wait for the system to process my request. While waiting, I look back at our mansion, designed to look like an old Spanish beach house with sand coloured walls and brick red roofing, to see if mom has already closed the front door. She's probably going to her publisher today before finishing up another manuscript. 

Beep Beep.

The garage's security system alerts me that I've got precisely five minutes to pick my car of choice and get the hell out of there. I shrug my bag higher up on my shoulder and head towards the gleaming black Cadillac. My eyes move from car to car, admiring their beauty. Though our collection ranges from sleek Nissans to pricey Ferrarris (an indulgence of my mother's that I will never understand), I need to make a splash with a large enough vehicle to carry my best buds back after school.

After stuffing my bag in the back of the car, I jump into the driver's seat and guide the giant towards the security enabled gates. Why we need gates, I'll never know. We live in a gated community in Trent County, somewhere just before Los Angeles and after Orange County. Pretty much everyone inside the gates has the same kind of money we have, but nonetheless, security is a big thing around here. 

The gates click and slide open smoothly. As soon as the opening is wide enough, I drive through. Shortly after, I'm past the security guard, Lou, who sits around eating doughnuts and drinking coffee nearly all day. My temptation to check my Blackberry for any messages from Nicky is nibbling at me, but I know mom would kill me if I wasn't paying one hundred percent attention to the road. 

Dad died when I was three years-old.  I barely remember the guy. All I know is that he loved me enough to always leave his law firm early every Friday night so we could have some bonding time, which back in the day was a big no-no with the big guys in other firms. After dad died, mom became her overprotective self. I know what mom's thinking though, "If someone as healthy as my husband can die just like that, then why can't my only son?".My uncle Davis took over the firm and promised us a regular paycheck biweekly equalling what my dad had made when he was alive. We are a family of old money, and of loyalties. 

Mom never remarried and we never moved from our Spanish-style mansion. I could say that it's creepy living in a place that dad and mom loved so much together, that maybe his ghost still wanders around the place, but I'd be lying if I did. Since I barely remember dad, I have no reason to fear the mansion. Several years ago, mom starting writing novels. First she started with adult novels, but then settled into the Young Adult fiction genre. She's been a best-seller ever since. 

"Incoming call," the Cadillac's bluetooth warns me. I shake my head, trying to come back to my senses. The morning sunlight is nearly at its full strength already. 

"Yes," I say, rubbing my hand through my thick curls. 

"Hey baby," Nicky's voice purrs through the speakers and I smirk. The girl even sounds hot. "Where are you?" 

"On my way, just left the house." 

"Gabrielle," she says slowly. Man, I love when she says my name like that: slow and sultry. She says it in a way no other girl has ever dared to say it. Then again, she is Nicky. "Just don't be late okay, baby?"

"Won't be," I say, squeezing the steering wheel tightly. Just picturing her in that cute miniskirt that she'd told me about the night before gets me going. "I'll be there in five, just hold on, okay babe?" 

Yep. This is definitely going to be a rocking day. 

The End

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