Those Three WordsMature

“Why the hell are we moving?” I asked for the gazillionth time.

“Because,” my mom answered.

I was squished between two of the world’s greatest annoyances: Logan and Griffin, my younger and older brother. Logan, the younger one, was 14 and Griffin, the older one was 18. And he was going to Duke. Wow, he was smart. A smart ass, I should say. And while he texted his bitch of a girlfriend, my mother’s third boyfriend in 5 months, said that we should stop moaning and texting and enjoy the view. You see, I would enjoy the view if my brothers’ fat ass heads weren’t in the way. I sighed, holding my knees against my chest. Wow, this was gonna be fun. Hell yes.

“Are we there yet?” Logan complained.

John, my mother’s boyfriend, turned his head and smiled.

“Just ten more minutes, bud,” he said.


“Eyes on the road Jonathan,” I said, shaking my head.

He shook his head, as if to mimic me, and continued to drive like a safe driver would. My mother groaned, hating when I called him by his full name. Just call him dad. And how the hell were we supposed to do that? I closed my eyes for a minute, opened them again, and saw the car pull into a driveway. The house near the beach… and it was gorgeous. What? Were they trying to bribe us or something? I mean, we all knew that Jonathan wanted this. He wanted to open a store on the boardwalk his whole entire life. And that was the reason we moved. My mother didn’t take into consideration that this year would’ve been my senior year, and that Logan was starting high school. Just Griffin and John. But, luckily, my dad still lived in Washington and I would be able to go back and finish my senior year. I guess my mom kinda sorta cared.  

I walked inside with my bags; the moving truck came in after. And I chose my room. The walls were a light limish green There were built-in shelves for my babies (my random, old, worn-out books, half of which I stole from the library that abused them) and large windows. And there was the cute little couch by one window, in between the shelves. Lovely. I opened my bags, wanting to get done with the unpacking.

“Yo, Syd!” my brother called from downstairs.

I ran downstairs to see what the hell he needed.


“Your crap’s here,” he said, smiling.

“You’re a bastard,” I said, shaking my head.

I grabbed as much as I could, letting the movers place my bed in the center in the room I had chosen, and my desk across from it. My dresser went to the side, my small version of ‘Starry Night’ on the wall above my desk. I took out sheets, making my bed. I placed all my books sloppily in the shelves, and flopped onto the bed. Finally. I didn’t like the move, but I liked the sun peering down onto my face.

I took a shower after everyone settled in. The warm water felt good against my sticky skin. I slipped into my yellow bikini bottoms and white t-shirt with a v-neck that dipped low. Running my fingers through my wet, long, wavy brown hair, I walked outside onto the patio, seeing the nice green grass glisten with early morning dew. I sighed, sliding on some flip flops. My mom and John decided to “break into” the new bedroom and I did not want to be around when this event was transpiring.

The beach was walking distance. Logan and Griffin were already there. I was hit with the smell of pizza, hamburgers, fries, and funnel cake. Yum. I walked in the warm, soft sand, digging my toes into the surface. I crossed my arms, squinting because of the bright yellow sun, which also dried my hair quite quickly.

 My peace was interrupted by a Frisbee. A stupid goddamn Frisbee. Seriously?

“Over here, babe,” someone called.

“You talking to me?” I shouted back, looking at a hot, shirtless guy walking toward me.

His light brown hair was messy, and he was squinting a nice pair of light green eyes. I counted his abs mentally. A delightful six pack. But, no, I would let myself into his pretty boy trap. Wow. Typical summer type of thing. Girl hates guy. Girl falls for the guy. Etc., etc. He smiled.

“I’ll take that,” he said, trying to take the Frisbee, “you wanna play, babe?”

“No,” I said, sternly, “and stop calling me that, babe.”

“Ooo, you’re a feisty one. That’s hot.”

“And you’re a complete jackass. And, that’s not hot.”

“Damn,” he said, “fucking damn.”

I rolled my eyes, handing him the Frisbee.

“You sure?” he asked, running backwards.

He tripped and fell flat on his ass. I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. One of his friends came, laughing as hard as me, and helped him up.

“I’m Sydney by the way,” I called.

“Good to know,” he said, chuckling, “I’m Derek.”

“Really? You seem like a Dick.”

“A dick?”

“I meant the name, dumbass. Or both.”

“Haha,” he said, laughing falsely, “you’re funny.”

“Oh, I know.”

“We… should hang out sometime.”

“Nah,” I said, walking back home.

The End

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