Chapter 2 The Bad boy moves in

Amelia's POV

"Amy, you are not going to run away from the house, are you?" Bianca asks, shoving a fry into her mouth and throwing her bare legs up on the table nonchalantly, as if she wasn't wearing a micro mini black skirt.

It's lunch time, two weeks after we resumed for second term, all but six months standing between us and college. It seems like a long time ago when I saw a certain someone's penile parts.

A lot has happened since that night besides the wedding.

First, I turned seventeen. Then, the first term of senior year happened, the only remarkable thing about it a relationship between my former best friend and my longtime crush.

Jane Dulaney and Christian Grammer.

Let's start with Jane.

If anyone had told me when we were entering high school that Jane, my best friend since I was nine, wouldn't be with me forever, I'd have scoffed and thrown insults at them, in my mind, of course, because Mother taught me to never use swear words.

But Jane and I were not meant to be, because once we got into high school, Jane Dulaney decided that her nerd friend–me–, wasn't what she needed if she wanted to rule high school. By the third term of freshman year, Jane had become a cheerleader, ditched me for the 'populars' and I'd been heartbroken, like any other jilted friend in the world.

Sophomore year–which I thought I'd have to pass through, friendless except I started trying to find new friends amongst my fellow nerds–came and along with it, new student and a friend I'd never known I'd needed, Bianca Miles.

I'd almost run her and her bicycle over with my car–an old Jeep that was my dad's– that morning and she'd declared that it was a sign that we were meant to be and it'd taken just three days for her to worm her way into my heart and my life, despite our obvious differences.

Maroon hair so dark it was difficult to determine if my hair was red or brown on a rainy day, pale blue eyes and five feet six, I was nothing like Bianca. Five feet nine and still growing, she'd dyed her brown hair platinum blond, had dark brown eyes and wasn't a nerd.

She was a people person; I wasn't.

She was a boy freak; I didn't like boys (okay, there's one boy I like, more on that later.)

She was a party rocker; I never agreed to go to any of those parties, no matter how hard she guilt tripped me.

She was model slim and gorgeous, had bronze skin that made me jealous of her tan; I was pale and slim with hips that were slightly wider, fuller breasts and an overall girl next door prettiness, my hair always in a ponytail or bun.

She wanted to study theatre; I wanted to be a doctor.

The only thing we probably shared in common was our love for novels and internet stalking (you didn't think I was a complete goody two shoes, did you?)

Okay, back on track, Bianca and I have been friends since sophomore year and she's the only person other than my former best friend Jane who knows about my longtime crush, Christian "Chris" Grammer.

Dark blonde hair, baby blue eyes that up until my mum's engagement party, I'd thought about countless times –now when I think of eyes, two pairs of eyes come to mind- six feet with a body that clearly worked out, star quarterback of Evergreen Highschool's football team, 'the Wolves' since sophomore year, Chris Grammer was every teenage girl's "It" boy.

And no, unlike most of his friends in the popular group, he wasn't mean, condescending and stuck up. He was nice and warm and always had a smile on his face. We'd gone to the same school since elementary but it wasn't till the start of freshman year when he'd piggybacked me to the school nurse after I sprained my ankle right beside the football court (while staring at him), that I developed a crush. We didn't talk much after that, but he always smiled at me whenever he saw me. Jane, who'd still been my friend at the start of freshman year was the only person I'd told. And now, three years later, she's dating him. The head cheerleader and queen bitch of Evergreen High–Bianca's words not mine because I don't cuss.

I'd always blamed being a nerd as the reason Jane and I split up, until she'd personally stopped by my locker first day of Senior year to inform me that she and Chris had started dating during the long holiday, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

"You don't mind that I'm taking him, right, Amy? I mean, of course you don't, it's not like he knows you exist or that you dated or anything."

That's when I knew that for some reason, Jane had moved from actively ignoring me to actively hating on me. These days, she made sure to sneer whenever we were in the same vicinity. I'd have minded her, except that Bianca was joined with me at the hip and was the 'it' girl in Evergreen High. It made me feel better that at least someone like that was on my side, and it didn't hurt that Bianca was also on the cheerleading team, so I had every reason to attend the football games and sometimes watch them practice whilst sneaking glances at Chris on the football field. That I couldn't have him didn't mean I couldn't look, and he still smiled and waved whenever he saw me so I took solace in that.

That, however wasn't the reason I was planning to run away from the house I'd finally started to feel comfortable in after residing in it for almost seven months .

Eight weeks after the engagement party–which I'd actively tried to forget–, Emilio and my mum had tied the knot in a low-key wedding ceremony. Thankfully, Miguel was a no show, and after that, life sort of continued, my mom still teaching at the elementary school and Emilio sometimes working from home or going to his office in Denver for business. The only times I saw anyone in that big house was when I was entering, leaving or during meals. Other than that, I spent the rest of my time holed up in my gigantic room, on my gigantic four poster bed, or sitting by the window where I stayed sometimes to read or stare into the woods. When I wasn't in the house, I was at Bianca's. I'd really tried to like Emilio, for my mum's sake and it was safe to say he adored me. I was the child he wished he'd had. Responsible, smart and not wanton. The hidden jabs at his son didn't go unnoticed, at least not by me.

My mum had started taking Spanish classes every Sunday at Mrs Perez's studio and she'd dragged me along, claiming it was bonding time. It didn't help that spending two hours learning Spanish every Sunday meant I was thinking of Miguel Angel at least once a week. I hadn't gone near that music room once. I didn't tell anyone what had happened that night, and the only person I'd have told–Bianca– was already crazy enough about him that she'd find it funny and ask about the size of his ...

Everything was fine, until October last year when Miguel's mum went into a rehabilitation center for drug addiction and not up to one week after, he was taken into custody for DUI(driving under influence). Thankfully, he hadn't gotten into any accidents but with his mother out of commission, Emilio had had to fly to Los Angeles to help settle his case. Plus he'd gotten into a fight at the party he'd driven away from and the assaulted person wanted to press charges. Because he was 18 (born 11th of May, thanks to Bianca's internet stalking prowess) and wasn't even supposed to be drinking alcohol, it had been a difficult situation, but because he wasn't an addict, thankfully and because there hadn't been any accident, another thanks coupled with Emilio's and Faye's connections, he was sentenced to three months of community service after which he'd have to be on strict parental supervision, his license revoked for six months.

Yesterday was when his three months of community service officially ended.

If all things didn't go south between that time and now, Miguel was already on his way to Colorado, to spend six months of probation under parental supervision, with his father. In the house. Where I lived.

My stepbrother was going to live with me in the same house till I went to college. For six months!

"Like what you see?"

"I am going to run away, B. Can your bed accommodate two people?"

The snort she gives tells me all that I need to know.

I'm screwed.