Talia:

"If this green bitch destroys my house one more time, I swear on my life I will jump out of that window!"

I lift my head up to find Cassie cursing at the TV again. Her fingers turn white from clutching the PlayStation controller, and her face flushes red with a rage that I saw only just a few minutes ago.

A smile stretches across my face as I bite my lip to conceal my laughter. Quinn, seated next to the enraged Cas, falls on the ground, not bothering to contain her loud giggles.

"This is not something to laugh at!" Cassie yells, punching our friend in the arm. She gestures to the video game screen where the aftermath of the destruction remains. "I put so much effort into that beautiful structure."

"It was a house of dirt," Quinn states in between coughs. She's still trying to hold in whatever giggles she has left.

Cassie rolls her eyes at this and directs her attention back to rebuilding her beautiful structure.

Nothing says Friday night like eighteen-year olds playing a game that was meant for kids. But who's here to judge?

This is a weekly occurrence for our friend group. Every Friday, at a time where a majority of our high school is at a party, the three of us have our own little get-together. Quinn brings her PlayStation over to my house, we pick out a game to play, and often end the night with stomach aches from the amount of snacks we ate. It's a routine.

Cassie, noted for her loud character and threatening brown eyes, tends to take the game very, very seriously. If I ever needed someone to protect or fight for me, I would immediately call Cas. Occasionally, we fall into our own fights, but they are resolved easily. Even though she gives you stares that make you want to hide, she is generally one of the most caring people I know. Just never tell that to her face. Or she will rip you apart. Limb. By. Limb.

Quinn, on the other hand, is always a bottle of sunshine. She does not laugh, but actually giggles. I sometimes wonder how someone can be happy almost every single second of the day. It's even harder for me to believe that her bubbly personality is paired with dark colored clothing and a tattoo of a dead flower on the upper left of her back. Her style and personality has always confused me; not because it is a strange pairing, but because they somehow blend together.

I tend to spend our glorious time together catching up on homework for the week. No, I am not a "nerd," or whatever the term is people use these days. I just take my grades seriously because I have my parents standards to live up to. Both of them are lawyers and seem to believe I should be some kind of super-genius due to their brilliant combination of genes. I suppose they are somewhat correct considering I get mainly A's.

I'm not even sure I'm naturally smart. All I know is that I study every available hour until perfection is met. However, it's not my definition of perfection, it's my parents.

School isn't really my passion. Sure, it feels good to get good grades, especially since it keeps my parents off my back, but I'd rather spend my time doing something else besides studying. I'd rather create art.

Is that a cliché? Maybe. But that's my serious answer.

I hide my art supplies under my bed to keep it from my parents. I'm afraid they would yell at me for spending my money on a "hobby"—my mom's word, not mine—that only wastes time. It's easier for me to keep it a secret this way.

At school I have taken nearly every art class available. I tell my dear, understanding parents that extracurricular classes are necessary in order to graduate, which allows me to have a safe space for painting, and whatnot. When I try to show them what I created during those classes, they always nod silently, then proceed to ask me how I did on my math or history test. You know, the more important classes.

Similar to my painting supplies, I hide my artwork in my closet. All I want from my parents is some kind of support or validation for my accomplishments outside of core classes. If I know they will eventually, I'll wait. I can wait.

"I'll go get us some more chips," I say with a laugh after Cassie throws a handful at Quinn, which only heightens her giggling.

I place my math homework down and walk out of the living room and into the kitchen with a wide smile. That quickly changes when Quinn shouts from the other room:

"Lia, guess who tried talking to me today during Health class."

I quickly turn my head to her voice and begin shaking my head. "Don't tell me—"

She vigorously nods her head yes and says my least favorite name in the world: "Carter."

At the sound of his name my jaw tightens. Another cliché when you hear the name of your ex? Maybe. But it's the truth.

Some people are lucky and have the most caring, kind boyfriends ever. Not me. Before and during the early stages of our relationship, I thought Carter was just another a sweet guy. As our romantic journey progressed, he became a total lying and manipulative dickhead.

At parties, when I denied having a drink, Carter would say things like, "have a little fun for once," or, my personal favorite, "it's just one drink." He would ask to take a picture on my phone, then proceed to search through my text messages. When confronted, he claimed that that was what normal boyfriends do. He must of thought I was gullible. I'm not.

The worst of the bullshit came when I broke up with Carter. He tried to tell me that I never gave him a real chance. Or I was being over-dramatic with the reasons for wanting to end our relationship. I never felt as if he truly respected me, and him yelling I was a stupid bitch after just proved me right.

It's funny how karma works sometimes, though, because the next day at school, Carter walked in with the largest black eye I had ever seen. I wish I could give whoever did that a kiss—which is definitely deserved.

But that was the past and that's where I wanted to keep him; until Quinn brought up the name of the devil.

"What did that idiot want?" shouts Cassie, finally pausing the game.

"The same thing every freaking month: for me to talk to our dearest friend Talia about giving  him a second chance," Quinn exclaims while dramatically rolling her eyes.

Cassie and I repeat her eye movement and groan.

It was always the same with him. Every month on the dot, Carter talks to either Cas or Quinn about reconnecting with me. In these situations, I told them to ignore the dickhead, but Cassie tends to go off script and gives him the finger. I'm proud of her.

"God, he is so infuriating!" I mumble into my hands.

Cassie agrees with this. "Just a few more months and we will never have to breathe the same air as him ever again."

At this I sighed. Until graduation, he will hang as a dark cloud that threatens to rain at any moment. His shadow sits on my shoulders especially during school, when I have to worry about passing him in the hallway. Three more months and I'm free. I can do it. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

"Why can't he ever take a hint?" I say, "I don't even understand why he's so obsessed with me."

"You're just so pretty and cute," Quinn coos, pinching my cheeks.

I laugh and give her a little shove. "He still needs to learn to fuck off."

"We're still here to protect you, though. We can even get matching tee-shirts that say 'Lia's bodyguards.'" Cassie says with a wide grin.

"You two are getting annoying," I monotonously note.

Both of them laugh and pull me into a smothering hug.

"Alright sweet-cheeks, we're going to rock-and-roll," says Quinn.

Cas expresses a disgusted face towards her. "Ugh, dude, you sound my dad when you say that."

Quinn bites her lip, holding in a giggle and then opens her mouth slightly...

"Don't say it, or I swear to God," Cassie asserts, waving an accusing finger towards our innocent looking friend.

Quinn only smiles wider and opens her mouth, staring directly at Cas with large doe eyes. "Dilf."

Then, hell breaks loose.

My two best friends chase each other around my house until they run out the front door, leaving me gasping for air from laughing. They're strange, but I love them.

***

Thump, thump, thump!

What the-

I wake up from my spot on the couch confused. When I pick up my phone I notice it's 12:43 AM. Why did I just wake up?

Thump, thump, thump!

Oh, right. There's something flopping around on my front porch. I hope it's not a murderer.

I sit up and begin slowly creeping to the front door, not wanting the possible murderer to know I'm awake. Butterflies have already caught in my stomach and seem to be growing larger with every step.

I can do this. 3...2...1... I turn on the porch light at the same time I swing the door open, ready to attack the intruder.

Oh. Never mind.

My drunk sister stumbles around on the porch, being held up around the shoulder by a man. Huh. Interesting.

"Heyyyy Liaaaa!" slurs Jessica, my polar opposite, fraternal twin sister.

I give a forced smile and open the door wider for my newly arrived company. The man...or guy, helps Jess through the door and gently sits her down on the couch. As he extends to his full height and finally turns around into the light, I see the guy who mysteriously returned my sister home from another night of partying.

"Grayson," I say in shock.

Gray, as his friends call him, has been in a few of my classes at school. I think he was in my kindergarten class, also, but my memory is choppy. However, he's in a totally different social group than mine. He used to be friends with Carter, and now that I think of it, they stopped hanging out around the time we broke up. Maybe he also realized how much of a dickhead Carter is.

He looks down at me and gives me a half smile. "Hi, Talia." He shyly points at my sister and then stares at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. "She got a little drunk at the party tonight. I thought I'd bring her home so a wrong guy wouldn't find her."

"Oh. Well, thank you," I say, smiling a little at Grayson, who is still avoiding my gaze. That only makes me smile more. He has always been a tiny bit shy and quiet. "I think I got it from here, though. Thanks again for bringing her home."

"Byeeeeeee Gray!" yells Jessica, giving him a wink. Scratch that. It was a blink with both eye lids. Very funny, Jess.

Grayson gives me a small nod and wave goodbye, and leaves without another word. Strange guy.

I turn off the light outside and then I finally face my drunk sister. Great. "Come on drunkie, let's get you to bed."

"Awe. Why do you have to be so lame?" Jess whines.

"Yeah, yeah. Lame Talia, I know," I groan while assisting her up the stairs.

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Ta da. First chapter, baby. This was kind of an introduction chapter so you could meet the main characters. Stuff will get spicier and chapters will get longer.

Qotd: what's your favorite book trope?