AmeliaThe drive back to the house after Miguel gets me my Chinese takeout is not uncomfortable, considering we have every reason to after visiting Faye Smith.I decide not to bring up the issue. He doesn't either. Instead, I take in the scenery and he tells me what he knows about places that pique my interest. The sun has already set and when I look at the time as he parks in front of his condo, it's almost eight. My flight back to Evergreen is in less than twenty hours. Not enough time. Holding the food in his hands, I take the key from him and open the door, standing aside to let him in. When I close the door and turn, he's standing in the same spot. It doesn't take me long to figure it out. Because there's a naked girl standing in the centre of his living room."Surprise!" She screeches, running over to hug him. His hands open almost immediately, holding the food in wide berth from her attack as he remains frozen in place. My blood turns to ice. And I feel like entering int
Amelia"Good girl?" Miguel kisses my clit one more time and moves up my body to stare at me. This is the worst time to call me a good girl, I want to say but I'm speechless. And I can't move because my legs feel like jelly. The architect of my jelly legs takes in my expression and a smug smirk finds it's way to his lips "You okay?""Mmhmm" He chuckles, leaning down to kiss my mouth and I can taste myself on him. It's foreign but not unwelcome, because I'm already pulling him to me and deepening the kiss. I grip his shirt "Take this off" I say against his mouth and he pulls away briefly to tug off his shirt before he's coming back to kiss me hard and deep. I wrap my legs around him, and that's when I feel his crotch pressed against my core. I rock into it, causing him to groan into my mouth. And it makes me feel light-headed. I want more. I need more. I start undoing the zip of his jeans when his hands reach out to stop me. I open my eyes to see him staring at me. "Amy–" My nam
Walking into the kitchen, I stop and stare as Miguel makes me breakfast, completely oblivious that I'm in the vicinity. He hums along to the music playing, his bare back flexing as he moves from one place to the other, his hair in a bun. My eyes lock on the angel tattoo on his shoulder blade and my thighs clench together.I'd licked that tattoo and all the others. After the first time, Miguel had fed me some of my Chinese food, because halfway, I'd managed to convince him that I wasn't hungry for food but something else. To his credit, he tried to be a gentleman and decline but in the end, he couldn't win against me. After that he'd made me a warm bath and tried to move me out of the bed but I wanted to sleep. With him spooning me of course. He didn't say no. And then because he was a morning person and I wasn't, he'd gotten up first, showered and then lovingly tried to get me out of bed. It was a struggle to finally convince me to sit in the tub this morning while he washed my hair
AmeliaI'm an addict. And my poison of choice is a boy. Miguel Angel Sanchez has replaced beef jerky as my number one addiction. Staying away from him has become an exercise in effort since we came back together from Los Angeles. The days are wild. We have sex. Plenty of sex. Earth shattering sex. Back breaking sex. We do it everywhere. On my bed. On his bed. In the shower. In my car. In the lake. In the school janitor's closet. In the movie theatre. It's a fucking fest. I have bite marks all over my upper body and between my thighs to show for it. And I'm loving every moment of it. We go everywhere together. With Bianca of course because sometimes she's the only restraint we have from ripping each other apart. And even if my best friend notices the way I eye Miguel like a piece of beef jerky, she does her best to act clueless. It doesn't help that the feeling of having a clandestine relationship seems to only add to the thrill of the situation, even though I'm the only one who
Jennifer Byers, our school's guidance counselor, who also insists that we call her by her first name is probably the most easygoing adult I've ever met and that's saying a lot where my mother is concerned.Her blonde hair is always in a bun, her blue eyes obscured by her dark tinted glasses and she's always wearing a shirt tucked in a pair of jeans and a smile that makes me wonder if she doesn't go through anything remotely sad in her life. Maybe that's why she became a guidance counselor. She's easy to talk to. "Hello, Jennifer." I greet when I walk into her office, shutting the door behind me."Amy." She says with a big smile and gestures towards one of the two seats on the other side of her table. "Please have a seat.""Thanks" I sit on the chair she pointed at and cross my arms"How are you today?" "I'm good, thank you." "Well, I'm sure you know why I called you here."I nod "To talk about my college applications and get advice from you."She smiles again with a nod "You won't
Amelia’s POV Amelia ...the internet says seven because that's when I officially started learning how to paint but I knew when I was six. I wasn't good at school and I didn't talk much but for some reason.... ....Reading and writing is hard for some of us, not that you'll know anything about that.... ....He's in the counselor's office. You'll have to ask him. He sees her at least two or three times a week.... ....And yes, there are indeed things I am not good at. Like, school.... ....I'd like to think that in another life, I'd be good at it. And it wouldn't be so hard to like school.... ....Reading was difficult. Writing was worse.... ....She bought me crayons and said 'If you cannot read and write about the world, you can colour it'.... ....She read to me every night and suggested that I be homeschooled since the school environment wasn't working for me.... ....Something was wrong with me. Because why else would my parents not want me?.... ....It's not like you were ever goo
Amelia"Are you good?" I ask Miguel as we lie on my bed, his head on my chest and my hand softly stroking his hair. I've had to lock my door more because he's been spending almost all of his nights in my room. Half of my closet has been cleared out because he forgets his clothes here and showers here, to my immense satisfaction. "Is it okay to be scared?"He murmurs, drawing circles absentmindedly on my exposed abdomen. Exams are starting tomorrow and he's been working even harder than I have towards it. He finally got around to telling Bianca and her reaction was as easy as she is. You'd think we told her the time. Since then, we've been working with Jennifer and the teachers whose subjects he's finding most difficult. He's had two panic attacks and I was by his side for each one. So I can understand his worry even though everything else has been smooth. He hasn't pushed me on the topic of telling our parents about us, but I know it's because he's been busy obsessing over the exa
Amelia’s POV"It's beautiful" I gasp as I look at the Miguel's arm with awe. We're at a tattoo parlour in Denver and Miguel just finished getting a tattoo on the left side of his arm. Of a rose. I'd imagined it would be a horrifically painful experience the minute I saw the large needle, but as the tattoo artist got to work and I sat by Miguel, talking to him about anything and everything and holding his right hand, time had passed by really quick and it was done. Speaking of tattoos, I've gotten around to completing the wanton list or beginner's wanton list, according to my dearest best friend, Bianca. Skip school? Check. Get drunk? Check.Kiss a random guy? Christian Grammer, my former crush and now friend takes this one. Fail a test? Okay, I couldn't do this so it was scrapped. Get detention? To be fair, Miguel made me laugh in Mr Davis's, our boring History teacher's class and got detention with me. Bianca also got detention for clucking her tongue. It was a swell time. Go
Amelia"And here to deliver the valediction for the graduating class of 2019, Amelia Rose Hart, everyone." I don't look at my mother or my stepfather or my best friend or the applauding crowd that have gathered to celebrate all the graduating students, I look at the stage as I slowly advance towards it. And I remember the last time I saw anyone giving a speech on a stage was at prom. My ex boyfriend. Because yes, we did have a relationship contrary to what our parents think. Miguel Angel Sanchez. It seems like just yesterday when our love story started and ended. After he left that night, I'd spent the remainder of the days before graduation on Bianca's bed. My mother couldn't have moved me no matter how hard she tried. There was nothing to threaten me with. Especially when she knew I'd be leaving to go to New York in a month. Yes, Bianca and I got accepted to study at Columbia University just like we'd hoped we would. My mother didn't even bother about talking me into going to
AmeliaHave you ever heard that saying that warns you to look over your shoulder when things are going too smoothly for you?No? Me neither. Right now, I'm frozen in place by the door. Too forward?Okay. After Miguel's beautiful speech, we danced some more and Jane cornered me right before we left, her words cryptic and a smug grin on her face. I'd been so happy about the events of the night to pay her any mind even though now looking back, I should have. The good girl of Evergreen High, whatever will mummy say? "How dare you come here and do this?" Emilio roars and I flinch and shrink into the ground, even though he's not referring to me but the son he's currently holding by the neck. My mother is observing the scene with terror but riding on the back of that terror is disappointment. She's standing inches away from where I'm crouched on the ground."Let me go, Dad." Miguel breathes and that seems to be the sentence that sets Emilio off because he rears back and punches his s
Amelia"You know it's not because you're a jock, right?" I whisper and Christian nods, even though his face tells me that he doesn't quite believe me. The song ends and another starts, signalling that it's time to switch partners. We stop dancing and Christian places a kiss on the side of my mouth. "Till we meet again, fair maiden" He whispers to my still form and moves away to another partner. Slowly shaking my head with a smile, I turn around to find a new partner and cue the hammering heart and dancing butterflies. Miguel is standing in front of me. And that's when I finally hear the song playing. My song. Our song. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. My lips part as our bodies meet and I grip his shoulders to steady myself as we begin to move"I'm still mad at you." He whispers, pulling me even closer "No, not mad. I could never be mad at you. Frustrated, perhaps." He rests his forehead against mine "But I wanted to dance with you. To your song. Our song.
Amelia’s POV"Is this the wrong time to tell you that everybody has been staring since you walked into this hall?" I turn away my attention from where Miguel is standing and talking to Pamela Bradshaw–who seems to be smiling at everything he says even though he doesn't look like he's trying to charm her– to my best friend. She hands me a drink and when I raise my eyebrows "There's definitely no alcohol in this place. There are teachers everywhere in this hall to make sure of it."When I still raise my eyebrows, she snickers and whispers in my ear "Okay, Blake and the others might have smuggled some in, but this is purely punch. I promise.""Thank you." I tell her and collect the cup, taking a tentative sip before nodding"What's that about people staring? Is there something in my hair?" She shakes her head "You look like a princess. And of course, you arrived in the arms of a prince" Her face softens and she whispers "How are things between you two?" I shrug, ignoring the weight th
Amelia’s POVI can hear two voices at the base of the stairs as I take tentative steps towards it. "And what's your excuse, young man for not having a date to prom? I mean, look at you. I'm sure you have your fair share of ladies vying for your attention." My mother. And if she's talking to who I think she is...My heart skids to a halt. Please come to prom. Please. Saying no to you is an exercise in effort, Mia. He's going to prom. And we're going to be in the same car and not able to say anything because of his dad's driver. But he's going. I'll find a way to end this silence between us. Because I can't afford to go another night without talking to him. I pause when I hear his reply"I don't have a date because the one person that I want to go with doesn't feel the same way."Oh, I feel the same way. My mother gasps "Some girl in this world is immune to your charms? This is a revelation."He snickers and I suck in a breath as I make my presence known. The second their head
Amelia"Ooh, yeah, you lose, Miles, pay up ASAP." Miguel yells with a fist bump in the air and I look away from the novel I'm reading on my phone to see Bianca rolling her eyes and dropping a bill in his hand. "A rematch, Angel. I demand a rematch." She whines and I roll my eyes because Bianca hates losing and Miguel is even worse so we're going to be here for a long while. I should get very comfortable then. The duo dragged me to the arcade about an hour ago and have been at it like animals. This is the first time I've been able to go with them because I've been busy with the decathlon–which we won by the way in flying colours and got me the gold neckpiece I'm wearing from Miguel– and I can honestly say that I want nothing more than my bed right now. "And you're done. Again. Pay up, Bianca." "I demand a rematch."Oh my God, is this ever going to end?"You're on, Miles."Gahhhhhhhhhhh, this is never going to end. "So, Mimi–" Bianca calls without looking at me "–what time are we
Amelia’s POV"It's beautiful" I gasp as I look at the Miguel's arm with awe. We're at a tattoo parlour in Denver and Miguel just finished getting a tattoo on the left side of his arm. Of a rose. I'd imagined it would be a horrifically painful experience the minute I saw the large needle, but as the tattoo artist got to work and I sat by Miguel, talking to him about anything and everything and holding his right hand, time had passed by really quick and it was done. Speaking of tattoos, I've gotten around to completing the wanton list or beginner's wanton list, according to my dearest best friend, Bianca. Skip school? Check. Get drunk? Check.Kiss a random guy? Christian Grammer, my former crush and now friend takes this one. Fail a test? Okay, I couldn't do this so it was scrapped. Get detention? To be fair, Miguel made me laugh in Mr Davis's, our boring History teacher's class and got detention with me. Bianca also got detention for clucking her tongue. It was a swell time. Go
Amelia"Are you good?" I ask Miguel as we lie on my bed, his head on my chest and my hand softly stroking his hair. I've had to lock my door more because he's been spending almost all of his nights in my room. Half of my closet has been cleared out because he forgets his clothes here and showers here, to my immense satisfaction. "Is it okay to be scared?"He murmurs, drawing circles absentmindedly on my exposed abdomen. Exams are starting tomorrow and he's been working even harder than I have towards it. He finally got around to telling Bianca and her reaction was as easy as she is. You'd think we told her the time. Since then, we've been working with Jennifer and the teachers whose subjects he's finding most difficult. He's had two panic attacks and I was by his side for each one. So I can understand his worry even though everything else has been smooth. He hasn't pushed me on the topic of telling our parents about us, but I know it's because he's been busy obsessing over the exa
Amelia’s POV Amelia ...the internet says seven because that's when I officially started learning how to paint but I knew when I was six. I wasn't good at school and I didn't talk much but for some reason.... ....Reading and writing is hard for some of us, not that you'll know anything about that.... ....He's in the counselor's office. You'll have to ask him. He sees her at least two or three times a week.... ....And yes, there are indeed things I am not good at. Like, school.... ....I'd like to think that in another life, I'd be good at it. And it wouldn't be so hard to like school.... ....Reading was difficult. Writing was worse.... ....She bought me crayons and said 'If you cannot read and write about the world, you can colour it'.... ....She read to me every night and suggested that I be homeschooled since the school environment wasn't working for me.... ....Something was wrong with me. Because why else would my parents not want me?.... ....It's not like you were ever goo