Chapter 1
The piercing cry of my alarm cut through my sleep-fogged brain. I grumbled and reached out blindly to shut it off. On a typical day, I would have a significant amount of trouble waking. On the first days of school, however, the stress was real.
I’ve famously had unfortunate first days, starting from kindergarten. That year, Suzie Gilmer snatched my lunchbox, took both my cookies out, and dumped the rest in the trash. In first grade, my boyfriend of one hour “broke up” with me for Katie Anderson. The misfortune continued through junior year, in which Susan (formerly “Suzie”) posted a particularly unflattering picture of me from fourth grade. The humiliating lasted days.
Now, today is the first day of my senior year, and I’m sure something equally as wicked will occur. I forced my sleep-deprived eyes to open through a shower of eye-boogers. Cute. I dragged myself out of bed. The last thing I wanted to do right now was face Susan and her troupe of bitches.
Rachel - my best friend - had promised we could go shopping at the mall this weekend. Though it was Monday and alas, the only things in my wardrobe were dresses from fancy-schmancy dinners. I managed to dig out a light-blue blouse and a pair of jean shorts.
“AVA!” My mom bellowed from the kitchen. The aroma of bacon and eggs drifted up the stairs. “Breakfast is ready!”
“Coming!” I mumbled, pulling on my shorts and facing the mirror. My light-brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and my average-looking face curled in disgust. My only leading features were my eyes. I inherited them from my dad; they were green around the edge and blue near the pupil. I thought of Susan’s supermodel good looks. Legs for days, bright blue eyes, and golden curls. I mentally slapped myself. Wake the fuck up!
I flew downstairs and froze. My mother was flipping eggs with her blond locks tied back haphazardly. But that’s not what was concerning. A tall man - 6′4" - was washing a plate in the sink, his back to me. His honey hair was tousled sexily, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Who the fuck was this bastard?
“What the hell?” I gritted out. Dad died five years ago in a freak accident at work. A call from his boss delivered the tragic news to our home. I remember sitting at the coffee table, doing multiplication homework. The air smelled of brewed coffee, and the phone rang. My mother had picked up the phone and listened intently for a couple of seconds. I recall looking up, right as all the color drained from her face, and her hands began shaking.
I hope she knew I wouldn’t ever accept anyone else as a father. The stranger turned around as my mother looked up, and she beamed. I glanced at the man and went very, very still.
This man was sex on legs. His bright green eyes stared me down. He flashed a smile that revealed dimples; it had me in a puddle. Sexy stubble coating his cheeks and chin. Could this man get any better? My gaze traveled down his body, and my body grew hot as I noted the solid muscle beneath his shirt. I gawked, knowing I looked stupid.
His voice sounds through the air, and my eyes snap up. I could feel a blush coloring my cheeks. “This is your daughter?” His murmur was raspy and gruff.
I snapped out of my absurd fantasy, my lust replaced with anger. Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think he can just waltz in and replace my father of twelve years? I bet he didn't know my favorite book, or a favorite song, or what flavor ice cream I eat while having emotional breakdowns.
My mother grinned, wiping her hands on a duck-patterned washcloth. A washcloth Dad gave her. “Yes, this is her.” Isn’t it fucking obvious? “Ana? Meet Sean, my new boyfriend.”
I nearly threw up all over the marble floor. Boyfriend? This guy looks twenty years younger than her! Granted, my mother still looked ten years younger than she was.
“You know she’s forty, right?” I mutter. Call me a bitch, but I just wasn’t in the mood. My mom's eyes bulged in horror and the man smirked. My brain screamed at me, shut the hell up!, but I couldn't. "I mean, of course, she doesn't look like it, but we celebrated her 40th birthday about nine months ago and-"
My mother's face was so enraged, I cringed. "Young lady! You will not speak like that to your mother! Go to school!" Her face was red with anger, and at that moment, she did look forty.
While all this was happening, that fucking imbecile - Sean - stood there smirking, arms crossed over his chest.
