That Girl - @((Y^!@ Allyvia (heaven official's blessing novel english .TXT) 📗

How I Became That Girl

 

After

 

Every story starts with a boy. Or, maybe, the stories end with a boy....

 

My story starts when Todd Fisher asked me on a date. I think that story ends about the time I sent him a sexy picture, sans the lace panty set. Yeah, I know, it was stupid. Everyone told me it was. At least, Emma and Meika did. Everyone else avoided me like I had the bubonic plague.

 

Oh, you haven't even heard the best part. See, the latter note about the sensitive black-blue swelling disease from the Dark Ages was because, of course, the picture was leaked. Even better, he leaked the picture on purpose.

 

So, here I was, painting my nails Bubblegum Pink when Meika called.

 

"Saylor, what the fuck have you done," she cried into the phone as I flipped it open, her loud voice making me flinch and pull the cell from my ear. My brows furrowing in annoyance and confusion, I screwed the cap back onto my nail polish and nestled the phone between my shoulder and ear to get a good look at my newly painted pink toes. Todd always liked it when my toes were pink, like cotton candy.

 

I could just picture Meika's wild black curls shaking as she screamed into the phone like a deranged Justin Timberlake fan. Rolling my eyes and looking up at my ceiling, I frowned. The spackle was cracked and the not-nearly-as-pink-as-the-can-had-promised paint was looking faded. And some of those stupid, glow-in-the-dark stickers were still there from seventh grade... Maybe I should redecorate? I saw this adorable Audrey Hepburn poster at Walls and-

 

"Saylor, hello?! Are you even listening?!"

 

In my defense, Meika was the definition of melodramatic. She freaked out when I cut my bangs in ninth grade using a pair of rusty kitchen scissors; she freaked out when Mindy Crenshaw started dating her older brother, Frankie; she freaked when a flimsy, blue dragonfly landed on her shoulder during one of the camping trips I had all but dragged her to in seventh grade.

 

"Of course I am-"

 

"Your cookies are all over Facebook," she said, making me stop mid-word. What?! Was this some code-red language for when she finally lost her virginity?

 

"What? Meika, what are you-"

 

"Saylor, your 'picture' is all over Facebook," she repeated although this time the message sunk in. The way she emphasized 'picture' was enough for me to clue in. My heart dropping into my stomach and my hands suddenly shaking, I lunged for the laptop that was resting at the foot of my bed.

 

No. No, this has to be... be some bad dream! Worst nightmare, definately not true. Nope, never true. She's just messing with you, I thought as I logged into my Facebook page.

 

 I didn't check to see if I was breathing, if my heart was beating, when I saw the notification. I was tagged in a picture. My shaking fingers scrolling slowly to the top of the page, I clicked on it. Bile rose in my throat, and my eyes stung with tears. Yep, it was me alright. Naked, posing for that charming boy, the one who tagged me on Facebook. And that, sadly, was how I became That Girl.

How I Met That Charming Boy

 

Before

 

Emma, Meika, and I had met That Charming Boy at a party. Frankie tried to flirt with a snobby girl, who just ignored him; Emma giggled; Meika played innocent and watched in, what I swore was rehearsed, horror as amber Jack Daniels dripped down That Charming Boy's stubbled, not-a-boy-but-not-quite-a-man neck; I played hard to get. Todd Fisher liked the chase, almost as much as he liked the kill.

 

It sounds bloody, 'the kill', and maybe, at first, it was. We tore at each other's throat with banter and zealous make-out sessions. We pretended to hate each other, although I felt a little thrill crawl around in my stomach whenever he made a comment about how I looked or smelled or tasted. Maybe that was the first red flag.

 

Todd and I didn't hang out, and fall in love like sappy teenagers in a Lifetime movie. Or, at least, he didn't. Nope. We just made out, regularly. At first, it was kind of exciting and fun. At first, I felt like I was on top of the world. At first, being a booty call wasn't all that bad.

 

Sure, it stung like a bad razor cut when I saw him with another girl, who draped herself around him quite like the way I did. And yes, I cried a few times, for all you who are just dying to know.

 

I had never had sex with anyone before Todd. See, not everything you hear is true. At my school, I had a four-way with a teacher, the MVP on the wrestling team, and two stoners who had a couple of blunts that we put to good use. Ha-ha! Who comes up with this-- excuse my French-- shit? Probably Missy Crenshaw, although for what reasons I wasn't exactly sure.

 

I was labeled a slut, for hooking-up with Todd Fisher, the guy everyone wanted to bang. It's not like I slept with him after that first party, and yet I couldn't count on my hands how many girls I had heard 'wanting to have a few go's with him', their words not mine.

 

I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Okay, back to the party.

 

So, here we were, dancing at some lame party and wondering when life would get exciting when BAM! He enters the room. Anticlimactically, no one  else really seemed to notice him. But I did. I wondered how someone couldn't. I wanted to scream at the swell of grinding girls and drunk guys that surrounded him, 'Hello?! Do you not see the definition of perfection trying to get through your disgusting sea of cest and sex appeal?!'

 

He had these viciously cold, ice-blue eyes that made you feel like you were staring into the Arctic Ocean. They were almost grey. I wanted to just drown in the Arctic Ocean from then on. His skin was golden, sprinkled with sandy hair. And, ugh, his hair was like fucking sunshine!

 

And Sunshine Hair, later dubbed That Charming Boy, later dubbed Todd Fisher, was making his way towards us. I was kind of freaking out... okay, majorly freaking out. I turned to Emma, who was talking to Harry Frey, her crush since seventh grade.

 

"Emma! See Hottie at six o'clock? Is he looking at me? Is he coming over-"

 

She looked over my shoulder, before her eyes locked onto him. Blanching, she began stuttering. "Um, Saylor-"

 

"Shit! Does my hair look okay-?"

 

"You look fine," a deep, gravelly voice said from behind me. Squeezing my eyes shut in disbelief, I progressed to mentally curse myself. I felt my face flame but turned to face my self-confidence assailant. His hair did look like sunshine. Those grey eyes flickered down to my raggedy jeans and t-shirt before he said, "Although you look a little... underdressed."

 

My brain went on auto-pilot. After struggling through a few um's and uh's, I finally managed, "How sweet. Is that how you greet everyone you just meet?" The sarcasm in my voice was my natural defense mechanism, although when it came to things like Todd Fisher I felt like a flopping fish stranded on a dry dock.

 

"Just the cute ones," he shrugged. I rolled my eyes, pretending not to swoon on the inside. First rule to being a bitch: don't be all mushy 'Aww, you said I'm cute!'. It clashes with the whole sarcastic, intimidating image... but in Todd's case it was perfectly acceptable.

 

"Oh, I'm cute?"

 

"Sure," he chuckled, before turning away from me and giving Frankie the inevitable bro hug. Great... Frankie, my brother's best friend, knew Sunshine Hair. I wanted to crawl under a rock. Teasingly, Sunshine Hair punched Frankie's shoulder, and gave me a look that made my legs quiver and loins heat up. "Frankie, why didn't you tell me your sister and her friends were such babes?"

 

Meika raised a brow, partially in disbelief and partially in admittance.  Frankie chuckled, his ebony curls bouncing in the process, and shook his head. "Nah, man. Emma is the definition of virgin-"

 

"Hey," Emma yelped, her shoulder length blond hair held back by a 'not pink, Saylor. Peach. Peach!' headband that gave you a headache if you looked for an inappropriately long amount of time. It was almost a blinding shade of 'peach! Jesus, Saylor, learn your colors!'.

 

"-and my sister is... well, my sister. Saylor here though," he grinned, clapping a hand onto my shoulder, "is a tough bitch."

 

"Although," Meika said tossing those ebony curls I was immensely envious of, "I do love a good compliment."

 

Sunshine Hair grinned, his eyes flickering between the two of us. He looked as though he were trying to decide something. From me-- not quite hazel, not quite brown eyes, dirty blonde hair, slightly sunburned skin-- to Meika-- bright green eyes that left you speechless, enviable glossy black curls, and flawless olive skin. Something shifted in his eyes, something almost predatory, that made his Artic Ocean pools darken. He then, as though finally making a decision, turned towards me, his plump pink lips pulling into a smile

 

"Saylor... it's different. I like it," he smiled, leaning closer. I smelled like sweat and tanning lotion, from when Meika, Emma, and I had layed out in Emma's pool earlier that day. My makeup was probably melting down my face. And yet, Sunshine Hair was flirting. He held out a strong, calloused hand and put on that charming smile once again. "I'm Todd. Todd Fisher."

How My Best Friend's Brother Became a Friend

 

Before

 

"Saylor, Todd isn't exactly a good guy-"

 

"He's perfect, Frankie! Why hadn't I met him sooner," I cried, slapping his arm playfully. It was after the party. After Todd asked for my number; after Emma threw up on the rug of the host's; after Meika grew bored and dragged me from Todd; after Frankie struck out with Kim Hammers... for the fifth time.

 

Frankie, the only one in any condition to drive, had already dropped Emma and Meika off at home, leaving the two of us to sit in awkward silence as I dreamed of Todd Fisher. Saylor Fisher. Leaning into my open palm, my eyes sparkling even in the dark night, I let my cheek press against the cool glass of Frankie's Jeep. Todd Fisher... too perfect.

 

"I'm just saying, he has a history. I don't want you to get hurt," he insisted, giving me an almost brotherly look. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

 

"Please