Elena

There's a hostile noise that abruptly breaks me from my slumber. Reaching out from the covers, I repeatedly beat the button on my alarm clock. It finally falls silent, peeking my eyes out from under the blankets, I see that it's 6am.

Eyeing my room, I imagine what can be done with the empty white walls. Perhaps a collage board with pictures of me with my mom, dad, and Rachel. Maybe some posters with encouraging words... There is already a vanity, so no need for a mirror. A light shade of blue, or even a light shade of pink for the color, ought to look nice. Letting my mind ponder for a moment, thinking of all the possibilities for my new room, I lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, it's 6:13am.

Groaning and begrudgingly climbing out of bed like a toddler, I drag myself to the bathroom for a shower – hopefully it helps me wake up.

After washing, combing, and blow drying my hair, I decide to leave it down, but put a hairband on my wrist, just in case. Taking a moment in my towel a thought sprinkles in the back of my mind: this is as good as it will get for me. I am not the prettiest of girls out there. My figure is petite, but I have some curves on me – not enough apparently – according to some. My face is feminine and soft, but I don't have those high cheek bones or naturally long lashes, nor the plush lips like what boys seem to like... In my eyes and in the eyes of my last school... I am average, to say the least.

The neighbor's image pops in my mind. The way he gazed at me; it was like he had a sweet tooth and I was the only piece of candy within a twenty-mile radius. The thought makes me weak in the knees. Slapping myself for something so silly, I shake my head as though it will rid the memory. It was dark out; he wasn't sure what he saw. He was drunk. If he really saw what I look like, especially sober, he wouldn't have acted that way. I'll just keep telling myself that.

Swinging the door open, I run into a white wall. Only, it wasn't a wall, it was a solid chest. Looking up, I see him. My neighbor is here, in my house. What in the world is he doing here? I immediately grab ahold of my towel so tight; my knuckles turn white. His hands grab a hold of the door frame on either side and leans towards me.

There are no words. I have no words, my brain completely shut off. The only thing I am capable of is staring at him like he's a mystical creature. My eyes dart to the piece of skin closest to me. There is a small black cross tattoo on his right hand between the space of his thumb and index finger.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he says coolly. I look up and meet his eyes. He has very bright green eyes. So beautiful. His gaze sweeps over my face. A small smirk is forming on those perfect pink lips. His nose is slender, but has a little bump in it, it's probably been broken a time or two; he still looks magnificent. Staring at him like a crazy person, I am frozen in my spot. His regard is too strong. My cheeks are burning a bright red out of feeling so self-conscious. Suddenly a warm, large, calloused hand gently touches my chin then pushes my mouth closed.

"Don't want you drooling again kitten." His voice was like velvet with that southern drawl. I begin to blink uncontrollably, and his smirk widens. Good lord he has dimples. His thumb is suddenly caressing my jaw line. The soft touch sends strong sparks through my body and I can't help but let out a whispered whimper. Those green eyes don't move from mine. For some reason, I didn't even care about personal space, my brain is mush.

This situation in the doorway is the longest few seconds of my life, until my dad comes down the hall calling my name. The man drops his hand from my face, as he leans into the left side of the door frame. His arms cross over his chest making his muscles and tattoos dance – not that I noticed. It takes a minute for my heart, mind, and body to come down from the high he just gave me. It becomes a lot easier as soon as I see a smug smile on his face. He knows what he does to me – wonderful. I roll my eyes as my dad appears.

"Elena! What are you doing? You'll be late sweetie. Oh! Have you met Mike Gilbert?" He asks pointing at the beautiful man to my left.

"Uh...yeah" I choke. I should tell him we met outside last night while I was trying to coherently yell at him for waking me up at an ungodly hour in my bathrobe, but I decide to swallow that. Of course, it's no better like this in my wet towel. My dad doesn't seem to care. That shocks me.

"Oh Good!" My Dad exclaims. "He'll be taking you to school this morning. He came on by and introduced himself. He's in your grade. Transfer student, you said?"

He and I look over to who is apparently Mike. My Dad continues, but I don't hear the rest. Regretfully, gawking at this man has become my new hobby.

Dragging my eyes from his shoes to his face, I take in his leather boots, low hanging black jeans which have a hole in the knee, a white t-shirt leaves just enough for the imagination as I can see the slight definitions of his strong chest as his arms are crossed over it. There are a couple of dark tattoos under his shirt, on his thick biceps, and forearms that also have some veins popping out.

He even has a tattoo on his left hand that is resting on his right bicep. Is that a verse? Looks like he has scar tissue on his knuckles... Does he get in fights a lot? He has a nice strong looking neck, which leads me to the face that I remember all too well from last night... It takes a moment for me to register those bright green eyes looking directly into mine. As he grins, I look away as fast as possible feeling the heat take over my face once again. He noticed me checking him out and his 'oh so knowing smirk' is getting wider as the painful seconds tick on by.

Why is my Dad so keen on him? Didn't they only just meet?

"Is that ok with you sweetie?" Dad's voice brings me back.

"What?" I ask, clearly not paying attention.

He repeats himself, "Is it ok that he takes you to school? I have to head to work, so I can't take you. I really don't want you walking around by yourself just yet."

Stuttering, I manage to agree, and my dad slaps my shoulder, saying, "atta girl, now go get dressed, you don't want to be late." He shouts as he walks down the hall leaving me to have to confront Mike alone.

Luckily, for my sanity, the mountainous beautiful man pushes himself off the wall with his shoulder and says, "You heard the man, get dressed." He gives me a wink as he strides down the hall. My heart is fluttering to fly in my chest.

I settle for dark skinny jeans and a light maroon off the shoulder sweater. The outdoor temperature is warm, but I know the classes will have air conditioning. The thoughts of a Michigan winter run through my mind and a shiver compulsively shakes my body. I'm glad I won't have to experience another one of those any time soon. Grabbing my backpack, a few notebooks, and my pencils, I strategically place them in the appropriate compartments in my bag.

Stalling some more, I sit at my desk with my mirror and lightly apply some makeup. Just some cherry Chapstick and mascara ought to do the trick.

"I gotta go Elena! I'll see you tonight ok – love you!" I hear my dad shout from the front door.

"Love you too!" I yell back. Great. It's just me and Mike now. It's bothering me that my father is so comfortable with the man after just meeting. The notion surprises me with what Mike looks like and everything he portrays. He looks like the kind of man that my dad would want me to run for the hills from. My father's new chummy acquaintance is someone that he would shoot if he knew he was interested in me.

Maybe that's what it is. My dad knows for a fact he isn't interested in me. He certainly is giving me mixed signals then. Maybe he's a player. He's probably just petting his ego with how my body involuntarily responds to him. I roll my eyes. He's no one I should concern myself with. He's just my hot, arrogant, egotistical, loud, underage drinking neighbor who is giving me a ride to school...