THE BAD BOY & ME

CHAPTER ONE: MEET THE NEIGHBOURS. “Emma you’re going to be late for school,” my father called out from the living room. “I’m coming dad,” I replied back from my bedroom, as she tried to hide my stash of magazines I had under the bed. My father would be so cross if he saw it. He hated anything that distracted me from my studies. It was the first day of senior year in high-school. I couldn’t wait for senior year to be over, then college so I could be far away from home as possible, especially from my father. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my father but sometimes he could be overbearing. By sometimes, I meant every .....single .....time. My father was very strict with me. Some might say because he was a politician and he had an image to uphold. He expected the very best for me. I lost my mum when I was five. She was hit by a drunk driver. I don’t remember much of her, only that she always sang me a lullaby before I went to bed. After my Mum died, my dad became extra strict on me. He didn’t let me go anywhere or do anything without his consent. I guess he was scared of losing me too. I had certain rules I had to follow. Growing up I wasn’t allowed to do certain things that was normal for a child. He didn’t even let me to go to sleepovers!!! The pain of seeing my mates chatting about all the fun they had during sleepovers, but I just stood there unable to relate. He made sure I was never late to school, had straight A’s and acted well in public. He made sure I was his perfect child. At 17 and in my senior year of high school, I wasn’t allowed to drink, smoke, go for parties, or see R-rated movies. Worst of all I wasn’t even permitted to date, or bring guys home. I remember turning down several guys proposals on dates because I didn’t want to disappoint my father. I looked at my reflection through the 7foot mirror in my bedroom. I was wearing a blazer, a black turtleneck top styled with a plaid skirt, long stocking and boots. I tied my long brown hair which hanged a little above my waist perfectly into a bun and adjusted my thick glasses. I hated dressing like this. It made me look like a nerdy middle schooler. Freshmen even dressed better than this. Girls my age wore revealing shirts, tight jeans or shorts to school. But my father wouldn’t let me dress that way. “You dress the way you want to be addressed”, my father had always said. ......and I wasn’t the type of girl to go against my father’s wishes. I walked down the stairs and into the living room. “It’s 7am,”my father scolded picking up his briefcase as he walked to the front door and I followed suit. “But school isn’t starting till 8, why are you making a fuss about it,” I replied nonchalantly, closing the door behind me. I should have known better. Now, I will have to hear a three hours lecture on the importance of punctuality and how it affects my college application. My father was about to speak when we saw a figure move towards the opposite house. Someone jumped over the fence, ran across the bushes and climbed up to the room facing directly opposite mine. Maybe it’s a burglar?, I thought. My father and I walked over to the front porch of the house. He knocked on the neighbour’s door continuously. A wearily looking woman in her early forties opened the door. She was wearing hospital scrubs and her black hair flowed down her shoulders. “Hi,” she greeted looking at us like we were some kind of disturbance. “Sorry to disturb you this morning,” my father began “But I couldn’t help to notice someone jumping over your fence and climbing up that window,” he said pointing at the direction the intruder followed. “It must be my son,” the woman replied massaging her temple with her hand. “Bradly,” she screamed at the top of her voice while resting on the door. There was no reply at first “Bradly,” she called out again her tone higher than before. “I’m sleeping mum,” Bradly replied from what should be his bedroom. I chuckled a little bit. “Come down here young man, the neighbors saw you sneak into the house,” After few minutes of waiting, Bradly walked down the stairs to the front of the door. And my jaw dropped when I saw him. He was drop-dead gorgeous and I couldn’t help but feast my eyes on him. Bradly was tall, well built and handsome, he had an athletic body which showed from how his muscles were always flexing through the tank top he was wearing. He had a curly brown hair and ocean blue eyes. His face was flawless and I think his best features was his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders. “You must be the neighbors,” Bradly said leaning against the wall as he looked down at my father and I. He was really tall, about 6 feet, three inches tall. “I’m Bradly and stay the f**k out of my life,” he said before walking away, leaving us stunned. “Teenagers,” his mother sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I have one of my own,” Mr Miller said tapping me on the shoulder. “But she’s more respectful than yours and more presentable too, have you considered taking yours to a therapist?’ “Great dad, tell the tired woman who is on her way to save lives that she isn’t raising her teenage son well”. “Have you considered taking me to a therapy after this?” I thought, a little ashamed of my dad. “I’m sorry sir but I have a busy day at the hospital and I’m not going to stand here and watch you teach me how to train my son,” she said and banged the door in our face. Well I expected nothing less. My father sharply turned to me, his face stern. “I never want to see you talking to that boy” he said sternly as we walked to the car. I stopped and glanced up at Bradly’s window, he was looking down at me with his middle finger raised up. There was something about him, I thought as I sat in the car. Something that wanted me to see him again.