Accidentally Yours

CHAPTER FIVE

8:23pm

I knocked on the Hayes family’s front door a total of three times before I took a step back. I adjust my overnight bag’s strap on my shoulder so that it does not dig into the body part as much. The minutes feel like hours as I impatiently wait for Stella to unlock the door. I raise my fist to knock on the door once again only to cease my movement when that very door swings open. It is only when the door is fully open that I wish that I crawled through an opened window instead. I quickly bring my hands up to shield my eyes from the utterly horrifying sight that is in front of me.

“Ew, Easton! Put on a shirt!” I scold the male twin. No one wants to see him, of all people, shirtless—And I'm at the top of the list of not wanting to see it.

The male twin groans with annoyance, “You’re so f*****g annoying.”

“And you’re f*****g disgusting!” Wasting not a second more talking to the moody eighteen year old boy, I push past him and into the house.

I get the feeling that he allows me to do this because of how easily I was able to push past him. Easton is very muscular, not to mention he is six feet tall. I am only five foot seven inches. I shouldn’t be able to push past him that easily. Anyway, I pass through the kitchen and make my way towards the staircase. I quickly ascended said staircase. Once I reach Stella's closed bedro- om door, I place my hand on the doorknob and twist the knob.

I practically run face first into the door as it does not budge one bit.

What the hell?!

I try twisting the doorknob again and soon realize that it is locked. I grow confused as to why her bedroom door is locked. She doesn’t usually lock her bedroom door. I bring my free hand up to knock on the door.

Around thirty seconds goes by with no response. So, I knock again and again and again. In fact, I continue to knock until an annoyed voice interrupts me.

“Stop it!” Easton’s loud voice booms. “She's showering—Do you not hear the water?!”

I bring my ear closer to Stella's bedroom door and listen. I have to strain my ears in order to hear Stella’s voice singing along to a rap song that I am unfamiliar with. The sound of the shower water hitting the bathtub muffles her voice a bit.

I scoff as I remove my ear from the door, “I knew that.”

He rolls his eyes at me before making his way to his bedroom, “Imbecile.” he mutters under his breath.

“Asshole.” I mutter back.

I am unable to say anything else as my cell phone dings from a new text message. I glance down at the illuminated cell phone screen while I swiftly walk towards the staircase. I descend the staircase, checking the text message. The text message that I received is from an unknown phone number.

Unknown: Hey, this is Emma! Do you want to hang out after school tomorrow? I smile at the nice text.

Me: Totally! I respond as I plop down on the large couch in the living room.

This is fine.

I will just text her until Stella comes down from her shower.

9:17pm

Emma and I have been texting back and forth for about twenty minutes now—In the last twenty minutes I have learned that Emma has been a cheerleader for ten years. She did not begin cheering for our school until her sophomore year when she transferred high schools. She has a younger sister who lives with her workaholic stepfather, her favorite color is light pink, and her favorite meal to eat is a caesar salad with a side of grapes—green grapes to be exact.

Emma has asked me about what types of guys that I like and what I look for in a significant other. I am in the middle of thinking of an answer to Emma’s question when Stella strolls into the room with fluffy pajamas on.

I take notice of her black hair that is still damp from her shower.

“Who are you texting?” my best friend asks, taking a seat in the soft recliner near the couch.

My thumbs continue to fly across my screen as I answer, “Emma.” I do not miss the heavy sigh that falls from Stella’s lips. I cease my erratic texting and glance over at her. She is not looking in my direction, instead holding a large black remote control and using it to change the television channel. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

Her eyes stay connected to the television, “What do you mean?” She plays dumb.

“You sighed when I mentioned Emma's name.” I point out. “Why?”

“You haven’t even known her for twelve hours and you two are already pretty close.” she pauses for a moment. “I don't know. It just feels like she's trying to take you away from me.” I frown at my best friend's confession.

“I promise that Emma is not, cannot, and will not steal me away from you.” I give her a reassuring smile. “You were my first friend and no one can take that away from us, Stells.”

Stella, finally looking at me, nods. “I believe you.” she admits. “I just don’t trust Emma as far as I can throw the bitch.” Considering that Stella has been both a base and a flyer in cheer, she can probably throw Emma pretty far.

Tuesday, August 11th

12:00am

I jump awake from my deep slumber. A deep inhale wracks my body before an exhale follows it. I roll over onto my stomach and reach one of my hands past the end of Stella’s bed. The tips of my fingers gently drag along my best friend’s fluffy carpet until they graze against a smooth rectangular object. My hand grasps said object and brings it up towards my face. Albeit being momentarily blinded by the bright screen, I am able to make out the time being twelve o’clock in the morning. To make matters worse, my stomach growls so loudly that it pains me. Stella and I were downstairs watching animated movies in the living room for two and a half hours before eventually coming up to her bedroom because we were too exhausted to watch another movie.

I slowly and carefully climb off of the full-sized mattress so that I do not wake the snoring raven-haired girl beside me. It takes a few minutes, but I eventually end up standing up from the bed. A sigh of relief exits my mouth when I realize that my efforts to not wake her up were successful. I make my way towards her closed bedroom door, quietly closing it behind me once I am in the upstairs hallway. I practically sleepwalk to the downstairs kitchen, not even remembering getting here.

As I enter through the doorway I am met with the sight of a shirtless Easton. He is scrolling through his cell phone while he leans back against the edge of the marbled countertop. I ignore him as I make my way over towards the refrigerator, too tired to comment on this. Expect- ing to find my leftover pizza in the stainless steel refrigerator, I am pleasantly surprised to find that my box of pizza is still in there. I grab the pizza box from the shelf that it is on and pull it out of the cold refrigerator, allowing the heavy steel to swing shut behind me. I waited until I reached the kitchen island to lift open the lid of the cardboard pizza box—Unfortunately, what greeted me were five pizza crusts with bite marks on them.

You have got to be f*****g kidding me! What kind of sick joke is this?!

“Are you f*****g serious, Easton?!” I exclaim, looking over at him.

Easton does not hide his annoyance as he lifts his cold grey eyes from his cell phone to me. “What are you bitching about now, Montgomery?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I know that you ate my leftover pizza, asshole.” I hissed. “You’re the only person in this house who doesn’t eat pizza crust.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “I ate your shitty pizza—So what?”

“Why would you eat it? You knew that it was mine!”

Easton shrugs once again, “I was hungry.” I ball my fists tightly so that I do not punch him in his face.

Believe me when I say that I really want to punch him.

“You are by far the most frustrating person that I have ever met in my entire life!” What makes this situation more frustrating is that Easton smirks at my frustration.

He leans off of the counter before saying, “Relax, Montgomery, it’s just a pizza.”

“Yeah, my pizza.” I remind him.

My eyes follow the shirtless male as he slowly makes his way over to me. His smirk does not waver or twitch as he does this. He soon stands in front of me, forced to look down due to our height difference. He is standing so close to me that I can feel the heat rolling off of his body in waves. His eyes trail down from my eyes to my chest. Unfortunately, because I took my hoodie off in the middle of Stella and I’s movie marathon—this leaves me in just a fitted tank top that leaves very little to the imagination. I assume that Easton takes note of this judging by his amused facial expression.

His eyes soon meet mine again. “Cry about it, Montgomery.” I watch with an angered expression as he strolls out of the kitchen.

It is only when he exits the kitchen that I realize how fast my heart is beating.

Ugh, I f*****g hate Easton Hayes with a burning passion!