Beautiful Mess

Chapter One

In hindsight this probably wasn't my greatest hour. I'm going to be grounded for life. I'm going to be suspended for an undefined amount of time. And I most probably will have destroyed my chances of getting in to Brown. But damn it feels good.

The cold winds nip at the bare skin of my legs. I fight to keep my dignity as my skirt is whipped in all directions. I don't know where we're going or how long it takes to get to and as uncomfortable as this is, I'm going to enjoy it.

The bike slows down and the engine cuts out. I pause for a second before taking off the helmet. I can see him staring through the shield. I tug the tight helmet off; I can now understand why sometimes he just doesn't bother. It is somewhat stifling. I shake out my hair, for all the good it will do, it feels flat against my head. His is the opposite. Left unprotected it is even more wild and unruly. I resist the urge the tame it with my fingers tips

I glance around at our surroundings. We're parked up on an ordinary looking street outside an ordinary looking house. Nothing big, nothing fancy but nice and respectable. Smaller houses, not like the ones found in my neighbours. God I sound so stuck up. There's nothing wrong with these houses. He's starting to look at me strangely, one eyebrow cocked and I realise my internal monologue on the surroundings has kept me quite for a good minute.

He climbs off the belt and takes the helmet from me. "I need to get out this uniform." With his free hand he rummages in his bag, eventually pulling out a set of keys. "You coming?"

My rebelliousness has slowed my reactions I swear. It takes me a moment to realise we must be sat outside his house. "This is where you live?" I sound ridiculous.

No, I just have keys to few select houses. I'm the bad boy remember?" He smirks at me, taking my hand and helping me off the bike. "What were you expecting? Some rundown studio apartment on the bad side of town?"

I can feel myself blushing so duck my head, creating a nice shield of hair while I compose myself. That is exactly what I'd be expecting. "Of course not." I lie, badly. "I just didn't expect this... I don't know what I expected…" I'm turning into a mumbling fool. "I guess I just never expected to see where you lived." I tell him honestly.

He shrugs like he always suspected the day he led me to his front door would come. He follows the slight cracked path to the front door and unlocks the faded blue door. I rest gently against his bike, drop my bag and start drumming my fingers on the seats.

"Well are you coming in or just going to hang around outside?"

I had assumed that I was just to wait for him but I grab my bag and wander up the path after him. He stands to one side, letting me enter first. This is awkward. More so than his first time through my front door. It was quite. There was no sign of life. Where were his parents? Did he have any brothers or sisters? The door clicks shut behind me and he slides past me. Only then I realise I'm still stood in the doorway.

I take a moment to glance around the living room. There's a flat screen television in the corner to my right with an Xbox next to and games and controllers strewn around. Angled towards the television in the centre is a large grey sofa; this is where he tosses his bag as he walks towards the room to my left. I edged towards the sofa and took a seat next to his bag. The usual collection of family photos hung on the wall. All of him with a older woman who's long dark hair matched his in a wild, curled manner. I assume it's his mom. A stereo system behind me has a collection of cds piled next to it and above it three shelves of records. Leaving my bag next to his, I go over to them, reaching up to flick through the careful. It's incredibly similar to my own collection, including what appears to be the complete back catalogue of Beatles albums.

"Here." I jump back, I hadn't heard him come back into the living room. He's smiling and holding a glass of orange juice. "It's the only thing we've got in at the moment."

"These yours?" I ask, taking the glass and motioning to the records.

"The cds are mine. The records are my mom's."

"Nice collection." I take a sip of my orange juice and glance awkwardly around. Things are never usually this uncomfortable between us. I'm wondering where his mom is now. And who he lives here with.

"She's at work right now." It's like he's reading my mind. He steps around me and goes to the second of the doors on the back wall, by a steep looking staircase. "I won't bother with a tour. Kitchen," he points to the room he just came from. "Living room. Up stairs is my mom's room and bathroom. And here," He opens the door next to him, "is my room." He steps inside, leaving me stood by the records. "I won't bite. You can come in."

I enter his room just as he's removing his shirt. The muscles in his back flex and ripple. He turns to face me for a moment before grabbing the black t-shirt that is lying on his bed. I avert my eyes, staring downwards at the crumpled white shirt on the floor. I am so thankful he changed into jeans before I'd entered. When I lift my eyes he just doing up his belt buckle.

"You wanna take that trip to the beach now?" He is sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at me with the dark eyes.

I look down at what I'm wearing. "This isn't really beach attire." Although admittedly it is not as bad as wearing a prom dress to the beach.

He chuckles slightly and gets up, "Let's get you home to change then." He half way to the door before I've taken in what he's said.

"Wait!" he stops and stares at me, utterly confused. "I can't go home. My dad will kill me."

"So is your long term plan to survive with nothing but a school uniform? Not that I'm complaining."

I reach to smack his cocked eyebrow face, I know he's joking but now isn't the time. Before I reach his face, he catches my wrist. "Calm down. My mom'll have something you can borrow." He disappears up the stairs before I can object.

This is awkward. Very awkward. You can't borrow clothes off some guy's mom, who you've never met. And when you have a somewhat complicated relationship with their son. Can you?

"Here." He's getting very good at appearing quietly behind me. He hands me a ball of black denim. "They're really old. I swear she never thrown out any clothes from her youth." I hold them up in front of me. Admittedly they are exactly the sort of thing I would wear. And they look like they would fit. "Would you like me to go the living room while you change?" he smirks at me.

"It's fine. I'll use your bathroom." He has a small ensuite bathroom. Just a toilet, sink and a shower cramped together. I close the door behind me but don't lock it. I wriggle my feet out of my boots and let me skirt drop to the floor. The jeans slide on easily. They fit perfectly around the waist; they're just a little short in the length. I yank my boots back on and once over the jeans you'd never know they weren't mine. I stuff my skirt into my bag followed by my tie and step back into his bedroom.

"Hmm…" that's not exactly the response I'd hope for. Not that I wanted any kind of response from him.

"Thanks. Way to make a girl feel good."

"It's the shirt."

"Sorry, but I have no plans on removing it."

He looks at me blankly for a second before going to his drawers on the back wall. He rummages around in the top one for a moment, pulling out various t-shirts before stuffing them back in. he pauses for a second, a shirt in hand then turns and throws it at me. "Put that on."

In my hand is an old, faded grey Filthy Souls t-shirts. I turn my back to him and unbutton the skirt. I can't tell if he's watching me a not but I drop the shirt quickly and waste no time in pulling the t-shirt over my head. It's obviously been shrunk in the wash, it fits me snugly. I pull out my hair from the collar and let it fall down my back. I turn back to him but he's not there. I grab my bag, stuffing the shirt in there too and head back to the living room.

He's resting against the sofa now. "Thought you'd want the privacy."

"Thanks."

"Beach then?"