Status: Being Written
Badass Rich Girl + Cocky Rich Boy = Disaster
Flying From Misery, Translation: RUN AWAY!
It started out crazily, my 18th birthday. I was so happy two years ago, when my parents bought me a car last year, and a full set of diamond and onyx jewelry with a necklace, watch, bracelet, earrings, and anklet the year before. Don't get me wrong- they're extremely rich, so they buy me these things without much difficulty, but I don't take them for granted or anything. I try my best to do what they tell me to, but there are times where I get so pissed off at their ridiculously high standards that I just scream at them.
So when today, after having a party in the damn morning because they insist on it not being at night, they make me dress up to go to an expensive restaurant, and a rather old-fashioned setting. Great. There's a ballroom, which I don't like because I'm not that good at formal dancing. There are beautiful chandeliers, which I think would be better suited as taken apart and sold with the proceedings to charity. I don't agree with some of the over-rated extravagance of diamond decorations (er, except for jewelry and things like that), although I do love my LV (Louis Vuitton), Dior, Chanel, D&G, Prada, well you get the point. Okay, well honestly that's mostly what my parents have but I have maybe one or two of all of those. I don't think clothes should be so damn expensive, even though I'll probably become one of those designers when I finish attending an art university.
*Night time*
I slid into a beautiful new BCBG dress, and pulled a thin Burberry jacket over it with Marc Jacob pumps and grab my favorite purse before running downstairs.
My parents hate that I bounce around in my heels like a kangaroo, and ofcourse my Playboy purse that I'm carrying. I slid into my black Ferrari, with a big Coach duffel in the trunk with another big LV bag. Both were holding all of my favorite clothes and everything...I just had a bad feeling about tonight- my parents usually didn't force me to do things on my birthdays, and never have. But they were so demanding today.
I went in, and greeted all of the guests accordingly, thanking them all for the generous gifts now accumulating in a corner. Being under my parents' scrutiny all the while, with them beside me. We all ate, everyone walking around and taking from a massive buffet table while talking. I ate about a million little chocolate cakes politely while talking to everyone, then danced with men ranging from around 60 (all immaculately dressed and looking 20 years younger than their actual age, but still) to well, children of 10 that insisted that I should dance with them too. With my parents' looks of disapproval that I disregarded, I spun the little boys around, then paired them off with the girls that had come and huddled shyly in a corner. My ridiculous parents were being so judgmental while I was finally an adult now!
I made small talk during the more formal dances with some men closer to my age at twenty (I like older guys- they're not so immature, ok?), but soon was given champagne along with the other adults in the vicinity. It fell silent, music ceasing, as my father strode onto the stage and held his glass up. "I'd like to toast to my daughter not only for her birthday today, but also her new engagement to Kyle Morales." He had a smile pasted to his face with his wife, and my step-mother Sandra smiling beside him. I was furious, and apparently Kyle was too.
He seemed more calm about it though, like he knew in advance, while I was furious, and contracted my stomach muscles until they burned. Honestly, it was the only way I could hold my temper in public. I pasted a small but convincing smile onto my face, saying 'excuse me' and 'thank you' while making my way from the back of the room to the front. I gave a sharp nod to Carelle, my friend and maid/servant/ex-chauffeur/assistant/workout partner. She began to take the wrapped boxes and walking them quickly to my car, knowing where I hid my second key that she would slip into my trunk with the rest of the things. Luckily for me, most of the gifts were very small because, well, diamonds were small. I clicked my heels loudly as I walked onto the stage, regarding my father coldly as he gave me the warning look to 'be good'. I took the microphone, and said briefly, "Thank you all for coming tonight, and making my 'special day' so wonderful. I should be back momentarily after a quick talk with my parents over the arrangements. Please enjoy the rest of the night." I flashed a last dazzling, beautiful artificial smile before stalking out of the room with perfect posture and my two 'parents' on my heels. I saw Kyle and his parents edging after us as well, obviously with the idea that something was wrong. How could anything possibly be wrong?
Kyle was taller than me at 5'11, and extremely built because I'd seen him at the fitness center I often drag Carelle to with me. (Speaking of whom was now safely in the ballroom conversing with others in a dress I'd insisted she wear with a simple diamond necklace I had given her. She was only 21, for goodness' sake, and needed to have a life.) His dark, brown-black hair was gelled back in situations like this, but I'd seen it messy and spikey, and it was hot.
Still, I didn't like him. I hated the fact that all of the girls around us always drooled over him, always envied me for seeing him at these events, when they didn't even know how conceited he truly was. He was apparently too popular in highschool, because he certainly thought everyone should date him and that he was the best thing in the world. I completely disagree, and he also hated the fact that I'd refused to go with him to a club when both of our parents took us to Vegas for business. I turned on my dad and Sandra the second we were outside.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I'M IN A FUCKING DAMNED ARRANGED MARRIAGE?!" I screamed.
*Kyle's P.O.V.*
My stupid parentals told me about the engagement this morning. I completely wrecked three rooms, demolishing and smashing every piece of furniture to bits and broke a wall before barely calming down. But except for this, they've always given me everything I've ever wanted, so I'm not sure how I'm supposed to refuse. I followed Adree outside though; I wanted to see the look on her face when she found out. I still can't believe she'd refused to go out with me in Vegas that one time in the summer. Or that she just turned 18- my parents were the only ones that even knew. Everyone else thought she was turning 22, like me, but she pulled it off really well and seriously didn't look like it at all. She even graduated when she was 16, so actually only had two more years of college. I finished mine a year ago. My parents went out too, hoping that everything would be ok. As if- I'd seen her with a punching bag, and she had a LOT of anger she loved to take out on the thing too.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I'M IN A FUCKING DAMNED ARRANGED MARRIAGE?!" I heard her scream. Damn, that girl can swear,I thought.
"Watch your mouth," her father, Avery Burell, told her. "And calm down." He looked at my parents apologetically before looking at his enraged daughter again.
"YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN, BECAUSE I'M NOT DOING THIS SHIT!" She somehow managed to grab her jacket and bag and put it all on while walking out. It was hilarious how she had a Playboy symbol attached to her purse, even though it has LV printed in every color all over everywhere else. My parents' eyes were bulging out of their heads- apparently, they really thought that I was the only rebellious kid on the planet 'til now.
"Watch your mouth- and you have no choice. It's that or be on the streets for the rest of your life."
"I'm not doing it. If you say I'm nothing without you, you're insulting your own damn self by saying I didn't inherit any of your 'talents'. I'm not marrying him- you watch where I end up." She ran into her black Ferrari F430, which I didn't think was possible in 4 inch heels, but apparently she could do it. The next thing I knew, she'd started the engine and shut the door.
"KYLE!!!!!!!" my father screamed at me, and I was in my Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4 Spyder and after her. Actually, I'd seen her at a couple of street races before- she's actually beaten me a couple of times, but I usually won...with MORE damaged cars my parents would yell at me about of hours. She could street-fight pretty well too, but she usually just watched while I went out and beat the shit out of other people.
We were speeding, over double the speed limit into complete darkness at 2 a.m. in the morning while lights began to flicker out in all of the surrounding buildings- a massive blackout, and I knew that clouds covered the entire sky, explaining the lack of natural light. Great, it's going to storm soon, I thought. And both me and Adree sped of with our tinted windows matching the black sky.
We sped for five minutes or so, but covered a few miles in that time-frame. Lightning hit right where I saw Adree's car two seconds before the blinding flash screwed up my vision. "SHIT!"
So when today, after having a party in the damn morning because they insist on it not being at night, they make me dress up to go to an expensive restaurant, and a rather old-fashioned setting. Great. There's a ballroom, which I don't like because I'm not that good at formal dancing. There are beautiful chandeliers, which I think would be better suited as taken apart and sold with the proceedings to charity. I don't agree with some of the over-rated extravagance of diamond decorations (er, except for jewelry and things like that), although I do love my LV (Louis Vuitton), Dior, Chanel, D&G, Prada, well you get the point. Okay, well honestly that's mostly what my parents have but I have maybe one or two of all of those. I don't think clothes should be so damn expensive, even though I'll probably become one of those designers when I finish attending an art university.
*Night time*
I slid into a beautiful new BCBG dress, and pulled a thin Burberry jacket over it with Marc Jacob pumps and grab my favorite purse before running downstairs.
My parents hate that I bounce around in my heels like a kangaroo, and ofcourse my Playboy purse that I'm carrying. I slid into my black Ferrari, with a big Coach duffel in the trunk with another big LV bag. Both were holding all of my favorite clothes and everything...I just had a bad feeling about tonight- my parents usually didn't force me to do things on my birthdays, and never have. But they were so demanding today.
I went in, and greeted all of the guests accordingly, thanking them all for the generous gifts now accumulating in a corner. Being under my parents' scrutiny all the while, with them beside me. We all ate, everyone walking around and taking from a massive buffet table while talking. I ate about a million little chocolate cakes politely while talking to everyone, then danced with men ranging from around 60 (all immaculately dressed and looking 20 years younger than their actual age, but still) to well, children of 10 that insisted that I should dance with them too. With my parents' looks of disapproval that I disregarded, I spun the little boys around, then paired them off with the girls that had come and huddled shyly in a corner. My ridiculous parents were being so judgmental while I was finally an adult now!
I made small talk during the more formal dances with some men closer to my age at twenty (I like older guys- they're not so immature, ok?), but soon was given champagne along with the other adults in the vicinity. It fell silent, music ceasing, as my father strode onto the stage and held his glass up. "I'd like to toast to my daughter not only for her birthday today, but also her new engagement to Kyle Morales." He had a smile pasted to his face with his wife, and my step-mother Sandra smiling beside him. I was furious, and apparently Kyle was too.
He seemed more calm about it though, like he knew in advance, while I was furious, and contracted my stomach muscles until they burned. Honestly, it was the only way I could hold my temper in public. I pasted a small but convincing smile onto my face, saying 'excuse me' and 'thank you' while making my way from the back of the room to the front. I gave a sharp nod to Carelle, my friend and maid/servant/ex-chauffeur/assistant/workout partner. She began to take the wrapped boxes and walking them quickly to my car, knowing where I hid my second key that she would slip into my trunk with the rest of the things. Luckily for me, most of the gifts were very small because, well, diamonds were small. I clicked my heels loudly as I walked onto the stage, regarding my father coldly as he gave me the warning look to 'be good'. I took the microphone, and said briefly, "Thank you all for coming tonight, and making my 'special day' so wonderful. I should be back momentarily after a quick talk with my parents over the arrangements. Please enjoy the rest of the night." I flashed a last dazzling, beautiful artificial smile before stalking out of the room with perfect posture and my two 'parents' on my heels. I saw Kyle and his parents edging after us as well, obviously with the idea that something was wrong. How could anything possibly be wrong?
Kyle was taller than me at 5'11, and extremely built because I'd seen him at the fitness center I often drag Carelle to with me. (Speaking of whom was now safely in the ballroom conversing with others in a dress I'd insisted she wear with a simple diamond necklace I had given her. She was only 21, for goodness' sake, and needed to have a life.) His dark, brown-black hair was gelled back in situations like this, but I'd seen it messy and spikey, and it was hot.
Still, I didn't like him. I hated the fact that all of the girls around us always drooled over him, always envied me for seeing him at these events, when they didn't even know how conceited he truly was. He was apparently too popular in highschool, because he certainly thought everyone should date him and that he was the best thing in the world. I completely disagree, and he also hated the fact that I'd refused to go with him to a club when both of our parents took us to Vegas for business. I turned on my dad and Sandra the second we were outside.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I'M IN A FUCKING DAMNED ARRANGED MARRIAGE?!" I screamed.
*Kyle's P.O.V.*
My stupid parentals told me about the engagement this morning. I completely wrecked three rooms, demolishing and smashing every piece of furniture to bits and broke a wall before barely calming down. But except for this, they've always given me everything I've ever wanted, so I'm not sure how I'm supposed to refuse. I followed Adree outside though; I wanted to see the look on her face when she found out. I still can't believe she'd refused to go out with me in Vegas that one time in the summer. Or that she just turned 18- my parents were the only ones that even knew. Everyone else thought she was turning 22, like me, but she pulled it off really well and seriously didn't look like it at all. She even graduated when she was 16, so actually only had two more years of college. I finished mine a year ago. My parents went out too, hoping that everything would be ok. As if- I'd seen her with a punching bag, and she had a LOT of anger she loved to take out on the thing too.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I'M IN A FUCKING DAMNED ARRANGED MARRIAGE?!" I heard her scream. Damn, that girl can swear,I thought.
"Watch your mouth," her father, Avery Burell, told her. "And calm down." He looked at my parents apologetically before looking at his enraged daughter again.
"YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN, BECAUSE I'M NOT DOING THIS SHIT!" She somehow managed to grab her jacket and bag and put it all on while walking out. It was hilarious how she had a Playboy symbol attached to her purse, even though it has LV printed in every color all over everywhere else. My parents' eyes were bulging out of their heads- apparently, they really thought that I was the only rebellious kid on the planet 'til now.
"Watch your mouth- and you have no choice. It's that or be on the streets for the rest of your life."
"I'm not doing it. If you say I'm nothing without you, you're insulting your own damn self by saying I didn't inherit any of your 'talents'. I'm not marrying him- you watch where I end up." She ran into her black Ferrari F430, which I didn't think was possible in 4 inch heels, but apparently she could do it. The next thing I knew, she'd started the engine and shut the door.
"KYLE!!!!!!!" my father screamed at me, and I was in my Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4 Spyder and after her. Actually, I'd seen her at a couple of street races before- she's actually beaten me a couple of times, but I usually won...with MORE damaged cars my parents would yell at me about of hours. She could street-fight pretty well too, but she usually just watched while I went out and beat the shit out of other people.
We were speeding, over double the speed limit into complete darkness at 2 a.m. in the morning while lights began to flicker out in all of the surrounding buildings- a massive blackout, and I knew that clouds covered the entire sky, explaining the lack of natural light. Great, it's going to storm soon, I thought. And both me and Adree sped of with our tinted windows matching the black sky.
We sped for five minutes or so, but covered a few miles in that time-frame. Lightning hit right where I saw Adree's car two seconds before the blinding flash screwed up my vision. "SHIT!"
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Please subscribe and comment, then I'll update.~Andree