Engaged Before My First Date?!

“Kristiaaana!” My mother called, trying unsuccessfully to coax me out of my blue silk cocoon of blankets. Ever since I’ve been a child, my mom’s been trying to convince me of happy endings- even after her divorce when I was 12, I was supposed to believe I’d land a happy ending like Sleeping Beauty...except guess what?...SHE NEVER LETS ME FUCKING SLEEP IN! I hated being woken up in the morning- especially by a person, and annoying voices doing that just pissed me off for the day. In this case, more like warbling- like a toad.

“Go awaaaay!” I wailed back. “I get to sleep in on Saturday!” I yanked the covers harder over my head. Thank God for locked doors. My memory-impaired mother never could keep track of her keys. If I had the energy in the morning, I’d throw something.

“But you need to meet your fiancé!” Her voice pissed me off being perky and high-pitched, but her words just crossed the line. I sprung up in my bed like a Jack-in-the-box.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!” I screamed loudly, not caring if there were at least three people in the next room. I know I’m not freaking normal, and that they might happen to notice. I’m not doing this,I thought as I retied my hair into a messy bun with my scrunchie that I wore to bed. I rubbed my eyes and peeked out of my door, then slipped out and slammed my bathroom door when I only saw my mom there. They were probably in my living room. I started brushing my hair quickly- I could act like it, but I can’t look like a damn moron. I had tight Guess jeans on that I wore to bed- and good thing I wore a bra too, with my low v-neck AE black tee. That would have to work.

“Come on,” my mom whined from outside again, 15 minutes later. “You know that it’s rude to make people wait, and I have to do it all the time!!!” That was true, but who said I cared? I finished brushing my teeth, and washed my face before that. I took a deep breath, preparing for my next speech.

“ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?! I TURN 16 TOMORROW, AND THE DAY I’M FINALLY SUPPOSEDLY ALLOWED TO DATE, YOU DECIDE I’M GETTING MARRIED?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE GUY?! WHAT IF HE TURNS OUT TO BE A TOTAL ASSHOLE, HUH?! ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY HIS ASS THEN?! NOT TO MENTION IF HE’S UGLY!!!” I ranted, all on one breath. I know, I’m good.

“Kristiana, he’s cute- I promise!!” The answer to that was easy, and I could do it while applying mascara and curling my lashes and rubbing on lipgloss.

“REALLY?” I was totally being melodramatic and obnoxiously immature on purpose- making a scene for me was easy. “SORRY MOM, BUT I DON’T TRUST YOUR JUDGMENT! I MAY BE AN ASSHOLE MAGNET, BUT YOU CHOOSING FOR ME ISN’T ANY BETTER THAN THAT!” I ignored the shushing on the other side. I finished up, not looking totally sexy, but hot enough. I stretched, a couple dance and cheerleading moves. When she asked me loudly why I was bothering to get all “dressed-up” for him then, I answered sweetly “JUST CUZ IT’S FUN TO ACT LIKE A FUCKUP DOESN’T MEAN I HAVE TO LOOK LIKE ONE!”

She sighed and left again. I was going to have an equally loud online status in a minute…or longer. "ARG! At least she can’t annoy me about low-cut shirts right now,” I muttered irritatedly before stalking into the living room. “Kristiana, this is Mr. and Mrs. Demosaic. This is their son A.J.” I was surprised that the guy really wasn’t bad- brown eyes and dark, spiked hair with blonde highlights, a little skinny but muscled; he was also in jeans and a tight tee shirt. He looked like one of those popular guys, with a hot smirk and eyes… His mother was there, with straight dark brown hair past her shoulders. His dad was okay for an older guy, with still brown eyes and dyed-dark hair, but much bigger than his wife and son- and very tall, even sitting.

The dad gave me a nod, and the mom gave me a smile, saying “I'm Carla.” I smiled back at them, deciding that it wasn’t entirely fake since I wasn’t supposed to marry some ugly hippo, and replied “Call me Kristi”. I sat on my own corner of the couch across from them, with my mother on the other end in her *cough, MY OLD* jeans and a shirt from Vegas. I sighed in my mind- even with me constantly working to improve her wardrobe, some things never changed. “Does Dad know about this?”

“He’s fine with it,” my mother brushed it off briskly. “He should be at the wedding. You should go sit with your fiancé,” she added obnoxiously as she started talking to his parents about the wedding arrangements. I made a coughing noise, covering it with my left hand while pressing my right hand behind me flat on the couch to crack my knuckles. She was so gonna get it. A.J. heard it, and his gorgeously dimpled smirk appeared again. I looked away, hating that I always had a light, fluttery feeling in my stomach around guys like that- damnit, why am I such a sucker for guys with dimples?! He was on a loveseat, and sat back a little more with his legs spread apart and a suggestive smirk. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling with a God-help-me look, then went and sat between his legs, pretending to listen to the adults talk and looking very convincingly at them and sitting very straight when I stiffened and froze as arms encircled my waist and stomach and pulled me back against a strong chest. Ohhh shit. I had no doubt that I heated up at least ten or twenty degrees. And with my back to his chest, I was sure he could feel my heartbeat speed up while his played slow and steadily.

“Why don’t you take him to your room to talk?” my mom asked. She was pissing me off now, even more than screaming little kids. “Because, mother, there’s nowhere to sit.” I restrained myself with all of my energy not to scream in public or strangle her. Even a good bitch-slap was tempting right now. "Well, how about the dining room?” It had a table, with chairs, two massage chairs-which I hated because I can’t stand the things poking at me- and a TV. The couch was new, and the lacquer hadn't dried. She was oblivious to my hate and tension.

“Fine,” I stormed off to the adjoining room with no separating doors in between me and my horror of a mother. Since we just got kicked out, I was pretty sure the guy would follow me. If not, I could go and surf the internet freely. But when I sat down in the cheaper massage chair that I decided was only good for the heater, he sat on the other one beside me. I curled up comfortably, pulling my knees to my chest. “So…you know my name, I turn 16 tomorrow, on June 17th, my mom is pissing me the fuck off, I obviously swear, I don’t have a stereotype because I can shop at almost every normal clothing store when I’m not feeling picky, uh…I like the colors black, red, silver, and gold, and I hate fruit and a lot of vegetables.” I went into a bored ramble while his eyes pierced at me.

He lounged with one knee up and a hand resting on it, as typically cool as ever. “I’m 17, I swear sometimes, my parents are pretty cool, red and black are alright with me, and I go to stores like Lacoste, Ecko Red, Hollister, yeah.”

“Did you have a girlfriend before all of this happened? Or several?” I asked dully.

He laughed, and I watched his face, observing it expressionlessly as he did. “Well several sounds good, but I only broke it off with a girl about two months ago. You girls are a lot of work.”

My eyes narrowed slightly as I made a face. “Comparing me to other girls might put you into shock once you talk to me a couple more times. I'm sure you couldn't tell from the yelling that I don’t care what other people think; and you’ll never find another person remotely like me.” I crossed my legs and leaned back with my arms crossed as well.

“Do you play any sports?” I wished I had thought to put on sunglasses so my watching his every movement wouldn’t be so obvious. Most people still didn't notice, but still. Damnit damnit damnit!

“I did cheerleading a couple years ago, and I go to a gym to lift weights sometimes,” I answered, not wanting to be specific with my lack of sports in life. “I can swim, I can ice-skate, stuff like that. What about you?”

“I play basketball, football for two years, soccer for two years, track for one,” he shrugged. “It’s cool that you can lift weights- not a lot of girls can say that.”

“Well it’s required in school, but yeah I guess some people just fail… Where do you live? It’s closeby right?” I hoped for a yes. “OH and I love horseback-riding.”

“We used to live close to here, but we moved. Another reason why you’re different from everyone else.” That amazing smile flashes again. “We moved to Ohio.”

“WHAT?! What’s wrong with California?!” I only got a shrug as a response. WTF?!

“We have relatives and stuff there.” Fuck, this was going to be a looong road to happiness. Not that I ever believed in it, really. I started off to my room to pack all of my stuff, and he followed close behind. I had to bite in my usual retort of 'Get the hell off of my tail damnit!'