[Currently being rewritten and updated chapter by chapter]
Book One in the "Hard Love" series.
It's hard being knocked down. And it's even harder getting back up.
Thalia Carter grew up on the south side of Chicago with a dead-beat dad and never real...
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Yesterday I went home from school on a high–a metaphorical one, that is. I know exactly why, and while it's a little daunting that a girl could get me this excited after two conversations, I decided I'm going to roll with it. I live by a few jumbled mottos that basically outline my life. No regrets. Carpe Diem. If you feel something, act on it. If you have something to say, say it.
That buzz was killed the moment I pulled into the garage, because my parents Range Rover that they take to work together was in its typically vacant spot. Anytime I have to interact with my parents, my mood goes to shit.
The buzz has been killed and buried, and I'm still feeling it's absence an entire day later.
I know I said sisters are the worst, but that was when parents weren't factored into the equation. Compared to our parents, Zoe is a goddamn angel.
I dipped out on lunch and opted to head to the weight room instead. My blood tends to run a little hot, so whenever I'm getting pissed off I work out to try to cool down. That, or have sex. It's usually a damn good stress reliever. But I honest to god am not in the mood for sex.
Figure that one out.
I'm sweating like a pig by the time I'm done, because not only did I bench far more reps than I should've, but the ventilation in the weight room sucks.
I hit the showers and quickly wash off before the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. I manage to meet Nate in statistics with a minute to spare.
"Where were you today?" He asks as he flips open his textbook to the assigned page. Today is where the real work begins, but I'm not worried. I've always been a numbers guy. Hence the reason I doubled up on math classes this year. That, and then I don't have to take it next year in college. "Why's your hair all wet?"
"Weight room. I showered."
"Dude, you should've just come to morning workout with the football team." Nate leans over and slaps my back. I shove him off weakly. I'm already feeling drained. I went too hard on not enough food. Note to self: don't skip lunch next time.
"And get up at five a.m.? No thank you."
Oliver and Nate have a lot of discipline that I lack when it comes to school sanctioned sports. Waking up before dawn for two hours of strenuous conditioning twice a week is something I could never get on board with.
"Fair point. Are you coming to Bruno's after school?"
Fuck, that's today? I was honestly planning on hitting the gym again. I'm still in no mood to socialize.
"Nah, I'm not feeling it."
I start reading the assigned page of our textbook intently, because I'd rather not get into why. Nate knows how my parents can be with Zoe and I. Not with Sienna; she's their golden child. But me and Zoe? We're both disappointments, for our own respective reasons.
