Jessica Grayson has struggled with body dysmorphia and bullying for most of her life. And when she believes she has finally turned things around for herself, she is betrayed and made fun of by her boyfriend and close friends, which sends her into a...
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I jump the fence to the Hasting's, grateful that I know exactly which part has easier access. It's getting late, and I don't have much time. This place is scary after dark due to its isolation and proximity to the woods.
I take my clothes off in a rush and dive into the water. I do a few laps enjoying myself. The sun is almost setting, casting a golen hue. I get out and jump into the open shower.
Ah! Hot water.
I rinse my hair while singing Daughtry's Ghost of me at the top of my lungs. I sway my hips and shake my head to the music letting the scalding water run down my body.
"I must say, the ghost of you is pretty entertaining."
I whip my head around so fast I'm grateful it doesn't snap. My eyes almost pop out of their sockets at the sight that greets me. I blink twice to make sure I'm not hallucinating.
"Oh, dear God!"
A smile threatens Liam's lips, one side of his mouth turning up.
"Oh my God! Stop looking!" I shriek.
My hands fly up to cover my boobs. Wearing a bikini that looked more like lingerie than swimwear wasn't very smart. But I had no idea I would have company.
His grin widens, and I watch as his eyes shamelessly roam my body. I grab my t-shirt and throw it on, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"What are you doing here? You didn't follow me, did you?" I ask, panic swelling in my chest.
He arches a brow, amused. His dark messy hair falls into his eyes, and he shoves it back unceremoniously.
"No, I did not. You can relax. I'm not interested in you like that." He says, eyes glinting.
Why did that sound like an insult?
"What are you doing here then?" I ask again, scowling as I slip my jeans on.
"I live here. What are you doing here?"
Wait, what?
"Live here? The Hastings live here." I say and mentally kick myself. I know they moved.
"They moved out—"
"Two weeks ago, I know." I interrupt. "But when did you move in?"
"Over the weekend, if you must know." He says, hazel eyes darkening.
Oh!
I haven't been here since Thursday. As realization hits me, I can't hide my embarrassment.
"I'm sorry— I— I didn't know anyone moved in."
"You're quite the trouble maker, aren't you?" He asks, eyes still scrutinizing me.
"Not by your standards," I say, my eyes traveling to his tattooed arms.
