the bet → brad simpson | ✓

8

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩: 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙨
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

I release a tired groan as I stretch my arms and rub my eyes. Slowly, my body wakes up and I get out of bed and head downstairs to get breakfast. I reach the kitchen and the first thing I notice is the broad back sitting on the barstool. I totally forget that I live with him and not back at my mom's silly apartment.

Speaking of my mom, I should probably talk to her at some point in the upcoming weekend.

I sigh with a small smile on my face, it's finally Friday.

I hadn't talked to Brad all morning, at least until I was forced to when I wanted the milk for my cereal. He only grunted and passed it to me.

"How about I take you kids to school?" His dad asks with a smile and I shrug with a small smile. Brad barely even moves. "Be ready in ten."

I stand up and put my bowl in the dishwasher and disappear upstairs to get ready for school, wearing a plain, white tee, a hoodie and some mom jeans.

When I'm ready, we go to the car and me and Brad climb into the back, waiting to arrive in silence. Finally arriving, I climb out and I'm about to walk off quickly, as far away from Brad as I can, but he stops me by grabbing my arm.

I pull it away from his grasp and sigh at him, "what do you want?"

"I was gonna ask if you've done the maths homework, but it doesn't matter anymore," he shrugs and I sigh, disappointed. I was at least hoping for him to engage a proper conversation with me.

"Yeah, I've done it," I say and pull it out of my bag and hand it to him. "Give it me back in class."

"Okay, thanks," he says and takes it off of me, walking away and stuffing it into his own bag without a care in the world.

I rub my temples as I walk into school, this was all too stressful: having to balance my school-life with my home-life, which wasn't at actually at my home but with a seriously good-looking idiot.

Yes, I called the Brad Simpson good looking—call me a sinner but he is attractive, I'll give him that. The brains, however, I'm not so sure on. . .

"Wait, Tas!" I turn around to see Brad looking straight at me. I raise an eyebrow, as if telling him I wanted to know what he wanted. "Uh, accept my friend request on Facebook. It's the least you could do since I'm letting you live with me."

"You're not letting me, you're forcing me," I shrug and turn away and into my first class, ignoring his dramatic sigh.

The teacher hadn't arrived yet, and we had first period English. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Instagram so I didn't look as lonely until I get a message from my mom.

Hey sweetie. Hope you're okay and school is going well; I'm being sent off to California for some work over the weekend so I won't have much chance to talk to you as I leave today. Remember to eat your carbs and don't go drinking too much. Love you, mom.

Before I reply, someone sits next to me and I look to see Brad, rolling my eyes.

"You still haven't accepted my request," he says with a raised eyebrow and waves his phone in his hand. "I checked."

"I don't want you stalking my profile," I tease him with a slight laugh, keeping my eyes focused on the notepad on my desk.

"It's only fair since you did," he joked and I opened the Facebook app, accepting his request. "Happy? Now, go sit in your own seat."