Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
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I'm the kind of person who can easily sleep up to 12+ hours straight. I can also take naps throughout the day and still sleep like a baby for half a day, only to repeat this process the next night. It's like I have this endless supply of sleep.
Waking up has always been traumatic to me, which inevitably leads to me being moody, mean, insufferable and more irritable than usual in the morning. Or afternoon, depending on when I wake up.
This is the only reason why I dread going to school: I don't mind the tests or the exams, I ace all of them so I never have to stress about my grades. Nobody has the nerve to mess with me, so my schoolmates also aren't a problem.
My only issue is having to wake up at 7 am, something I deem completely unnecessary and against human rights.
Besides, teenagers are different from adults, and our brains fully wake up two hours after them, due to a shift in our circadian rhythms. Essentially, school should start at 10 am, not at 8.
I cursed my decision to stay awake until 2 am to watch a stupid show, for I was incredibly tired. My feet landed on the cold marble floor and I shivered, so I blindly looked for my slippers with my eyes only half open, my heavy eyelids preventing me from seeing clearly.
The door to my room opened suddenly, making a loud sound that angered me. "Ali, are you up? It's 7:25." Came my dad's worried voice.
I sent him a murderous glare, and my irritation was only amplified when I saw that he was already dressed, his suit perfectly ironed and his hair styled to perfection. Stupid men and their fast routines.
He let out a breathy chuckle when he noticed just how angry I was, since I definitely must have looked like a child who didn't get her candy. "Come on, baby, go get ready. I can't believe you're still sitting on your bed."
"Go make breakfast instead of worrying about me." I replied coldly, trying hard to get my legs to function again. Normally I would've stayed at home, because I felt too tired to live, but I couldn't miss the chance of seeing Mr. Visconti.
Too bad I didn't listen to my old self, I really should've stayed the hell home.
A smug smile curled my dad's pink lips. "A hot stack of chocolate chip pancakes is waiting for you." He couldn't miss the chance to brag, and I suspected that he was doing it to irritate me further.
I rolled my eyes and lifted up my arms, silently begging for help.
My dad walked inside and slid his arms around my torso, right below my armpits, lifting me up on my feet. "Do you want to skip school today?"
