I wake the next morning in my new room, oddly refreshed considering the lack of sleep I'd gotten after staying up the better half of the night unpacking and organizing my belongings. The thought of going to sleep with boxes and my possessions haphazardly strewn around the room had stressed me to the max, and I wasn't able to drift off until every last thing was in its new place.

After rolling out of bed, I wander down the stairs in search of breakfast. The instant Kendall notices me still in my pajamas—she herself is already dressed in a blouse and pencil skirt, a carbon copy of our mother, though Kendall is only sixteen—she wrinkles her nose and rolls her blue eyes in disdain.

"You look—"

"Like I just woke up?" I question, crossing my arms as I stare my sister down. "Probably because I did. Thanks for noticing."

"That's how you want to be dressed when the Bradford's get here?" Kendall asks in clear disgust, pursing her lips as she holds my gaze with contempt.

I recognize the Bradford name instantly. The Bradford's happen to be a family very similar to my own. Thomas Bradford is the successful owner of one of the nation's largest construction companies at the moment, so I don't find it surprising that he'll be coming over, no doubt to talk business with my father. After all, my dad is trying to start building a new hotel.

"When are the Bradford's getting here?" I ask Kendall before taking a bite of my granola bar, serving as my breakfast for the time being.

"Well"—Kendall pauses her speech to sip her tea, a smug smile forming on her lips—"considering that the Bradford's are our neighbors, I'd say any minute now."

Kendall's response shocks me to the point I end up choking on my granola bar, spouting bits everywhere. My sister merely wrinkles her nose once again, not bothering to ask if I'm okay. It takes a minute for me to process what Kendall has just old me about the Bradford's being our neighbors. As in, they live right next door.

Suddenly, even I'm disgusted by my appearance.

"Right," I mutter once I'm able to gain a breath after all the coughing I've been doing. "I think I'm gonna go shower."

"You should," Kendall chimes with a smirk, no doubt trying to get a rise out of me. I don't satisfy her with any sort of response, instead choosing to turn my back and roll my eyes before rushing toward the staircase. I quickly hop into the shower, washing away the stress of the last few days.

I think as I ready myself, realizing that I don't know too much about the Bradford's; at least, no more than anyone else in the country does. I know the basics: they're a wealthy and elite family, highly influential here in New York's Upper East Side. I know Thomas Bradford is married with children, a daughter and son I'm assuming around my age.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my body and dry my hair, opting to leave it cascading down my shoulders. I apply light makeup and then wander over to my closet, trying to come up with an outfit my mother would approve of, as I don't want her to be any more upset with me than she already is. I tug on a lacy black top and white skirt, even going for heels, which says a lot since I can't stand the torture devices.

By the time I head out of my room to join my family downstairs, I hear unfamiliar voices drifting from the living room. I curse myself under my breath, as it's evident the Bradford's must have arrived while I was still in the shower. I have no doubt that my parents will be mad at me for not being around to greet the Bradford's upon their entrance.

I quietly descend the stairs, hoping to go unnoticed. I spot Mom and a blonde woman—I'm assuming Mrs. Bradford—in the kitchen. The door to my father's study is closed, signifying that his meeting with Mr. Bradford must have already started. If I can just make it to the living room before either of my parents notice my absence, I'll be safe. For now, at least.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't pay attention to what I'm doing, and I feel my heel slipping down the stairs before I'm able to catch myself. I'm tripping before I know it, stumbling into a hard object. Regaining my footing, I wince, standing flat on the ground. Glancing up in shock, I find myself face-to-face with a boy I don't recognize. He's definitely attractive, with blond hair, frosty blue eyes, and sharp facial features.

The boy narrows his eyes as he takes me in, stepping away from me slightly. I can't blame him, considering I've literally just ran into him after tripping down my own stairs.

"Watch where you're going," he hisses after a moment of nothing but staring, expression filled with annoyance brought on by our interaction. His attitude instantly rubs me the wrong way, as it should be blatant that I wasn't trying to run into him. It was an accident.

"Sorry," I snap in an equally snippy tone, arms crossed over my chest. "This is my house."

"Is that how you always greet your guests then?" the boy questions, his sneer slowly morphing into a taunting smirk as he gestures to the staircase behind me, mentioning my recent stumble. A twinge of irritation rushes through me as I study the boy before me, wondering what his deal is.

"I tripped," I clarify, "and I apologized."

"If anything, you should be thanking me." His smirk widens as he goes on, "You would have fallen flat on your face if I hadn't been there to stop your fall."

"Seriously?" I question through gritted teeth, stunned. It's clear that this boy is Thomas Bradford's son, though I don't really care who he is. So far, he's been nothing but arrogant and rude toward me. Furthermore, I can't stand the smirk he's giving me, as if he's daring me to say something insulting to him. "You're that conceited?"

"Well, it's the least you could do." He shrugs, obviously enjoying himself. "I don't particularly like when girls stumble into me as they fall down stairs. So, yes. An apology and a thank you would suffice."

Clenching my fists, I can feel my nails as they dig into my palms. Haven't we established that my running into him had been an accident? The entitlement he's showing is beyond frustrating, so much so that I begin to wonder if he's being serious.

"Are you joking?" I ask, baffled.

In response, the boy merely blinks, still sporting that awful smile.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"I hope you're joking," I mirror his stance as I offer him my best glare, "because there is no way I'm going to thank you for what just happened. This is my house, you douche!"

Peering down at me with a look of superiority and a raised eyebrow, he mutters, "What did you just call me?"

Narrowing my green eyes, I shoot back, "I think you heard me."

"I don't think that was very smart of you to say to me, doll," the boy lilts, taking a step closer to where I'm standing.

"Yeah?" I question, squaring my jaw. "Well, at least I don't think with my dick."

Raising his eyebrows, he lets out a low chuckle. "Clearly, you don't think at all."

With a gasp, I shove the boy in the chest before I'm able to think better of the action. "You did not just say that to me!" I hiss in shock. "Take that back!"

"Make me," he taunts, the ends of his lips curling upward into yet another smirk.

"I want you out of my house," I snap, gesturing to the front door with my pointer finger. "I seriously never want to see you again."

"I'm sorry," the asshole mumbles in a tone that suggests he's anything but sorry, "but I don't think that decision is up to you. Besides, we're neighbors now. I have the feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, as awful as that sounds."

I exhale sharply, fed up with this boy and this entire situation playing out with him. The two of us glare at one another for what feels like an eternity, pure hatred radiating between us. However, neither of us has the chance to say another harsh word to the other before a petite blonde is interrupting us, which I'm grateful for.

"Ah," the blonde says, gaze drifting from myself to the boy across from me. "I see you've met my brother."

My eyes widen as I study the blonde closely, glancing back over to the asshole I've had the pleasure of arguing with for the past few minutes. Looking between the two, it's easy to notice certain similarities they share. The blond hair, bright blue eyes, sharp facial features, even a dimple that appears in their left cheek when they smile.

"Brother?" I mumble, raising an eyebrow as I return my attention to the blonde.

"Yeah," she admits with an eye roll, though she's sporting a kind smile. "This is Luke, my older brother. I'm Alissa. You must be Jade. I was just talking to your sister, Kendall."

"Uh, yeah," I mumble once I've moved past my initial shock, finding it hard to believe that this seemingly nice girl can possibly be related to the spawn of Satan. "I'm Jade." I find it hard to tear my eyes off of Luke, who is currently smirking at me as if he knows something I don't.

"Sorry you had to meet my brother," Alissa teases, shoving Luke's arm playfully. "He isn't the nicest, to say the least. And, is it just me, or is Kendall kinda uptight?"

I can't help grinning as I cry, "Finally! Someone else notices! Yes, she is. An exact replica of our mother."

Rolling her blue eyes, Alissa says, "I know the type well. My brother has a stick up his butt twenty-four-seven."

With a faint smile, Luke glances at his sister and mutters, "Funny."

"What? You know it's true."

I take an immediate liking to Alissa. She seems to be the complete opposite of her arrogant brother, and she's the nicest person I've encountered in days. I can envision a future in which she and I become friends, which I could use some of right about now.

"I see you two are getting along," Luke notes as I share a smile with his sister, an almost wicked gleam shining in his cold blue irises, alerting me that I won't like whatever he has to say next. "Though that's no wonder. What's that saying? Bitches are like magnets: they attract each other?"

I scoff along with Alissa, glaring daggers at Luke. By this point, I'm nearly immune to his annoyingly good looks. It doesn't matter how much Luke resembles a Greek god, he's clearly nothing more than an asshole, and those come a dime a dozen.

"I bet you were proud of that line, weren't you?" I taunt, trying to keep my cool. Still, my nails dig into my palms, no doubt going to leave behind little crescent-shaped marks in my skin. "What's that other saying?" I question, placing a finger to my chin as I pretend to be thinking. "Boys with performance issues have to act like dicks to make up for what they lack?"

"Yeah?" Luke steps closer to me, uncomfortably close honestly, seemingly unfamiliar with the term personal space. "If you believe that, then you've clearly never spent a night with me before."

I can't help blushing. It hits me that Luke Bradford is exactly the kind of boy that has girls and guys alike pining after him, though only a select few will ever be lucky enough to actually grow close to. No doubt he gets around, meaningless one night stands to be bragged about by those on the opposite end, believing they'd been the one to tame his wild heart, only to be tossed aside for a new conquest.

Sensing my discomfort, Luke backs away, his mission to unnerve me seemingly completed. I hate that he's somehow managed to render me speechless, because I want nothing more than to wipe his smirk of victory off of his disgustingly pretty face.

"I'll leave you ladies to it," Luke declares after casting one last fleeting glance in my direction, biting back a smirk so large it rivals his ego. "It was nice to meet you, Jade." The tone with which Luke uses to speak makes it clear he's being sarcastic.

"Please," I retort with a mock-smirk of my own, "the pleasure was all mine."

I don't know where Luke wanders off to when he turns his back on me, but I don't bother thinking about it. Instead, I turn to Alissa with an exasperated expression, which causes her to giggle, eyes twinkling with understanding.

"Awful, isn't he?" Alissa questions, rolling her eyes. "Be glad you don't have to live with him."

"Can't disagree there," I admit. "Though I have to say I'm sorry to know he's my neighbor."

"At least these houses are so big. Plenty of space between the properties." Alissa wrinkles her nose at that, expression almost disgusted. It hits me that Alissa and I seem to be more alike than I formerly thought. She obviously feels the same disdain I do toward these lives that our families live. The limos, the mansions, the money, the fame . . . it all sounds like a dream until you're forced to live the nightmare.

"You know, Alissa," I murmur with a faint grin, "I have a feeling we are going to be very good friends."

»»————- ————-««

a/n: i hate school.