Read Online Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) by NC Simmons - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: NC Simmons
Tags: adult fiction
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phenomenally expensive Shalamar dresses. Shalamar, for Christ’s sake! There isn’t a single off-the-rack rag in her closet! And I didn’t see anything BUT dresses in there. No jeans, no Ts. No sweats. Nothing.
(I have to get this kid down to Macy’s or something. Gotta get her to loosen up a little bit.)
And Lenore is incredibly smart! I never knew someone that beautiful could actually have a functioning brain in her skull. This girl is no dummy. She talked my ear off all afternoon about market trends, and medical discoveries, and her work with children’s charities, and all that shit.
(She wants to go into Product Liability law, for Christ’s sake. What 18-year-old would even know about something like that?)
I nodded and smiled a lot, like I actually cared and followed her, but it was kind of cool that she actually thought I understood even half of what she was talking about. I think she thinks I’m a brain, but I know I’m nowhere near as smart as she is. I just work harder at it than she probably thinks.
You know, Diary, Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente might just be the first real girlfriend I have ever had in my entire miserable life. She just lays it out there, you know? She says what’s on her mind and she doesn’t hold anything back. Everything with her is black and white, like she doesn’t have a lying bone in her body. When something is bugging her, she just lays it on me. It’s so totally cool!
Anyhoo…
When we met I could tell I freaked her out so I tried to come up with something we could do together as roommates. So on the way back from dinner tonight I asked her to be my workout partner. So starting tomorrow morning, she’s going to go to the gym with me and push me. And I’ll push her skinny ass, too!
(The poor kid’s 5’8” and a size 0. What a frigging toothpick. I have to put some meat on those supermodel bones, you know what I mean?)
Of course, I can’t let her know just how excited I am about rooming with her. So I’m playing it cool. I’m pretending like she’s just any other girl on the floor. I give her grief just like all the other rich bitches. But it’s so HARD! I’m rooming with the most frigging AWESOME girl on the entire planet! I’m rooming with Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente!
Even her name is beautiful! I just love saying her name. Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente.
I’m living the dream, baby!
Love always,
Lena.
Six
The leaf on Lena’s alarm clock flipped to 5:00AM. Zepplin’s Immigrant Song rattled from the tiny clock radio speaker. Robert Plant wailed. Classical-loving Lenore stirred, grumbled, and pulled the pillow over her head.
“HOSTIA PUTA! JODER! Mah-lee-na! It is too early! It is a Saturday! Let me sleep!”
Lena sprang from her bed, dressed in the dark, and grabbed a spare T-shirt, running shorts, and socks from her drawer. She tip-toed over to Lenore’s bed, snapped on the light above the supermodel’s head, and stole her pillow.
“Goood MOR-ning Little Miss Supermodel! It’s time to EX-er-cise! You promised you’d go with me. Sooo GET UP!”
Lena threw the clothes in Lenore’s face. Lenore flailed. “LENA! STOP IT!”
Lena clapped her hands in front of Lenore’s face. “Get dressed, Lenore! You’re my new wing-woman, remember? Wakey wakey! Rise and shine. Get your skinny supermodel ass out of bed, sister. It’s time to go work out.”
Muttering a string of indecipherable Spanish obscenities, Lenore obeyed. A promise was a promise even if it was only to herself. If Lena was making an effort, Lenore would make an effort, too, even if it meant waking up at 5am on a Saturday morning on Labor Day weekend.
Lena stood back and chuckled as Lenore changed out of her luxurious, hand-tailored, red silk pajamas and into Lena’s baggy, off-the-racks loaners. The T-shirt ballooned over Lenore’s svelte torso. The cotton shorts kept falling off her hips. The closest the supermodel had to cross-trainers was a pair of
(I have to get this kid down to Macy’s or something. Gotta get her to loosen up a little bit.)
And Lenore is incredibly smart! I never knew someone that beautiful could actually have a functioning brain in her skull. This girl is no dummy. She talked my ear off all afternoon about market trends, and medical discoveries, and her work with children’s charities, and all that shit.
(She wants to go into Product Liability law, for Christ’s sake. What 18-year-old would even know about something like that?)
I nodded and smiled a lot, like I actually cared and followed her, but it was kind of cool that she actually thought I understood even half of what she was talking about. I think she thinks I’m a brain, but I know I’m nowhere near as smart as she is. I just work harder at it than she probably thinks.
You know, Diary, Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente might just be the first real girlfriend I have ever had in my entire miserable life. She just lays it out there, you know? She says what’s on her mind and she doesn’t hold anything back. Everything with her is black and white, like she doesn’t have a lying bone in her body. When something is bugging her, she just lays it on me. It’s so totally cool!
Anyhoo…
When we met I could tell I freaked her out so I tried to come up with something we could do together as roommates. So on the way back from dinner tonight I asked her to be my workout partner. So starting tomorrow morning, she’s going to go to the gym with me and push me. And I’ll push her skinny ass, too!
(The poor kid’s 5’8” and a size 0. What a frigging toothpick. I have to put some meat on those supermodel bones, you know what I mean?)
Of course, I can’t let her know just how excited I am about rooming with her. So I’m playing it cool. I’m pretending like she’s just any other girl on the floor. I give her grief just like all the other rich bitches. But it’s so HARD! I’m rooming with the most frigging AWESOME girl on the entire planet! I’m rooming with Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente!
Even her name is beautiful! I just love saying her name. Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente.
I’m living the dream, baby!
Love always,
Lena.
Six
The leaf on Lena’s alarm clock flipped to 5:00AM. Zepplin’s Immigrant Song rattled from the tiny clock radio speaker. Robert Plant wailed. Classical-loving Lenore stirred, grumbled, and pulled the pillow over her head.
“HOSTIA PUTA! JODER! Mah-lee-na! It is too early! It is a Saturday! Let me sleep!”
Lena sprang from her bed, dressed in the dark, and grabbed a spare T-shirt, running shorts, and socks from her drawer. She tip-toed over to Lenore’s bed, snapped on the light above the supermodel’s head, and stole her pillow.
“Goood MOR-ning Little Miss Supermodel! It’s time to EX-er-cise! You promised you’d go with me. Sooo GET UP!”
Lena threw the clothes in Lenore’s face. Lenore flailed. “LENA! STOP IT!”
Lena clapped her hands in front of Lenore’s face. “Get dressed, Lenore! You’re my new wing-woman, remember? Wakey wakey! Rise and shine. Get your skinny supermodel ass out of bed, sister. It’s time to go work out.”
Muttering a string of indecipherable Spanish obscenities, Lenore obeyed. A promise was a promise even if it was only to herself. If Lena was making an effort, Lenore would make an effort, too, even if it meant waking up at 5am on a Saturday morning on Labor Day weekend.
Lena stood back and chuckled as Lenore changed out of her luxurious, hand-tailored, red silk pajamas and into Lena’s baggy, off-the-racks loaners. The T-shirt ballooned over Lenore’s svelte torso. The cotton shorts kept falling off her hips. The closest the supermodel had to cross-trainers was a pair of
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