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FALLING FOR THE HOTTIE NEXT DOOR

FALLING FOR THE HOTTIE NEXT DOOR

trina hay

5.0
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21+ WARNING!!!! THIS BOOK CONTAINS STEAMY MATURE CONTENTS, NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDERAGE... "Every good girl wants a bad boy who is good only for her." "Every bad boy wants a good girl who is bad only for him." "Whenever you are looking for love don't look too far he might be right next door." Cindy Williams has a 4.0 GPA, no social life, and precisely two friends-the stereotypical adolescent fiction heroine. Austin Holden, her next-door neighbor and an unachievably popular football player, has captured her heart for life. Up until Justin Drake shows up, she believes her senior year would be calm. Extremely attractive but conceited, he's a bad kid whose past Clara would do anything to erase. He's also rude and conceited. Her life is completely upside down due to being torn between two males. Maybe, however, she discovers herself and love in the middle of all the uncertainty and mayhem.

Chapter 1 EPISODE 1

This may begin to demonstrate to you just how pitiful my typical day-to-day existence is in precisely two ways.

One will be humiliated by a former best friend who is now the queen bee and despises me to the core of her being. (I promise, it will arrive later.)

However, the other will be smitten with the man who lives next door.

As I peered out my wide French windows to the room in front of me in the home, I said to myself, "Come on." The door of that room opens, and I scurry to the side in the hopes that he won't see me.

Okay, I'll admit it. It was kind of stupid to spend my Friday night trying to get a glimpse of him by looking into his room.

Put it away.

I mean, it was kind of pathetic that this was how I spent my Friday night and all the other nights of the week.

How pitiful.

Holden Austin.

My heart was tapping to the tune of his very existence. Every school has that one man who 90% of the females lust over. He's a few steps up the social ladder and not the haughty jerk that every other decent-looking guy is.

Austin most certainly met that requirement at our school. His blonde hair, emerald eyes, and his status as a football player were all signs of perfection. I was in love with him because of this. Austin is not a typical jock; he's not a jerk. The talented quarterback has a golden heart.

My phone's notification alarm went off abruptly. I scrambled to get to my phone on the dressing table, tripping over my massive canopy bed. Alright, I did like Austin Holden. I'm using the term "liked" a little loosely since, to be honest, I was in love with him. He had captured my heart from the moment I could remember.

Even while he was dating some of the prettiest, sexiest females in our class.

I leaned over immediately to see that Austin had left a note. I stumbled over my fingers to read his letter.

Would you please come to your window so we can talk?

I immediately combed my bushy blonde hair and glanced at my image in the mirror as my heart skipped a beat. tall frame, grey-blue eyes, and blonde hair. Unless I was with Austin, I was the kind of person who never received a second look-and even then, it was usually a death gaze. I had on trousers and a basic green t-shirt on. As usual, when I was very delighted or enthusiastic, my normally dull eyes would twinkle with enthusiasm.

Basically, whenever it had to do with Austin.

I raced to my window once I was happy with how I looked-basically, I was attempting to smooth out the creases on my t-shirt.

With his legs hanging outdoors, Austin was seated on the window ledge.

I said, "Austin, get back in, you'll fall!"

Austin raised his head. He had dark rings around his drooping eyes. His toned arms were bared by the black V-neck t-shirt he was wearing.

That's hot, for crying out loud.

Cindy, pay attention.

He stammered, "Cindyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

I said to him, "Oh my god, are you drunk?" Austin nodded sluggishly, almost tripping over.

I yell as I dash out of the home and down the stairs, "Stay I'm coming."

It doesn't take me long to swiftly unlock the door of his large, three-story home, which is precisely like mine, by finding the extra key beneath the mattress. I run upstairs and into Austin's room, a room I've been in a million times. The color blue served as his room's signature. everything from the carpet to his bed sheet to his curtains. There were areas of the wall that were a dark blue color that weren't covered with plaques or shelves containing his football awards.

"Austin, come down from the window sill." I called out. Austin looked around, perplexed. His large green eyes were fixed on me.

"Come and get me," he murmured in a childlike manner.

Come on, you know you really adore this man when, when he gets drunk, his inner four-year-old comes out and you think it's "cute".

I calmly said, "Austin, you know I can't do that. With my luck, we'll both fall."

If you have seen me up a flight of stairs, you really don't need an explanation for that statement. Not often times do I stumble and fall while going up.

Therefore, it would not be the best idea to add a window to that equation.

He smiles, which makes me feel lightheaded, and adds, "Right." Austin descends the window ledge gradually, but he stumbles and falls into his bed, with me underneath him.

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