Love is an Act of War

I guess things like this are supposed to start with an introduction. And what more blatant intro than telling you my name? Adria Clifford, how do you do? My brother, Michael, he has his own gang, all of us living in the house our parents died in.

Our enemy, the Shadows gang (real creativity there, buddy), is run by Calum Hood. We've known each other since we were babies, we all have, but Calum and our gang hate each other. We basically want to kill each other. It wasn't always like that though. I mean, Michael and Calum always hated each other, but up until freshman year, when we started our gangs, Calum and I were pretty good friends. But that's over. I couldn't care less about that idiot. He's turned into a cocky, annoying, trying-to-hard-to-be-intimidating mess.

Ashton insists that we all go to school, so we don't seem 'suspicious' or whatever, but he's probably just sick of being lonely and wants a girlfriend. Even though we're all best friends, Ashton and I are forever best friends, we've always been like glue.

Right now, I'm walking through a parking lot for some reason. I just need to clear my head, there's a lot going on in the house right now.

Wait a minute. I smell the air one more time, and take out my knife, and turning around as fast as possible, with the knife held out.

"You really need to stop wearing such heavy cologne," I say, looking him dead in the eye. It seems like he's alone, but that doesn't guarantee anything. He puts his hands up, but walks closer. I'm not scared for one second. I mean, I was trained by the best.

"Adria, we need to talk." He says.

"We have nothing to say," I say, not lowering my knife. The second I put the knife down or look away at ALL, I know his entire gang will pop out of nowhere.

"I do." He says, walking closer so we're at a normal distance.

"Fine. Then say it before I cut your throat." I say.

"You're pretty good at that whole I'm-Gonna-Kill-You look." He smiles, his hands lowering. I keep the knife up.

"Yeah well, you kind of half to be, considering I'll be the leader soon?" I say, like duh.

"Right, right." He says nodding.

"What the fuck do you want Calum?" I say, not letting the knife down.

"Just wanted to talk." He smiles. Ugh, I can't fucking resist his smile. No, you shut up. You can't do this. Be loyal.

"I have to go," I state, but not moving.

"Then go." He shrugs, gesturing behind him.

"Fine," I say, slowly walking backward. "I will kill you someday." I say, running off. I don't run when I'm scared or anything, it's just if he wasn't alone I'd be dead by now.

When I get back to the old shitty house we call home, I collapse onto the couch. Ashton comes and sits next to my head.

"Sup." I say. He just nods his head. We aren't very touchy feely here. Just how I like it.

"So what happened, you were gone for a while." He asks, sounding more like a statement.

"Nothing, I ran into Calum."

"With the car?" He jokes. I laugh.

"God I wish. No, he shows up out of nowhere, saying he wants to talk, but he didn't even talk about anything. I had my knife out to, and he didn't tell me to put it down, but he didn't take his out either." I say, looking up at him.

"Weird. Must be planning something." Ashton shrugs.

"Isn't he always?" I roll my eyes.

"Hey losers." Michael greets as he warmly does, sitting beside my feet. We have a really long couch, so Ashton is on one side, Michael on the other, and I'm lying in the middle. "Oh Adria, you have to wear something nice tomorrow for school." He says. I roll my eyes again.

"Why? Isn't this good enough?" I say, gesturing to my black skin tight skinny jeans, black combat boots, and black, loose band tank top, cut off at the sides, with a grey sports bra under. He shakes his head no.

"Nah, you can't seem all gross."

"I don't LOOK gross," I argue.

"Adria, you have to at least SEEM normal!" He argues.

"Gee, thanks," I say, storming to my room, with Ashton following. He closes the door behind us. I walk over to the door. Something about Michael's controlling attitude makes me act like a spoiled six-year-old.

"No, no, you did it wrong," I say, opening the door, and then slamming it shut. He laughs. "What does a normal girl wear to school?" I say looking in my closet.

He shrugs, "I dunno, I think you look fine." He states, flopping onto my bed.

"THANK you." I say, looking around my closet. "Girls wear white, right? I mean, color is a thing out there?" I say.

"I think color is a thing out there." He laughs. I grab a white crop top, leather jacket, and jeans.

"How's that?" I ask. He shrugs.

"It's not you." He says. I agree.

"What about this." I say, holding up a black crop top t-shirt thing, and black skin tight pants.

He shrugs again, "It could work I guess."

"Ugh, nevermind," I say throwing my hands in the air. I huff and lye down next to Ashton, him wrapping his arms around me. "Why do we need to go to school anyway?" I ask.

"Because we gotta seem normal. Plus it's required by law, and if we don't go, the state will show up and see a bunch of minors living alone."

"But we're eighteen. I mean, Michael is 19 and you're 20, but I'm 18!" I laugh.

"Yeah, but the rest of them are 17." He says stroking my hair back.

"I guess," I say. Ashton doing all that isn't romantic or anything, it's just how we are.

How am I even supposed to act in a school? I haven't been there for weeks, and when I do go I'm sleeping most of it. I'm a great student.

Notes

this topic is so cheesy and overdone bUT lets pretend its pizza because this shit is being written
xx
-BeautifulHood