Ladykiller (A Maroon 5 Fanfiction) ~Completed!~
Author: Pin3apple

Chapter 3
Chapter 3

The drive back to my family's cabin took a while.

No one at North-Bridge Farm really had a house of their own. Each house was a cabin because it was practically a size of a cabin- a very small blue cabin to be exact. And anyone who did call them houses would just be stupid because they all looked like cabins.

Finally John pulled the Chevy truck into a stop. The engine died, the lights turned off, the heat turned off, and everything was quiet. All you could hear now were the spooky animals, and the clear night.

I looked out to the stars. Every star I could see perfectly clear. Some were small, some were large. It reminded me those nights when me and John would run to his cabin, jump into eachother's arms, and would just make out for hours. ...I was going to miss that.

"Have you decided?" John asked, finally looking at me with tired eyes.

"It's an amazing opportunity...-" I began.

"Anna!" John yelled, getting out of the car frustrated, like saying Anna was just like saying a bad word.

He walked over to my side of the door quickly as possible, opening my door.

"What-" I began but suddenly paused.

He ripped off my seatbelt, picking me up, and throwing my arms around his neck. I didn't know what he was doing, so I decided to go along with it.

He sat on the seat I was just in, still holding me around his lap. He held my waist tightly and forcefully kissed me. He hasn't kissed me like this since forever. He grabbed my waist tightly, still kissing me. I felt my spine tingle in joy, happiness, but also nerve-wreck.

I felt his hand move up, below my shirt, near my bra strap. He never untightened it, halelujiah, but I could still feel his hands moving up and down my bare back. He finally reached towards my shirt ends, taking my shirt off. I felt his hand move up and down continuosly.

His lips were sweet, like cherry pie. And oh my gosh, did he do choir? Those singing exercises better have came in handy.

I felt his hands going down my short shorts. He pushed me against him, but I didn't have to worry about my mom finding out. We had our clothes on. I forcefully pushed down on him, grabbing his shoulders, and kissing him hard, I wrapped my legs tighter.

That's when I felt his body tightened. I backed away, and stopped kissing him. What happened? Did we go too far? Was he going to worry about his parents now? Oh gosh! I embarrassed him!

Instead, he ended up just wrapping his long arms around my bare back. ...Like nothing changed.

"Does that affect your decision?" He asked, starting to grin.

I gasped, "It does not all depend on you and how you kiss me!"

"Yes it does," John smirked.

"And why would you think that?" I asked, grabbing onto my shirt beside me.

"Because, if we had made out just like that, right now, there's a 99% chance you'll stay,"

"Look," I started sternly, putting my shirt on over my head, "This opportunity is my decision, and I will not let you ruin it!"

Once I got my arms through the shirt's sleeves, and it was on, I quickly unwrapped my legs from John's waist, opening the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"As far as I can get from you," I yelled slamming the car door.

I heard the pulling down of a window, not that far off.

"You know, I just wanted you to stay here. ...With me," John said desperately, wanting me to come back.

"I know, but gosh, I didn't know you were that desperate. And guess what? I can make my own decisions!" I said angrily.

I could feel as if John was rolling his eyes out of annoyance right now. ...He probably was.

"I knew that!" John shouted back.

"You should," I smirked turning to look at him.

He had a bored expression on his face like he was tired of this subject, but to me this was important. John never listened to me! To anything that was important, he never listened.

"I'm breaking up with you John," I said to him helplessly, like there was nothing I could do. ...Which was true.

John shook his head flusteredly, "Anna, you're a stubborn brat!"

His words hit me hard suddenly. Why was he being such a jerk? What about our friendship? Didn't he care? Or want to hold on? I swallowed slowly as if if he had just punched me in the gut.

"Ya' know Mrs. Hall? She wouldn't have been so stubborn. In fact, she would've thought this was sweet."

I shook my head. "What about our friendship?"

"What friendship? I had a crush on you since we've met. This is a fling! Our whole entire relationship has been a fling!"

Water filled my eyes. I tried to blink them back but couldn't. I could hear it in my voice too.

"Why are you being such a jerk?"

"Why are you still here? Don't you have your school to go to?"

My heart torn apart. Every piece of it felt like it was being pulled apart. Slowly and painfully, like death. I held myself in place watching John pull away, the car engine turning on again. It's bright lights making sure John saw my tears.

"Have fun," He said, having that stupid smirk I now hated.

I ran inside my cabin opening the door, tears shooting out of my eyes like fire. I didn't know how to explain to my mom why I was crying. Why would she know all these years I had a fling with my best friend here? John was my only friend. He knew everything! What if he told Mrs. Hall?

Of course me and John had fights all the time, but never this powerful. This time, it felt different, like something would happen, but I didn't know what. Usually all our fights would be some stupid, pointless argument, and the next day, we'd kiss and everything was back to the way it was. But now I wanted it to stay like this ... for a while at least.

Now I had no friends.


I tried to think of how I could find more. Well everyone at school would probably know me now as the lonely girl who broke up with her best friend and fling. Would John spread it easily? How quick would it be until the word goes out? Spreads over town, and eventually to my parents of course!

How mad would my parents be? Knowing how much times they had let John into my room...

I looked at the envelope I grabbed the last minute in John's car.

John... The word I despise now.

I teared open the envelope that took a while for me to reseal after the Halloween party. I looked at the message, rereading it. Ramon C. Cortines School Of Visual And Performing Arts... what was that?

I reached down underneath my bed.

Feeling around for a touch of my laptop took a while. I touched the dusty carpet a few times, my diary (All about John, don't need to be reminded of him.) and finally the clear case of my apple laptop I got for my last year birthday.

I pulled it onto my lap, which took some strength because I was already on my bed. Setting it down in front of me, I wiped away my strong tears. I opened it up, looking at myself like it was a mirror. ...Just darker.

I looked hideous. My mascara and eyeliner I wore at the Halloween party was all smeared from the tears I cried for John. My hair was all messed and crumpled up from John messing it when we were kissing. Those soft lips...So sweet like cherry I'd miss.

I wonder... If every thought of mine... starts with that one word I've been crying over these few minutes.


I quickly clicked the power button on my laptop, pressing it hard. I must've pressed it too hard because I jumped startledly when it made it's usual starting noise.

The bright screen of an apple that had one bite showed up. I watched the bottom where the small circle kept going around, showing it was loading.

After a few minutes of loading, I was on the internet, and on google. I was going to search this new school. Surely they had a website right? Maybe I could check out their courses. In addition, it'll get my mind off John.

I typed in the name of the school, trying to keep my nose from running. I watched the screen load with a little bit of impaitence. My computer was slow at the worst times. Finally the page loaded.

Ramon C. Cortines School Of Visual And Performing came on.

I looked at the screen. A long, large picture was on the top of the school's site. It was a silhouette picture that held about 5,000 kids around their really large high school campus. They were all holding up drawings they made of music notes, which I found really cool.

I scrolled down, looking through links. Homework, schooling rules, academic classes, college credit classes, and finally the link of the new year.

The new year paragraph was the excitement for every kid at school, at any school. ...Well maybe not. I may be the only one whose hyped up for a paragraph on a school's site. But you know what? I don't care! For all I knew, I barely ever use my laptop because I can only use our farm's wifi once a week. Sucks, right? Well tomorrow is Sunday, so I have nothing to worry about.

I clicked on the link, and started reading.

"Welcome future kids of 2013! This is Mr. Phillips, your school principal. This year, we have very special news! A star will be joining Ramon C. Cortines School Of Visual And Performing Arts. Yes, a popstar!..." I continued reading.

The principal so far sounded like one of those guys who are all, "My school is so fantastic, and you should join! Especially since we have a popstar!" ...It was like my uncle Frank. He was always cheerful, but stuck up like Mrs. Hall as well.

I snapped out of my thoughts and continued,

"This year, our star will be Adam Levine!"

Wait! Did he just say this year? They had a famous singer at this school every year, and this year was Maroon 5's lead singer...?

"Mom!" I yelled, getting up from my bed, my neatly folded pajamas falling off the end.

I walked across the hallway to where the side door was (where I entered) and the kitchen. I walked across another hallway finally finding my mom on the living room couch.

As I entered the living room, mom had her feet glued on the table across her, with her starbucks latte on one hand and her french, "Bonjour!" magazine on the other. She hadn't even bothered to look up at me yet. Dad was probably taking a nap at his usual Saturday nights.

"What is it honey?" My mom asked, still not looking up.

My mom acted like a professional doll sometimes. She turns her head really slow, and ladylike. She acts like a queen who never stops working, and drinking lattes.

Regular teens my age always shop with their moms like there's no tomorrow. If I asked my mom that, she'd be, "Take your father. He'd love to go,"

On the other hand, it was like my dad was the mom, and my mom was the dad. I had really opoosite parents...

"Ramon C. Cortines School Of Visual And Performing Arts," I exclaimed, holding out my envelope towards mom.

Mom sighs, putting her feet and latte down finally looking up at me, her glasses down like a grandma.

Her tiny eyes squeezed a bit as she grabbed the envelope. I watched her tear it apart the way I did at the Halloween Dance. It took a few minutes for her to read over it, but once she finished, she nodded.

"Sounds appropriate," She began her professional talk. "I'll look into it,"

"Mom, why would it be innappropriate?" I groaned.

"Anna... I don't want you to turn into some kind of slut when you come back for Winter Break."

My mom's got a point. But what about my school? Did she even realize how many sluts they have? Even John turned this one girl into a slut. If we ever had our "first time" once we were married, it would be romantic, and I would most likely turn into a slut as well.

"Like the girls here?" I muttered.

"What?" My mom asked, actually looking up at me like a normal person.

"Nothing," I sighed, grabbing the envelope.

"Anna," Mom called.


"Why are your eyes red?" My mom asked looking concerned.

"Oh," I said astonished.

I had completely forgot I was crying earlier. Now mom is going to do her panic attack. She'll ask me what's wrong and why I've been crying...

"You're eyes need to be checked! I'll arrange an appointment tomorrow," My mom said grabbing a pen and paper.

I nodded, feeling a rush of relief. With that I walked away into my gloomy room which had no soul. It belonged to a girl with a fling to John. ...Which I don't have anymore.

"Good night honey," I heard my mom yell across the house.

"Good night," I whispered, shutting off my light for the night.


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