Adam & Eve

Copyright ©2011 by champagne kisses.


Chapter 1


"Evangeline Grey!"

Dad's call startling me from the light doze into which I'd drifted- in the middle of breakfast time.

"Finish up your breakfast," dad says.

I shouldn't stay up so late last night. I was so engrossed watching Grey's Anatomy season six and seven that I can barely remember getting into sleep. Grey's Anatomy is definitely my favorite TV show of all time. Coincidentally, my last name is Grey. It would be awesome if somehow I'm related to Meredith Grey, getting sucked in to her world and hanging around with her doctor friends and her dotting husband. I even fantasized about being a doctor and people calling me Dr. Grey. Unfortunately, my passion of being a doctor died after watching this disgusting surgery show on Discovery Channel. It was just disturbing having to watch a group of surgeon cracking open a patient's body like a walnut.

Real life isn't always like that nonsensical crap on TV. Real doctors don't look like Derek Shepherd or Mark Sloan and real relationship don't always work the way they do in the movies or like those in Disney's fairy tales.


"Loser," Junior hiss beside me.

"I'm not even talking to you," I say, stabbing my cereals with the edge of the spoon.

Junior is my bratty and extremely annoying stepbrother. His mother, Denise and my dad used to date in high school but separated their ways as they went away for college. Maybe by- oh, I don't know- God's grace, they met again six years ago and married a year after. Denise really has a mom thing down. Our half-brother, Ethan was born four years ago. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make fun of him but Ethan does look like an elf. A cute elf with big bulbous blue eyes and always smiling even there's nothing to smile about.

And oh, Denise's eldest son is an idiot.

Junior is few months older than me though, he just turned eighteen few weeks ago. He's the guy that every girl in school thought could easily be in Calvin Klein printed ads, oh puh-lease and to make it even worse- he's one of the jocks, a basketball player, so it's normal for him getting thrown into this horrible, horrible pod in the social hierarchy of our school.

Apparently, I'm like sewn into his shadow. Everywhere he goes, he drags me along like I'm his Number Two. It turns out to be he isn't too embarrassed at all to be seen with me at school. Like it isn't bad enough that I have to put up with his quirks at home. Basically, I'm stuck with him twenty-four/seven. To add my already growing horror, my best friend, Charlotte is his girlfriend. They've been dating for a year now. I've got nothing against their relationship but it's just so weird, you know, with the whole your best friend being your stepbrother's girlfriend thingy. One day, you just walked in and found them making out on the couch, him on top of her. Not a pretty sight for me. And for some reason, it was kind of gross.

Junior's real name is Owen. Owen Broderick, Jr. I used to call him Owen when Denise and dad first got married but then I started to call him Junior one day because I was bored and thought that just might drive him crazy. It did drive him nuts though but then he got used to it.

"Evey, I need your opinion on something," Junior says as he slides the gear stick into reverse, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes, Junior. That shirt you're wearing is gay," I reply flatly.

"And that grandma skirt looks ridiculous on you," he rolls his eyes. "What are we doing? Anyway, I know that you never stop filling my head with false hopes and dreams and- don't get me started with all those extreme delusional trolley of yours, but I really need your opinion. Next week is Charlie's birthday. What do you think I should give her?"

Charlie is short for Charlotte by the way.

"As far as your life goes, normally I couldn't care less who pwned you in Warcraft or who ate your last remaining burittos that you left in the fridge. But since it's concerning Charlotte, my best friend, whose primary concern is not missing a single sale at Saks Fifth Avenue- I think you know the answer."

"Whoa! No. I'd be skinned," he exclaims. "How about a party?"

"Great idea. Let's say we make her a surprise party, and you're a clown..."

"I'm afraid of clown, Evey," he blurts out.

That brings me back to Ethan's third birthday when dad has disguised himself as a clown, Junior freaked out as if the clown pop out in front of his face and tell him that he's going to die, so he spent twelve hours hiding in the basement. Four years ago, I dressed up as a clown for Halloween and of course, just by the sight of my reddish clown wig frightened the bejesus out of him, instead of Trick or Treat-ing with his friends, he spent his Halloween night locking himself in his bedroom, hiding under the bed.

"What else you got?" he asks again.

"Why don't you give her something you made? Last year, Connor, the guy thanks-to-you-for-calling-him-a-dick-and-sucker-punched-him-in-front-of-everybody-I-only-dated-him-for-two-weeks made me a duck for dinner."

"Evey, you know me, I can't cook."

"Or maybe you can make her a mini Eiffel Tower out of toothpicks."

"Wow," he laughs. "That sounds really, really, really stupid. What else?"

"Just give her something simple and romantic, yet memorable."

Junior look thoughtful for a moment.

"Are you suggesting me to sleep with her? Because last week she did mention something about crotchless panties..."

"You know what," I cut him off. "I don't really want to hear that. No one cares you two are having sex."

Frankly, I don't even want to picture them naked in his bedroom. And if I ever wanted to have a stupid conversation about their sex life, all I have to do is to draw in my eyebrows together and walk off.

"And by the way, does it really matter what I'm saying?" I add.

"Not really," he shrugs. "But it does make sense."

Junior's car pulls over into the parking lot of high school. We are both seniors in Edgemont High and this year will be the most important year of our lives. But as far as I can tell, my life is still irreparably unaltered. I'm still the same girl as I was since freshmen year. In spite of the fact that my stepbrother is one of the most popular guys in school, which gives me the privilege to hang out with the popular crowd, I'm still one of the least popular people in school. And I'm okay with that.

"Morning, doll-face!" Charlotte greets me.

"Morning!" I say with a smile.

Charlotte is my best friend and I love her to death. We've been friends since middle school. She is a senior class president and is definitely one of the prettiest girls in school- being tall and slim, with wavy blond hair, blue eyes and these all-American looks that could come straight from the clothing catalogue. As opposed to me being a blue-eyed brunette and just- average. Still, Charlotte calls me doll-face all the time. She said I look like a porcelain doll. Well, mom and dad used to say that to me too and Denise couldn't seem to disagree, she sometimes calls me marshmallow because my skin is ghostly white and she thinks I look so soft she wants to cuddle me every time she sees me. Like this morning, she gave me a big Teddy Bear hug before I go to school.

The next thing I know, Charlotte starts kissing Junior. Uh-oh, here goes the big morning make out. Seriously, I can't even stand their excessive display of affection even for three seconds, unless I'm not around. You see, this is the low point of having a best friend who is also your stepbrother's girlfriend, you get to see them kissing all the time. I hardly ever see these two when they aren't kissing, including at home. Which I have to say, the grossest thing I've ever encountered in the history of germ box.

"Oh my God, you guys are so cute I think I'm about to puke," I roll my eyes.

Charlotte and Junior stop kissing and just standing there, turning bright, bright red.

"Why don't you mind your own damn business?" Junior says, still blushing.


Another thing about Junior that I couldn't stand is his friends, which entirely constitutes of the Abercrombie-and-Fitch-wearing, basketball-playing, God-complex narcissistic human being that I couldn't help but care less about in this planet. As usual, they are clustered in their usual gaggle by the flagpole, fist-bumping each other and some are making out with their girlfriends.

"Nice skirt, Mary," Chris, one of the guys catches my eye and winks.

"You think my name is Mary?" I nearly scream. "You know what? I don't care. I don't even know who the hell you are."

I look away. Junior is making out with Charlotte nearby the water fountain.


"He's right. Nice skirt," Adam says in between kissing his on-again off-again girlfriend, Vikki, who is straddling on his lap. Too much PDA, you think? I've seen enough.

Here is someone who truly does come from another planet- no, another undiscovered dimension where all the creatures are perfectly formed, yet the most irritable and annoying living creature God has ever invented: Adam Cussler. Quite frankly, he'd probably made the cut as one of the Werewolf pack for some fricking supernatural series- with his jet black hair, brown eyes and well-built body.

Adam is the captain of basketball team and Junior's best friend since elementary school. Our house is like his second home, he always come over to hang out with Junior doing whatever stuff teenage boys do. You think I'd get a respite from him on weekends? No. Because he's everywhere. And just because he's Junior's best buddy doesn't mean I have to kiss his ass all day, every day. The only thing that saves me from swooning at the sight of him (like all the girls) is that he's a jackass. In fact, he is the number one contender for the world's biggest jackass in the history of jackasses.

Ugh- save the racket for the tennis court, I have much better things to do than give a flying duck on this all-men freak show. And what's with all the disparaging remarks about my skirt? I'm kind of irritated by their recycled put-down on it. I glance down at my baby blue knee-length skirt, there's nothing wrong with it. At least I'm not wearing a micro-mini. And no, I've never been the fan of mini-skirt (nor do I own one!). I'm the kind of girl who dresses mostly in girly clothes but that doesn't mean I'm the sweet girly-girl like people always thought me of. Sure, I may look sweet on the outside but so not on the inside.

"It really brings out the blue in your eyes," Adam adds.

"Do you think you're funny?" I point out.

"That question is either sarcastic or just stupid," he sniffs smugly.

"Jeez, I don't know you're such a big fan of skirt but thank you for your really sincere compliment, flowers. It really reflected what a sissy you are, really," I say sarcastically.

"Why are you so afraid of loving me, Evey?" Adam asks teasingly.

"I don't know. Maybe because knowing that you're everywhere in my vicinity makes me feel like wanting to head-butt someone," I reply coolly.

Oh, yeah! Suck it, butt face!

"That's cold, Evey. Ice cold," he says, his smile is tense.

"Look, buddy. You're obviously very busy with your little doll," I beckon to Vikki on his lap, who apparently, seems to be unfazed over the fact that Adam is talking to me whilst she's busy giving him hickeys.

"Are you jealous?"

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe I have to say this to you over and over again. But let me just say this to you in a colorful way: I present you..." I jerk both thumbs to my face, "Girl Who Do Not Care," then I make my own 'I-Don't-Care' gesture, scrunching up my nose and lifting both shoulders to a shrug. "Meh."

For a moment, Adam just sits there giving me blank stare.

"I thought you knew me better," I say to him before walking out brushing past Junior and Charlotte who are still making out.

Hey :)

This is my second story. It's just something that randomly popped in my head and I'm just itched to type it out. I'm just wondering, should I include Adam's POV? What do you think?

I will update this once I get enough feedback :)

~champagne kisses~