What's Love Ch 1
“Bella, you knew what I was like and you married me anyway. What did you expect?” James walks up behind me as I pack up my things.
“I guess I really thought the cheating clause in our prenup would have told you what I expected.”
It was a joke of a prenup really; I wouldn’t see a dime if I cheated and vice versa. The only exception was that he had to pay me $10 million if he was to cheat while we were married. I didn’t want anything else from him. He could have the condo we shared in New York.
I put that in there specifically knowing my mark. I knew he would cheat. He’s the fourth husband I have conned this way, if you want to call it a con. I mean, I married them, signed a prenup, and they still can’t keep their dick in their pants.
James sighs. “Sweetie, stay, please. You are such a good trophy wife.”
I would give anything to cut his dick off with a dull knife. I will never be anyone’s trophy wife. I am smart, sexy, and too damn independent. I want a man that appreciates everything about me, not just one aspect.
“Fuck off, James, everything's final. I'll have my stuff out by this weekend, and I'll expect to be leaving with my check then, also.” Flicking my hair back, I go into the other room to get more boxes and to let the traitorous tears fall.
I wasn’t always so cold and hateful. I used to be sweet, a daddy’s girl.
10 Years Before
“How’s my little Einstein today?” Dad ruffled my hair.
“Dad!” I swatted his hand away, then tried to fix my disheveled hair.
His mustache twitched with his chuckle. My dad’s warm eyes looked me over. He is always worrying about me and my big brain. I am 14 and going into my junior year of high school. I do mostly at home schooling online, but I do go to the high school for certain tests. This year I will be there for the SAT/ACT testing with all the other juniors.
My mom stays at home with me to make sure I stay on task with school. She has some OCD and control issues. But between me and dad we do well with keeping her with us and not freaking out. She has some issues with my IQ that only dad can make her understand.
“I’m good, Daddy. I’m excited to be going up to the high school today. It’s nice being around other teens now and then.” I took a bite of my cereal as dad sat down across from me and mom was fussing over by the sink.
“Isabella, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be going up to that Godforsaken school. Charlie, we really need to talk to someone about that. She is far too young to be up there with all the riff-raff. She needs to keep her head in the books. God gave her a gift and she needs to use it for Him.”
I keep my mouth shut, but I really want to argue with her. I need to go up there to get away from her and her obsessive behavior with my so-called studies.
“Renee, she needs to learn to be social. She must be with her peers to do that. I am not getting into this again, please.” Dad was tired. I could tell with the sigh he let out when he finished speaking.
“Fine.” My mom stomped out of the kitchen and upstairs, and to finish her tantrum she slammed her door.
I let some tears fall, keeping my eyes to my Captain Crunch. I felt my dad’s embrace and I leaned into it.
“She loves you, she forgot her meds, Sweetheart.”
“Why does she keep forgetting, Dad. I don’t think it has anything to do with that,” I said, hurt flooding my words.
“Let’s get you to school, or do you want to stay there today and work?” He let me go, and I could see some tears of his own.
“Yes, please, let's go.” I wiped my tears away, letting the anger go. I loved my mom, I might get frustrated, but at a young age I always knew my mom was sick. She’s still better than she could be.
I went back up to my room to grab my laptop and messenger bag with my notebooks. My room isn’t special. Pale blue walls with my photography of the woods behind my house. Three bookshelves full of books I have read, my cherrywood computer desk with my baby on it. Built her from scratch and programmed her, too. I am considerably savvy in engineering and hacker language. Anything computer related, really. It’s more of a hobby; something to keep my mind going.
I wear a simple Doctor Who t-shirt with my black Hendrix hoodie over it and my ripped blue jeans and converse. I am an average 14-year-old girl, with the exception that I am unbelievably smart and have an eidetic memory. My eyes are the color of chocolate like my dad’s, but my hair is a wavy mahogany.
My dad is the police chief of Forks, Washington. He is the kindest man I could have ever asked for in a dad. He’s so loved in the community, helping troublemakers and keeping crime down. My mom was his high school sweetheart, though no one knew why my dad loved her. She was strange and was raised in a very strict catholic family. My mom was diagnosed with bipolar disorder before having me. They moved to Port Angeles, but came back to Forks when they found our they were pregnant with me.
Riding to the high school in my dad’s police car would probably humiliate a normal teen, but I was just happy to be getting out of the house and seeing other kids. Forks High has a grand total of 350 students, from 9th through 12th grade. It has one building and that's shaped into a square. I don’t mingle too much with the student body, mostly staying in the library using their very light resources. I mostly go because of state testing and the need to get away from my mom.
The few students I did see, really didn’t notice me. That's okay though, because I don’t want them to. I like observing the day to day activities of normal teens in their environment. Sounds creepy, but I am afraid if I choose to vocally interact with them I will either scare them away with my big mouth of facts, or not understand their slang and dynamics. Being a product of homeschooling, the only conversations are with my bipolar mom on meds and my cop father. Which is to say, I don’t have a lot to talk about with a fellow teen.
I walked into the library, seeing a few students that I haven’t ever seen in here before. They glanced my way, but I ducked my head and went to my corner.
“Isn’t that the Chief's daughter? She’s home schooled because she’s super smart or something,” a tinkling voiced asked. I don’t think they realized they weren’t whispering that well.
“Who the fuck knows, she looks too young to be here though,” another girly voice answered.
“Could we worry about her later, I seriously need help with this.”
I put in my ear buds, tuning them out, and began my calculus and chemistry theory homework as well and writing some code. I have to multitask to keep myself from getting too bored. I don’t know how long I was out of it in my bubble before I saw a hand wave in my face.
“Shit!” I yelled, grabbing the offensive hand and pressing a pressure point.
The boy behind the hand yelped in pain.
“Oh my God, let him go, freak!”
I pulled my ear buds out, looking at the teens who were talking earlier. The one I put to the ground had to be the biggest guy I have ever seen. “I am so sorry, you just scared me. I was in my zone.” I started twirling my fingers, unable to make eye contact with any of them.
“No, it's alright. I should have approached you differently. I just want to ask you if you could help me with something. I was walking by, and I noticed you had some code books. I’m taking a computer class for elective, I thought it would be easy. ” He gave a sheepish grin, showing off his dimples.
“Oh, um what kind of code are we talking about? That book is a college level. I only use it for ideas, it’s crap for learning. I am trying to fix it. I’ve emailed the author telling him specifically all the flaws with his theories.” I grabbed the book, showing him my highlights and crazy scribbles.
“Um...” He and the other teens with him are wide eyed. I surmised that I’d freaked them out.
“Sorry.” I sit in front of my computer and go back to what I was doing before they spoke to me, giving them an out to just leave.
“I need help with HTML, it’s just basics.” He sat next to me, and I heard the other chairs move around me as well.
I couldn’t help but smile at him, and he returned one back. Forgetting what I was doing, I quickly pulled out my notebook with my html hacks and guides that I wrote myself.
“I haven’t found anything that I liked, so I wrote something myself. Html is easy once you memorize the codes.”
“See, Em, that’s your problem, you can’t remember what you ate this morning, let alone try to remember code.” I look up to the tinkling voice to see a petite girl with dark green eyes and dark hair that’s not quite black.
“I have some Mnemonic ways that could help you remember.” I grabbed my pen and the notecards from my bag that I use for English.
“How old are you?” The voice was so velvety, I looked up to him, his eyes like emeralds, and his hair bronze. I’d never seen such hair, let alone such an attractive teenager before.
“Um,” I clear my throat not meeting his eyes again. “14.”
They all gasp.