Chapter 1

Alexis:

"You have got to be kidding me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Calm down, Alexis. It won't be that bad," my father sighed, slowly coming into my room.

"It's Alex to you. And calm down? Do you know what this means?" I questioned him.

"You will finally have the sibling you've always wanted." He smiled.

"No, Dad. I'll have to take all of my stuff out of the guest room. Then I'll have to start sharing my bathroom. Why can't you get married after I move out?" I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Stop being a brat. Now, hurry up and get your stuff out of there so you can clean the room. They will be here tomorrow morning, and I want everything to look perfect," he stated, giving me a stern look.

I could never take my father seriously. He resembled Tyrese Gibson, bald head and all. My father was very athletic, having played basketball, football, and lacrosse throughout his high school and college years. He went from being a personal trainer to the CEO of a global workout and weight-loss company. My mother left about eight years ago, and we hadn't heard from her since.

My father never really told me about his new fiancé. Just that her name was Michelle and she had a daughter around my age. Because the wedding was closer to where we lived, it made more since for them to just move in with us and work from here. Apparently, Michelle was some sort of therapist, and my father had met her through a session they'd had.

Honestly, I could care less about this woman or her child. Especially if they were changing up my lifestyle. I had too many sneakers and clothes to fit in my closet, so I just hung them around the guest room, which was just a quick walk away, through the bathroom that conjoined it with my own room.

Now I'd have to cancel with my home boys and move back in to my own room. Great.

Before I could even shoot them a text, my cell phone rang. The screen lit up with a fine little shorty I used to mess with. She was cute, but she was way too clingy. Yes, I said "she." I'm one hundred and twelve percent lesbian.

From the time I could read and walk, I knew I wanted a future with another woman. I envisioned bringing home the bacon, wrapping my arms around my wife, and shooting hoops in the backyard with my children. I wanted to chill, with a gorgeous honey by my side.

"What's up?" I answered the phone, somewhat annoyed.

"Hey, Alex. I miss you. Where have you been?" she whined into the phone. "Zoey, I don't have time for you right now. Or ever, for that matter. I've got stuff to do today. I might call your later, but I highly doubt it. Bye." I hung up.

I only had about three good friends. They were all boys too. I gave them advice with girls, and they gave me friendship in return. They never treated me like a girl, and that's what I liked most about them.

Almost forgetting I had school, I quickly ran to the bathroom to get ready. I was already half an hour late. I was surprised my father didn't say anything when he first came into my room.

Since it was the end of August, it was still fairly hot. I dressed myself in a white Calvin Klein sports bra, a red and black plaid long-sleeved button-up (leaving it unbuttoned), khaki joggers, and my Bred 11s. My hair was in waves down my back. I grabbed my black MCM backpack and ran downstairs to my car.

"Yo, you never ever on time. My mom's tripping, thinking school start at ten because you never on time," Jay laughed. Jay had to be my best friend out of the three friends that I had.

"Boy, please. You lucky I even choose to give you a ride. You can walk," I joked.

"Yeah, yeah. You think just because your pops bought you a hot ride, you the shit. I'll teach you otherwise after school when we get to the court." He smacked his lips together.

"Oh yeah, I can't go today. My dad's fiancé and her daughter are moving in tomorrow morning, and I got to have my stuff out the guest room tonight. Sorry." I shrugged.

As if on cue, Zoey found me at my locker. "You know you're late right?" she asked, playing with her hair. Not even ten minutes into my school day and this broad was already flirting.

"Didn't I tell you I would hit you up when I could? Why you bugging me, huh?" I rolled my eyes, trying to find the books I needed for my class.

"You say that all the time, baby. I didn't think you were serious." She smiled.

"Well I was," I replied, seriously.

"Really?" She pouted.

"Yes." I slammed my locker shut and turned in the opposite direction.

The day went by so slow. School never really interested me, but if I was going to be successful someday, I had to get through it. For someone who really hated it, I got good grades. I never failed a class, let alone any tests or quizzes. It was kind of a breeze.

By the time lunch arrived, I was sitting on the front lawn of the school, chilling with my boys. None of us really cared for the food that they served, so we always settled on a large bag of Doritos and each opted for a bottle of water.

"Man, your father's getting married again?" one of my friends, Carl, asked. This caused everyone in the group to burst into laughter.

"Shut up," I responded, laughing.

"No, seriously. What number wife is this?" he piled on.

"Five," Greg, my third friend, answered.

"Y'all are some bitches. Leave my pops alone, man," I exclaimed, throwing a handful of chips at them.

"Hey, don't waste the Doritos," Jay joked.

My father was a hopeless romantic. I had come to this conclusion after wife number three. He ran through women like it was nothing. With every woman he met, he always claimed it was love. With every divorce, he claimed he had never really loved her. Either way, my father was always left heartbroken. This taught me everything I needed to know about women: Never get attached, never tell them how you feel, and never ever get back together with them after a break-up (wife number two became wife number six, which just ended in another divorce).

Call me crazy, but I'd learned from the best.