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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sydney at age 25 has grown to be a very independent, sexy, and successful women she's tough but runs from her past, can Andes (a.k.a. Sydney's Hot soon to be man or hopefully) help expose the real Sydney??? Read to find out

Submitted: July 03, 2015

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Submitted: July 03, 2015



CHAPTER 1 I awoke in a panic gasping for air and drenched in sweat, fighting off the bed spreads that entangled my body. A sob escapes me and then the non-stop tears. Why did I always cry!?! My god, I'm stronger than this. Frustrated with myself I kicked the sheets to the bottom of the bed. My heart beat was so frantic I thought it would jump right out of my chest, my breathing so harsh it felt as if I had just finished a marathon and my body still shaking violently at the after shock of my dream or more like a terrible memory from my past, I shuddered at the thought of it. I stayed still listening to my frantic heart beat slow, inhaling and exhaling profusely at the rhythm of the beat of the fan on the ceiling, patently waiting for my body to get back to its normal state of being. Soon my tears ceased to come for there was no more to shed. Once I composed myself I turned to look at my digital clock to find it was 3:07 a.m. this is earlier than usual I still have time for a quick jog on the tread mill. Either ways I didn't have to be at the office till 7, turning back my attention to the fan I study and concentrate on following one of the with each and every movement round and round, contemplating my life. My every day nightmares always linger with me through out my day, I act older than my age but I certainly don't look the part. I have a models body, one to kill for, hazel eyes and light brown hair, with flawless peach colored skin. Ever days the same old routine, all in black and white each passing by in a blur, every day blending in with the other, till I found no distinction between them. Jesus, I'm depressing even for myself, hesitantly I brought my heavy head to look once more at the clock ugh Only seventeen minutes passed. Not wanting any more of my gloomy company I jump right out of bed with a grunt ready to phase yet another day and get over with it already. And like that my day began, I grabbed a rubber band from my night stand and quickly put my hair into a messy bun and change into my tank top, yoga pants and my running shoes. I walk in to the restroom wash my face and brush my teeth. I quickly make my way downstairs across my luxurious home to get to the gym but risked a quick glance at myself in the mirror....damn I look good, I wish I felt as good. I deal with my nightmare and for that matter of fact any problems I have by running. I push open through the glass doors set the timer and went straight to the treadmill. I was running to the maximum and like that my mind was cleared. Beads of sweat running down my face. Towards the end of my third mile my aching muscles were pleaded me to stop and as if on cue the alarm broke through my daze, startling me, making me lose my footing and sending me flying off the treadmill, sprawled on my ass. Making me all that more frustrated with my life. Damn, already 5:30 time to hit the shower.

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