It All Began With A Song [Editing]

Chapter 8: Expectations And Reality

Wait.

Singing at the park at night?

Then the memory bounces back to me like a basketball. A month ago, Seth had dared me to sing a song at the park and post it on Facebook or Instagram before the new year starts.

"It'll be like a New Year's celebration." Seth had stated over the phone. "Don't worry, you can dare me after yours is over."

Why did I agree, you might ask? We're just two teenagers that are bored out of our minds.

"Well?" Chase questions, bringing me back to reality. "Stop staring at me and answer my question."

How can I not stare at you when you're practically four inches away from my face?!

Like any normal sixteen year old girl would do in this situation, I idiotically stare back at him instead of answering his questions. His chocolate hair, the top of it pushed up with gel as usual, is cut short behind. Tiny freckles dance around in areas of his high cheekbones and on the tip of his nose, making him have a childlike appearance, but at the same time, it just makes him look more attractive. However, it's his eyes that stand out the most. Those deep forest green eyes are strikingly beautiful.

A million thoughts now wander endlessly in my mind.

The panicking side of my thoughts: Okay breathe, Natalie. Breathe. Come on. Breathing is your talent! Ugh! Why can't I breath?!

The praying side of my thoughts: Please to all the teddy bears out there, don't let him get any closer to my face. Actually, just stay away from my face.

Then, a small part of the fan-girling side of my thoughts: My goodness! Why do you have to be so good-looking?!

Out of nowhere, his phone rings, which surprises both of us. I instantly jolt my head back, too fast. The next thing I know, the back of my head slams to the side of the car; my hands instantly rub the back of my head.

Ow!

Chase chuckles, "You seem to enjoy hurting yourself. Klutz." He then pulls out his phone and checks to see who it was. Cursing and muttering something that I pretend not to hear, he leaves the phone on the car seat and takes his racket with him. He abandons the car (and me, kinda) and jogs down the track that would eventually lead him to the tennis court.

Confused by his sudden attitude, I follow him after reaching for my racket at the back seat as well. "Wait!" I shout out, trotting down the track.

He turns around and yells out, the frustration that's once on his face is replaced with the familiar playful smirk, "Are you that desperate to be near me?" With that, he turns back around and starts to run down the trail, no longer waiting for me.

Humph! He's so full of himself!

Nevertheless, I run faster, practically galloping down the track. You think that running is fun like how they show in those Hollywood romance movies. The main character is running gracefully, and the wind's gently tossing her hair in the back. No, it's actually the opposite of what you predict. My hair keeps getting into my mouth, making me spit out hair every two seconds. To make matters worse than it already is, the wind practically blocks my view of the track.

Stupid wind and stupid Hollywood movies.

Remind me next time to chop my hair short. There's also the fact that I am the slowest runner in gym class. Naturally, by the time I finally arrive at the tennis court, Chase is already there, looking at his watch and shaking his head.