Someday He Will...

Chapter-1

"Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you.

That is how I know you go on..."

My phone's alarm song rang and the melodious voice of Celine Dion seeped through my ears, penetrating my sweetly troubled dreams. Thought of the day: Never ever set your favorite song as your alarm tune. I groaned inwardly as I struggled to open my eyes and then keep them at that position while they fought back fiercely to stay shut. Breaking up with the realm of sleep every morning was the great tragedy of my life, much like all the other teenagers who preferred staying up all night rather than waking up early. Mondays occupied the second place on my 'Pet-Peeves-Slash-Hate-List'. First was especially reserved for the horrible and tragically miserable place I called my 'school' which was officially christened as ‘Brigid Balfour School’ (named after the famous scientist from London, the city where I then lived). Typical, or rather stereotypical, I know.

Grumbling about my Monday morning blues, I got up reluctantly and slipped my feet into my favorite pink furry bunny slippers while Oreo --my one-year old beagle-- nuzzled his head against my legs. My parents always disapproved of pets (as they did on pretty much everything I liked) but I had still gone ahead and got one (as I did on pretty much everything they disapproved of). Oreo still remains to be my best buddy, much like he always was, which is one of the major reasons I address the dog as 'him' and not 'it'. Anyway, back to the sulky morning.

"Good dog." I mumbled sleepily, patting him on the head as he wagged his enthusiastic-as-always tail, and (I, not Oreo, that is) got ready for a fresh awakening shower.

* * *

The warm water from the power shower finally woke my senses up. I hummed the tune of my alarm song as the liquid cascaded down my bare back. As I started to massage my dark-brown a-bit-lower-than-shoulder-length hair with my strawberry-scented shampoo, a certain someone's thoughts invaded my mind and I could feel a blush creeping on my chin and gradually reaching my cheeks.

"I love the fragrance of your hair. Almost intoxicating, you know..." I remembered him saying this in that deep sonorous voice as he sat behind me in our history class, distractedly twirling one of the strands of my hair around his finger.

All my friends knew that if they so much as dared to get near my locks, they’d have it from me real bad. However, he was more than welcome to tease them whenever he desired to. I always paid special attention to my hair each morning, wanting them to be flawless for him.

You must be wondering who this him in question is, so let’s get there first.

Jordan Winchester-- 5'10", jock, new student and an attractive one at that. Truly a ladies' man, this Casanova had girls swooning all around him, right from his first day at school. Those brilliant blue eyes with darker specks complimenting the silky blonde mop of hair and the chiseled dimensions of his face were just irresistible. His front teeth were somewhat crooked and, while they’d have looked dorky on most of the guys, on Jordan they totally added to his overall rebellious appeal. And that physique! It totally showed how sincerely the guy worked out. I still remembered Jordan’s first day in school...

 It was raining outside and I, for a change, was sitting in the first row as Mrs. Romero –my homeroom teacher- started doing the routine roll call. Astrid was sitting right beside me and Ellie was in a different homeroom. Astrid was leaning towards me as I told her something random about a movie I had recently watched at that time. Mrs. Romero had just called out Astrid’s name when there was a knock on the door. A moment later, the door opened and in swaggered a blonde guy clad all in black from head to toe. His three-fourth sleeved fitted tee clung to the defined contours of his torso and it was evident how passionate he must have been about working out. Apart from black jeans and sneakers, he also wore a beanie of the same shade. I stopped talking to Astrid midway and sat up straighter.