Promise Me

Promise Me Part 7

                                                                           Chase's P.O.V.

          She was gorgeous. You know the type, blonde, curvy, petite, cute. But this girl, she had something else. She knew she was beautiful. She radiated it like heat from the sidewalk on a hot Summer day. She floated and flirted and flitted through the halls standing tall in her heels. I drank in her sweet words like they were meant for me only, like she'd never said them to anyone else. Why me? I felt like moaning. You're too good for me. Yeah, she had me, Chase Armstrong, begging on his designer-jeans-covered knees. Damn, that girl. She ruled the school.

          I'd known popular girls at my old school. I'd lusted over them and dated them and played them like cards. So I knew how they worked. They buttered you up with their faked charm, seduced you with their beauty, while they were really so insecure. Her, Cherise, i wanted her to want me, I wanted to open her up like a book and find that insecure core, the part of her that kept glancing away from me, across the room and meeting the eyes of someone I couldn't quite make out. The part of her that left her lunch sitting on the table, uneaten. The part of her that wasn't quite sure of herself, the part that had stumbled. I could see it in her pretty eyes, and in the controlled, almost controlling, way she'd flirted with me.

          I thought about her all day long. From the time I set foot in Math class after Lunch, to the car ride home, listening to Bruno Mars in the driver's seat, to lacrosse practice (I'm team captain), to when my head first hit the pillow at night.

         Love at first sight had never felt so right.