The Heart Wants What It Wants

♡ CHAPTER TWO ♡

❝ ᴏɴ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏs, ɪ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ
ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ɪs ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ғʀᴇsʜ ❞

~~~

🇬 🇦 🇧 🇷 🇮 🇪 🇱 🇱 🇦 :

The midday breeze dances through the loose strands of my hair. I used to be so caught up in my head that I hadn't taken a moment to stop and take in my surroundings. 

I'd expected the weather this far west would be a bit on the chilly side, considering San Fernando Valley is situated so close to the ocean. But alas, I was mistaken. Apparently, the Valley, as my new neighbours call it, has really humid weather majority of the time. 

When there are chillier days, however, the locals make the most of it. Cherishing every last raindrop, and every last breeze. My neighbour, Mrs Campbell, tells me that I'm their saving grace. According to her, once I'd settled into the house right beside the one her and her lovely husband, James, reside in, the Valley had seen some incredible weather. 

I'd laughed it off, said a kind goodbye, and went on my way to find some kind of grocery store nearby. In the span of a month—the amount of time I'd been living here— I'd gone through almost all the food I'd taken with me. And now, I had the dilemma of choosing between buying groceries or paying this week's rent. 

Food is needed to survive. I'm sure I'll be able to live on the street if it comes to that. 

I'd decided to walk, instead of taking my car. For one, I can't afford to waste gas, and two, nature puts my mind at ease. Whether I need it or not. My gaze drifts from the clouds that paint the sky with its pale white bodies, to the houses on either side of me. More so, one in particular that stands out like a sore thumb. 

Among the regular houses, sits a classic Victorian mansion with a ten foot brick wall between it and the outside world. What's weird is that the entire property looks to be—plus minus— forty acres of land, while all the other properties that surround it are probably an eighth of that. 

The roller gate mounted to said brick wall creaks as it opens automatically, spitting out a stunning, matte black range rover. It pulls up a few feet ahead of me at a gas station convenience store. 

Seconds later, a familiar blonde steps out, along with two friends. I realise it's three of pretty boy's friends, and I mentally curse myself for thinking of him as anything but the annoyance he is. 

The blonde, I realise, is the one that had laughed at me after I'd put her friend in his place. Her gaze shifts to mine, and her lips pull into a friendly smile. I feel myself smile back as my eyes drift to her two friends. 

The one is a boy, with dark brown curls, striking hazel eyes that appear to be more green than brown and a kind smile that he shoots my way. 

Next to him is a girl with bright red hair and the palest teal I've ever seen for eyes. Hazel eyes says something to her which makes her look toward me. She nods and smiles. I wait for a weird feeling to settle in my stomach. Nausea. Anxiety. Embarrassment. Nothing comes.

Maybe they're friendly, despite me thinking they might not be. 

My feet carry me into the gas station. The bell rings above my head, indicating to everyone in the store of my arrival. The strong scent of hot dogs and cheese sauce hits me in the face, and weirdly enough, my mouth waters at the processed meat smell.

Maybe if I spend five dollars, at the least, here everyday, I'll be able to afford the week's rent. Seems achievable. 

A packet of Instant Ramen, hot cheetos and a Pepsi Max later, I decide that's a good enough amount for dinner. I startle when the bell chimes to indicate someone's arrival, not realising I'd been in my own head. 

I shake my head against the sudden rush of unease that flows through my system. Goosebumps littering my forearms. I turn toward the front of the store, with paying for my handful of goods at the forefront of my mind. 

When suddenly, my foot meets a slippery section of the tiled floor. In the same motion, my ankle twists and an agonising pain shoots from it, all the way up my leg and throughout my body. I brace for the sheer pain of the tiling to kiss my back and head, but it never comes. 

Hands, I realise— warm, gentle hands— are holding me up. At a weird angle, but up, nonetheless. 

The person, who saved me from a severe ER visit leans in toward my ear, their hot, minty breath caressing my earlobe like the ocean would a shore. 

"You're a clumsy little thing, aren't ya?" A rush of adrenaline follows the familiarity of his voice. Including a flutter in my stomach, but we disregard that. 

I jerk myself out of his grasp, ignoring the deafening pain my ankle is causing me, and twist—more like, hobble— to face him. My heart flips in my chest when his lips tilt up in a wide smile, dimples and all. Disappointment, in myself, weighs heavy on my chest. 

How dare I let a boy—who I'd only met mere hours ago, no less— affect me this much? 

"Refer to me as a clumsy little thing one more time, I dare you. But don't be surprised when I cut that tongue of yours off and shove it down your throat." Somehow, his smile widens further, and his perfectly perfect eyebrows shoot up, nearly reaching his hairline. 

But I catch the small details. The way a sparkle awakens in his eyes as if from a year long slumber, making the grey of his irises nearly white. And the slight quiver of his lower lip as they stretch to form a cheshire cat smile. A smile I've now associated with him. 

Despite being surprised at my sudden violent outburst, amusement lingers at the forefront, hoping to be seen by any onlooker. That realisation alone brings a wave of annoyance. I've never met anyone as amused as him by any moving thing before. I bet he'd laugh at a slice of falling bread. 

"My bad, chéri." He says, lifting his hands up in the air as a form of surrender. "At least, now I know for next time, right?" 

I turn abruptly, inhaling a shallow breath here and there to make the pain in my ankle subside by at least a fraction and move toward the cashier. Paying, I smile when I see I hadn't spent the entire five dollars I'd set aside. 

When I finally make it outside, the walking annoyance calls for me, but I act as if I'm deaf. I can not hear a single thing around me. All I know is that I need to get home, eat, pray my ankle isn't broken, and go to sleep since it's a school night after all.