Not Just Another Cinderella Story

3. Mysterious Numbers

"You're kidding right? You're really good, especially your skills. I mean you got a scholarship for your volleyball skills, so you're obviously good."

"I guess. Come on, we've got to choose a song."

I grabbed my SONY laptop and started searching for a few songs.

"How about something by The Fray?"

"We could do Look After You. I can sing most of the notes." He nodded and I searched it up on YouTube. We did a quick overview of the vocals.

"I think guitar, piano, and drums like usual," he suggested.

"I think we should make it acoustic. You know, change it up, make it our own." He nodded.

"Good idea." He listened to the song a few more times, getting down a few chords while I messed around on my piano. I wasn't as good at harmony as he was, so I left it mostly to him to write up music for me. He stayed until around midnight, when he gathered up the sheets of handwritten music and left.

"Bye," I said quietly. I brushed my teeth and washed my face before brushing my hair and changing into shorts and a loose t-shirt that I may or may not have stolen from Dylan. After checking and replying to a few tweets and putting up some new posts on tumblr, I turned the lights off and fell asleep.

"CHELSEA!" a voice called out. "There's someone at the door for you!" I scrunched my eyebrows up, confused. I didn't have many visitors. Most people knew not to bother me because of the many times I had shoved fake, plastic populars out of my house. I guess there was a downside to being friends with two hot brothers...I quickly changed into a pair of skinnies and a sweater before running downstairs. A guy was standing at the door. I looked at him skeptically.

"Hi," I said, thought it sounded like a question. I had no idea what he was doing here, and I wanted him to leave. My hair was slightly greasy, my eyes were still tired, my outfit was messily put together.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, but I need to you text this number," he pulled a slip of paper out and gave it to me, "right now. Well maybe not right now, but text it. Okay?" He was about to leave but I grabbed his arm.

"Wait, who is it?" He looked back at me.

"I can't tell. He paid me like a thousand to do this. But he's twenty-one, so not much older than you, he's not some pedophilic creep, and he won't come and murder you at night. He's safe to talk to. I have to go, bye." He ran down the long driveway without looking back. I stared at the number in my hand. Instead of texting right away, I pinned it up on my fridge and went upstairs.

After a shower, a few hair products and a few dabs of concealer and a cup of coffee, I felt much more presentable. I quickly made a breakfast of crepes with strawberries and greek yogurt. I was enjoying my breakfast when Dylan showed up with his gym bag and a volleyball. He raised the ball and his eyebrows, silently asking if I was busy.

"Sure, let me change again." Taking off my clothes again, I changed into a pair of black booty shorts and a jersey that I tied at the bottom with a hair tie. I brushed my hair off my back before grabbing my runners, knee pads and change of clothes before stuffing them in my own bag.

"Done yet?" he called out.

"Yeah!" I ran down the stairs after taking off my carefully applied makeup. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed out the door. We drove to the gym, chatting about random things like cars, dogs, and fireflies.

"So who else is going?" I asked when we arrived.

"Just a few of my friends, and Tyler of course."