Chapter 7: What You're Saying Is Utterly Impossible

Gwen looked at me like I was growing three heads. "W-what did you say?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in the process.

I rolled my eyes. "Zach Matthews invited me to his party - and he said I can bring anyone," I answered drily.

As expected, she clamped a hand over her mouth dramatically and gave me one of her I-can't-believe-this looks. "Oh my freaking gosh," she chuntered. "This is... incredible."

I shrugged. "You're making it sound like it's a big deal. It's not like I just won a million bucks or something."

She turned to me and gasped in a melodramatic way. "Carli Davidson, this is a big deal!" she exclaimed.  "Zach Matthews is one of the best party hosts in town! DJs of the highest caliber play in his events— can you imagine how awesome that is? His parties aren't like those cheap typical high school parties you normally see. From what I've heard, even celebrities can't top off the first class parties he throws— that's how top-notch they are. And of course, it's pretty exclusive too. Only the popular people are invited - and some of his deep-pocketed friends outside school." She then looked at me with a skeptical expression plastered on her face. "Therefore, the chances of getting an invitation are quite slim to none. That's why I'm surprised you got one..." she trailed off, eyeing me suspiciously.

"So, what are you trying to say?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

"Well," she began, rubbing her chin attentively. "If my theories and assumptions are correct," she turned to me and smiled creepily, "I'm guessing Zach Matthews likes you."

My jaw dropped after hearing her words. "What?"

That's utterly impossible, I thought. Sure he talked to me, sure he gave me a small kiss - I blushed on that thought - but this is the Zach Matthews we're talking about. One of the most popular guys in school, one of the richest in town, and definitely one of the most perfect people to ever step here on Earth. Him liking me was like Harry Potter being friends with Voldemort. A perfect analogy— because as hard as it is to admit, it was impossible. We belonged to two different worlds— he's like Mount Everest while I was a tiny anthill.

Long story short - he's completely out of my league.

Gwen is definitely out of her mind for even considering that.

"Well yeah," she spoke, pulling me out of my reverie. "That's the only— and most— logical reason behind all this."

"You do realize that you're jumping into conclusions, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just think about this," she said, throwing her hands in the air as she explained. "Why would he invite you— among many people— if it wasn't for the fact that he likes you?" She raised an eyebrow, as if testing me.

"Hmm," I pondered. "Maybe he's just being friendly and uh, welcoming?"

"Yeah right," she scoffed.

"Gwen, I just met the guy! There's no way that he— ugh. Why am I even arguing with you? This is ridiculous."

She smiled smugly. "Precisely. Why argue when you already know that I'm right?"

I snorted. "You're nuts."

"Whatever," she replied and pulled my arm. "I'm just gonna let the matter drop for now since we certainly have more important things to do."

I looked at her in confusion. "Like what?" I asked.

"Wouldn't want to look like beggars in the biggest party of the year, right?"

I nodded slowly, still not understanding what she's trying to say. "Uh-huh. So?"

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