Michaella is a girl with long, wavy red hair, blue eyes –just a tad lighter than mine– and apparently, almost everyone would just fall on their knees for her. She is a great singer, an excellent dancer, she used to be a majorette and now she almost became a cheerleader except for the fact that a boy that liked her happens to be the cheer cap's man. So that's that. I'll spare no more details.
"Micha." I groan quietly. "Can we lower the volume down? I'm kind of wearing earphones," I say.
"Okay!" She pipes up and I have to hold myself back from saying a quick rude remark.
That's basically what I do, and it's a choice. . . either resist or regret.
"Look, cutie, we've been searching for you since like half an hour ago? Yeah, we're early. So anyways, where are you?"
"Near the flag pole, in front of the Afton building," I answer. It's a pretty big school, so it isn't too easy to find each other.
"Cute! We're on our way!" She squeals and the call ends.
Typical as apparently, people have a knack on hanging up on me. I rarely get to be the one who does that –unless I don't really feel like talking and that happens.
The two incoming best friends, with her, is Isabelli and Madelaine.
Isabelli is a half Spanish, half American girl who –apart from me– is the palest in our group. Her features include her long, curly brown hair with brown eyes and in my opinion, the prettiest smile. She eats like a whale sometimes but what I wonder, however is that her weight stays the same –although, she isn't as thin as I am. I hold that record in our group.
Madelaine is much like her, only she is half English, which meant I have to deal with her accent and strange way of talking almost all the time. Also add her odd insults. She is a portrait of straight, jet black, hair and dark eyes.
And apparently, both of them are still single because one, they're both picky and two, they have certain standards for boys. Micha, however is the flirt.
As I scan my eyes through the crowd, I see that familiar black Accent, I've seen a month ago. Across the whole parking lot, behind the scenes of people walking, comes out Harold Styles in his fancy, neat haircut –a swirl of curled brown cowlick, slightly thick at the top, and thin at the sides– and his uniform.
Stranger never looked better.
Then I feel something heavy on my shoulder.
"Good morning America, and this is Louis Tomlinson, handsomest man in the street reporting to you live from Dominicque International High parking lot where we've spotted a loyalty awardee, Taylor Swift!" Louis exclaims.
Louis Tomlinson is the captain of the soccer team, and Madelaine's cousin. They came here for about two years earlier than we did. And apparently, the duo is a headache. Especially, him. A little too full of himself but overall a nice guy. He is one of my friends too. That also meant, I have to endure his accent as well. . . and he's got a worse posh level than Madz.
He runs his fingers through his messy brown hair and he grins, "How was your summer?"
"Quiet, as you weren't there," I answer, averting the direction of my stare somewhere else. "Can't complain."
"Sure, how are you and Runner?" He asks, pertaining to my boyfriend. That's what they call him because he's fast in the field and it's close to his surname, Renner.
"Fine," I answer.
"You in the mood for talking or should I leave you alone?" He asks, finally noticing my tone.
YOU ARE READING
Find You There (Fanfic Version)
Fanfiction"When you let me go," I trail on, "did it hurt?" He smiles genuinely, "It did. It was the most painful thing I had to do but, I had to. I had to let you go." There are a million places on earth I want to go to, to see, to memorize, to experience. Bu...
