"What. Is. Going. On."
Sam walked into my room, her eyes wide. My once somewhat tidy space was now littered with clothes. I laid face down in the center, on top of a pile of them. Christopher was supposed to pick me up in thirty minutes for my date, and I still had nothing to wear.
In a moment of desperation, I 9-1-1 texted Sam, causing her to claim the stomach flu to get out of her family's mandatory family dinner. That was the one thing that her mother never budged on, so only an emergency would cause Sam to skip out.
"Brielle," Sam said, slightly kicking me with her foot as if to check if I was still alive. "He's going to be here in half an hour!"
I rolled over to face her, groaning in the process. "I know, don't remind me."
As my eyes skimmed over my room, and at the mess that encompassed me, I buried my face in the clothes once more.
"You know what, I think I'm just going to tell him not to come. It's hopeless." Although I couldn't see her, I already knew that Sam was rolling her eyes at me.
"Come on," she said grabbing my arm and dragging my body upright. "Pull yourself together!"
I let out an incoherent mumble before finally sitting up, pushing my frizzy hair out of my face.
Sam let out a loud sigh before cracking her knuckles and tying her hair back. "Ok, let's get down to business. What are you guys going to do?"
I looked down at my phone, still opened on his last text. "He didn't say, he just sent me this." I held my phone up to her face, showing her the message.
Wear something comfortable. Be there at 7 😊 – Christopher
Upon reading it, I flopped back on my floor in frustration.
"You're useless," Sam mumbled, pushing me off the pile of clothes and sifting through the pieces underneath me. After a few minutes she emerged with a pair of ripped jeans and a heather grey crop top.
"Here you go," she said throwing the articles directly at my face. "Now put them on. Chop chop!"
I quickly threw them on, before turning towards my mirror. I couldn't lie, Sam's outfit was the perfect mix of casual and cute that I was looking for.
Sam popped up behind me, admiring her work. "God, what would you do without me?"
"I have no clue."
She steered me away from the mirror before quickly styling my hair into waves as I did light makeup on my face. I was applying a finishing coat of lip gloss when the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat knowing, it was Christopher.
Before I could stand up, I heard Scott yell from downstairs, "I'll get the door!"
My eyes, grew wide. I hadn't told Scott that me and Christopher were still talking. If he found out that he was taking me out on a date, he would kill me and Christopher.
Sam must have thought the same thing because she jumped up and sprinted out of my room with me right at her heels.
"We got it!" we yelled in unison, as we hopped down the stairs. Scott, stopped, his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it.
"It's fine," he said twisting the door knob open. "I'm already here."
"No!" I shrieked, causing him to recoil in shock. I casually walked over to him, lowering my octave as I did so. "Don't worry about it, I know how badly you want to go back to playing your video games." I brushed his hand off the door.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing With The Player | ✓Teen Fiction
When Brielle's dance instructor gets mad at her for missing yet another rehearsal, she gives Brielle an ultimatum: lose her solo that she needs to get into Julliard, or teach Christopher Russel, the school's quarterback, ballet in two months. With...