"I hear you're a player. Nice to meet you, I'm the coach."
It all started when the school player broke Selene's best friend's heart. After promising to avenge her best friend, Selene Calloway found herself in a situation; get Declan Grey to fall for...
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It was little more than a week later when Declan called her.
She had a weird feeling of deja vu as Declan had called her a few days after Zoe's birthday--the night she had done her AP Calc test--and came over with ice cream to comfort her when she began sobbing on the phone.
"Can you come over?" he asked when she answered the call.
There was a hint of apprehension in his voice.
"What's wrong?" she asked, already putting on her shoes. Was he okay? She tried to figure out how fast she could get to Declan's house without getting stopped by the cops.
"I-I think I have some good news."
She began to relax. "Do I get a hint?" she asked, her voice lighter.
"Nope."
"Please," she begged.
He hummed as if considering it. "Hint: wear something nice."
"I always wear something nice," she said, looking down at her sweatpants. She had made out with Declan last week in these sweatpants, his fingers cold from the ice cream as they itched along her waistband. He had murmured against her lips how much he loved how they looked on her.
"I mean, you're not wrong."
"I'll wear a dress or something," she said.
She didn't understand why a smile overtook her face as she talked to Declan. But she sat there, alone in her bedroom, smiling as he spoke to her.
"Okay, you've forced it out of me."
Selene raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"I got into UBC."
"You applied to uni?" she asked then smacked her forehead.
"Yeah. I talked to the guidance counsellor and she said that even though I don't know what I want to do, I should still apply for something. So I applied to UBC and didn't really expect anything. I got the letter today."
"What'd you even apply to?" she asked.
"Media Studies." Declan was the only grade twelve she knew who was taking a senior-level art course as well as Creative Writing. He had told her that he had first taken the Creative Writing course in grade eleven to piss off his father but he had grown to like it. "I submitted a portfolio with some short stories, photographs, some art pieces and didn't think much of it."
"I'm so proud of you," she said. "Congrats."
"Yeah, and UBC isn't that far from SF," he said and trailed off.
