Gatsby's POV
I almost always wake up right before I have to be at school, throwing an outfit together and hopping in my bright yellow car, arriving just in time for my first class. But today, I wake up an hour before my first of four alarms. My outfit was meticulously picked last night and laid out on the chair close to the foot of my bed, the reject outfit ideas are strewn across my otherwise clean floor.
The story of me and Daisy's history is a complicated one, but here are the cliff notes; Daisy and I met at a middle school dance (classy I know) I was in eighth grade while she was in sixth. I went with a large group of my friends, all of us loud rambunctious middle school boys, but the second I saw Daisy I was drawn over to her. Her strikingly bright eyes and blonde hair that had been curled for the occasion pulled me towards her and away from my previous engagement with my friends.
I confidently strode over to her, she was standing alone close to the door looking mildly uncomfortable. "Excuse me but I couldn't help but notice you were standing alone, mind if I join you?" I said with the most mature-sounding voice I could muster. Daisy had looked surprised by my sudden appearance beside her, conceivably because I was some random older kid walking over to this sixth-grader who was obviously much richer than I would ever be. She wore some designer brand white dress that probably cost more than my entire house.
"Sure." She said in a voice dripping with gold.
I held out my hand, "The name's Jay Gatsby, what's your name." That's the first time I introduced myself as Jay Gatsby, a name that had only lived in my imagination until then.
She grasped my hand delicately, "Daisy Fay." She said, still apprehensive about my sudden interest in her.
As the night went on she quickly warmed up to me, she told me all kinds of stories. Stories of her family, and her friends. I learned her favorite color and secrets she would never dare to tell anyone after me. I became entwined in the web of words she weaved around me. And when the night was over she handed me a slip of paper with the words "Daisy's number (xxx)xxx-xxxx text me" scrawled on it.
That was the first time I saw Daisy, the first of many encounters with her, and even though it's been four years I remember it like it was yesterday.
I'll spare you the talking stage and skip to; Daisy and I ended up dating until mid-summer, exactly two months and one week, we fell in love hard and fast. The first and possibly last time I would ever be so infatuated with someone, were those blissful two months I spent with my Daisy.
The first of my alarms go off, and I am dragged out of my memories and into the rest of my morning.