Not editted, so please bear with me. If you find a mistake don't be afraid to point it out to me in a comment! :) Enjoy!
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I’m still in my damp clothes from playing in the rain as we stand in the ticket line.
“What movie do ya wanna watch?” I look at the long list of movies and catch a girl checking Dylan out. I just roll my eyes and continue looking at the list.
“Um, Breaking Dawn?” I ask nervously. Yes, I had already watched the movie, but it was something I have yet to experience with my best friend!
“Nah, I don’t think I want to watch that again.” He states. I raise an eyebrow questioningly, wondering when he had watched it before this. He notices. “I was drug into it by this chick that I asked out on a date. Never again!” He declares.
“A movie date has to be the stupidest thing to do! Did you at least take her out to dinner first and get to know her a bit?” I ask, knowing that it couldn’t have been anyone from our school. He won’t give anyone at our school a chance.
We ended up watching a children’s movie. Although it was very cheesy (very, very cheesy), it was enjoyable because Dylan and I were both laughing extremely hard. The kid sitting in front of us gave us many weird looks.
Dylan dropped me off at my house, where I finally changed out of my damp clothes and into comfy pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Just seconds after my head touched the pillow, I was asleep, and the storm continued to rage on outside.
***
I awake the next morning to an extremely sore throat, the first symptom of an oncoming cold. I suppose that is my punishment for playing in the rain and not drying off before the movies. Yet even with this flaw in my morning, I refuse to wear the sweat pants that I deserve and instead slip on jeans and a nice shirt. After checking the mirror to make sure it was a decent look, I sluggishly walk up out of my basement bedroom and to the kitchen.
My father stands in front of the stove making bacon and eggs, while my mother is buttering toast. I say good morning to them both before making the three of us a cup of coffee, just the way we all like it: three heaps of sugar, a large shot of vanilla creamer, with whipping cream to top it all off.
As soon as Dad sits the plate of food in front of me, I dig in. The Black Hole – yes, my stomach is referred to as a black hole because it seems like I can eat all the time – seems to be satisfied as I finish off an extra piece of toast. Remembering that Dylan should be here any second to take me to school, I put my plate in the sink and dash back downstairs to throw on my boots and my signature black leather jacket. My hair was tangled, so I brushed it out quickly, making it pencil straight again, my blond locks framing my face perfectly. Secretly, when brushing my hair, I pretend that I am Rapunzel, because my hair reaches down to my butt and is a strawberry blonde color. Not that I would tell anyone this fact.
I make my way upstairs with my backpack on just as the doorbell rings. In some corner of my mind, I wonder why we haven’t just given the boy his own key yet. “You ready?” Dylan asks as I open the door. I notice that his shaggy brown hair is still sticking to his forehead, evidence of recently getting out of the shower.
“Yes.” I say as I’m already two steps past him. I feel his brown eyes watching me as he follows.
Fifteen minutes later I’m strolling through the hallways of Newton High, smiling at people I’ve never seen and saying hi to people I’ve never spoken to. Maybe this is why Dylan teases me about being a social butterfly, I think as I smile at yet another new person. Honestly, I see more people a day that I’ve never seen before than I see of people I know.
Arms suddenly encircle me from behind as I’m lifted from the ground, the strong smell of sweet cologne drifting into my nostrils. “Good morning!” It is Bryce’s voice booming in my ear, deep and filled with country twang.
I am finally released from his hug of doom, so I spin around and greet him with a chipper “Good morning!”
His deep chuckle reverberates through my chest, but I’m used to it. He looks at me with his bright, captivating blue eyes and I realize just how dull my gray eyes are.
“So, how was your weekend?” He asks me, my throat beginning to burn again. Stupid cold.
“It was great! How was yours?”
He runs a hand through his charcoal black hair before replying, “Well, since y’all forgot to invite me to the show, mine was pretty darn borin’. And the dang dog was ‘fraid of the thunder, so she peed all over the house and I had to clean it up!”
His anger didn’t show on his expression, though, with his eyes still twinkling and his smile making his freckle-covered nose crinkle.
Shortly after, I said goodbye to Bryce and make my way to first period. Math. One of the stupidest subjects invented by mankind, because, seriously, who is going to use math in the profession I plan on taking? Movie critiquing involves absolutely no mathematical needs at all!
This class was mainly filled with jocks and nerds, no normal people other than myself. My pessimistic side showed its nasty face as I realized that this would be one of the worst classes of my life, as it has been for the past six months.
I turn to the girl next to me, who is doodling a name on her notebook, “Excuse me, do you know what today’s date is?”
She politely tells me before returning to doodling the name, which, upon further examination, is Dylan’s. Ha, a secret admirer! My best friend will be secretly overjoyed.
Not that she is someone I would ever set Dylan up with. Although nice and decently smart, she is well known for being a big flirt and occasionally hooking up with strangers. She might even have a few STDs. No big deal.
“Leila! Can I borrow a pencil?” One of Bryce’s friends shouts across the room, “I promise I’ll return it at the end of the hour!”
Ah, and so my biggest flaw is revealed: I am too trusting, and therefore, gullible as well. I lend him one of my spare mechanical pencils. When the bell rings and I mosey over to my second hour, I realize that he has stolen my pencil, never to be seen with it again.
Second hour was a less lively bunch than first hour had been, but only because this was my AP English class. So, basically, none of the jocks are in here, meaning almost complete silence.
This teach is a younger man, maybe thirty, that we call Mr. D, short for Duncan. He has spiky blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a nice body build. Many of the girls have crushes on him, but I was definitely not one of them. He obviously knows he looks good; by the way he flaunts it, which is a total turn-off for me. And even though English is not my favorite subject, it is one of my strongest and the classmates are nice.
Plus, none of them steal my pencils!
I finish my worksheet and turn it in just as the bell rings. Mr. D dismisses us and I am bouncing with joy as I walk to my third period: Home Economics. Cooking and baking is my favorite, so I love this class. Maybe that’s what I’ll become: a chef. The math is minimal!
On the other side of the foul smelling, crowded hallway, I see Dylan at his locker looking at his phone. His expression is solemn and his eyebrows are knitted together, an obvious sign (for me) that he was not happy. I try to make my way towards him, but the flow of the current sucks me in and I tumble away, wondering what was wrong with my best friend.
<^> Hope you enjoyed it! I'll do my best to upload soon :)