I wake up to the blaring of my alarm clock. I snap open my sleep-filled eyes and send my bubblegum pink alarm clock an extremely annoyed glare as if it could actually see me. In my world, if something was annoying it didn't matter if it was inanimate or not. Glancing around the room, everything appears the same; pale pink walls with sketches of Hawaiian flowers painted on, chestnut dresser scattered with makeup and spare change, dark wooden floors, and a bedside table littered with books and pictures.
My eyes fall on one particular picture of Dex, beaming up at the camera with his arm around me at my sixth birthday party. I am automatically covered with guilt when my eyes glance just to the right and see the picture of my boyfriend, William. William is admittedly handsome; a sandy flop of hair covers his chocolate eyes, and his angular, yet masculine features aren't something you find everyday. I mentally curse myself, and promise to only think about William's handsome face the rest of the day.
No matter how hard I tried, even half a country and a three-year separation could keep me from thinking about Dex. I was dreaming about meeting the owner of my first kiss way to often, and I could only assume that it was because his birthday was tomorrow; the same day as mine.
I sigh and force all thoughts out of my head except one; get ready for school. I place my narrow feet on the floor and begin the journey to the bathroom. Stripping out of my flannel pajamas, I crank up the heat of the shower to the maximum, and step inside. Letting the scalding water rise my thoughts away, I run shampoo and an extra load of conditioner through my hair, and rinse off. I hated the feel of salty sea water in my hair, and since yesterday was my amateur surfing competition, my hair was loaded with it.
I had been surfing since I first moved to California when I was thirteen, and even though I first cringed at the thought of becoming one of those tall, blond, Californian, surfing girls; it was too fun to quit.William hates me surfing. He expects me to either get eaten by a shark or drown, and even though I try to convince him that it's highly unlikely, he still has a mini heart attack every time I fall off my board. I think it's adorable.
He plays football, though, and that's way more dangerous in my opinion, so I just put up with his rants and try not to discourage him about football. He's the quarterback, after all. Dex played football. Crap, I did it again.
It is then that I end my shower and dry off. I blow dry my waist-length blond hair, and bring a straighter to it, straightening to as close to perfection as it can be. I want to keep my makeup minimal, us usual, and apply a light layer of of mascara, concealer, and a light dusting of pink blush.
Pleased with my improved appearance, I walk over to my closet. My overall bedroom is on the smaller side, but my closet is basically the holy grail of all closets. I'm nearly certain that the person who used to have my room was a self-obsessed rich lady with a clothing addiction. My closet has high ceilings, a chandelier hanging down, five separate racks just for shoes, and a ten foot stretch of clothing racks.
Of course, I barely take up a quarter of the space, but I do the love the impressed looks I get when I show my friends the closet. Plus, it's great for hiding in. I walk into the room, and rake my eyes across various pieces of clothing. I settle on a flowing, ruffled blouse and skinny jeans, and pair them with my favorite pink Converse.
Suddenly, I hear the buzz of my crappy flip phone, and rush over to it. Please, be Dex. I shake my head. Please, be William. William's name blinks up at me, but I find myself disappointed. Nikki, pull yourself together, you have not seen Dex in years, get over it!
I flip open my phone, and read; I'm outside ur house w/ coffee and bagel, ur welcome. I luv u.
I laugh lightly, and text back; I'm coming.
I grab my striped tote, and walk out the door. Mom is waiting for me in the kitchen; armed with open arms and a briefcase. Mom was a professional woman; she was never a hair out of place. She had long, flowing blond hair, but she always braided it or put it in a bun, which I hated because her normal hair was so pretty. She also had deep blue eyes, yet I somehow inherited Dad's emerald ones. He died in the army when I was five; we don't talk about it.
Mom gives me a brief hug, before scurrying out the door. Mom was always quiet; so mornings were usually soundless. I wave to her as I walk out the door, and then catch Will out of the corner of my eye.
He holds a plain bagel with cream cheese, and a piping cup of coffee. Man, I love that kid. I smile hugely at him, and then run towards him from my step on the porch.
"Will!" I beam, jumping into his arms just as he puts my breakfast down.
"Hey, Nikki!'' He says, twirling me around. If anyone looked at us, I'm pretty sure that they would assume we were recreating a scene from a romance novel, but I don't care. He carefully puts me down on the sidewalk and we stand there, smiling like idiots at each other.
"Well, we should get going," he says, motioning toward his priceless red pickup truck. Will was rich. I'll leave it at that, but he refuses to give away his pickup. To him, it's worlds best car. I nod, and he opens the door for me.
"Why, thank you," I say, patting his head. He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before going to the driver's side. We drive together in silence, and reach the school way too fast.
Washington High School, was my place of torture. I mean, I got good grades; was even in honors classes, but I hated sitting in that school all day. I know school is important, but they really could make a better effort to have fun installed in school system. The two people that get me through the day; Allison and Will.
Allison was the funniest, most outgoing person on the face of this planet. She was the first to welcome me when I first moved here, and the last person to ever be mean. Allison has thick, black hair that twirls its way down to her waist, stunning blue eyes, and towers over me at 5'11. She once got us kicked out of a bowling alley because she typed cuss words in as our name, and then proceeded to freeze the screen.
I can see Allison skipping towards us now, towing Mike behind her. Mike was her boyfriend, and I have to admit they are really cute together. Mike is quiet, and reserved, and she balances him out perfectly. Mike is also 6'3, so it's safe to say that if Allison wants a tall, football player, Mike is about her only option. That is besides William, whom I have to kiss by standing on my toes. All I know is that when Mike and Allison have kids, they will be freakishly tall.
"Hey, Nix!" Allison exclaims, using her nickname for me. She always had trouble coming up with a name for me, and because Nick didn't sound right, she called me Nix. Mike nods his head toward me, and Will, barely making contact. It's so cute how shy he is.
"Hey, Al!" I reply, hugging her back.
"Nix, do you have that routine down for tonight?!" Allison squeals, breaking our hug.
"Totally, I'm so excited!" I say, with real enthusiasm. Tonight was the dance teams big performance at the last assembly of the year. We had been practicing our routine for months, and Allison and I both had solos. School would be ending soon, and the school always liked to end out the year with a dance. Usually, it was a routine about growing up and changing, but tonight it was more dark, and we were so excited to preform something new. Suddenly, the bell rings, and William pulls me into a kiss before sprinting up the stairs with Mike to their chemistry class.
"Come on, Nix. Let's get to class." Allison sighs, pulling my arm up the stairs. Allison and I both had history first. Frankly, it was an incredibly boring way to start the day, but with Allison sitting next to me it made it better.
We slide into class not a moment to soon, and turn to face Mr. Hill at the front of the classroom. Mr. Hill is a disheveled old man, with a scraggly beard, and a turtle-like face. Half the time, it's hard to take him seriously. Usually, we start out by handing in any homework, so I automatically take out my essay on the Civil War, and place it in front of me.
However, Mr. Hill starts off with, "Good morning class, today I will be introducing a new student to the class. He has come all the way from Wisconsin so please be welcoming and accepting."
I suck in my breath. I am from Wisconsin. It couldn't possibly be him, could it? I'm suddenly distracted from my thoughts when all the single and taken girls alike sigh dreamily at the newcomer standing in the doorway. I gag on air and start coughing in weird spasms, gaining the attention of all the students. I can't make any sound, I just sit there, gaping like a fish. It is then I hear his voice, "Nikki?"