2Chapter One
I'm supposed to have butterflies in my stomach.
That's how everyone is supposed feel whenever they're being asked out. Especially when that person is Flynn Grelle. To be fair, I suppose it is rather difficult to keep eye contact, but not because I'm nervous. Well, okay, so I suppose I am rather nervous. Insanely, actually. But not in the way I'm supposed to be. I'm not excited or walking on cloud nine, rather, I'm freaking out because this is the last thing I want.
"Hey," he murmurs, his hazel eyes gazing intently into mine. "Are you still with me?"
No, but I can't say that. Nobody turns down Flynn, or even refuses to talk to him. Maybe that's the reason I haven't just walked away and went on with the rest of my life. I certainly should.
Don't get me wrong, Flynn is handsome. It's something I've been acutely aware of since he waltzed into the school three years ago. It isn't because he's a year younger than me, or because I don't think I deserve him or anything. It's because of who he is, who I am. I can't accept his proposal.
"Um... yeah," I murmur, shaking my head. I have to find a way to turn him down without making too much of a scene. "I'm here, I just... ah... I can't believe this is happening."
"Oh yeah, well, I guess that's something I was expecting," he flashes what I assume is his attempt at a cocky grin but he doesn't quite pull it off.
My eyes narrow. I'm pretty good at reading people and he's clearly up to something. There's more to his story that he's not telling me. For a moment I debate trying to force it out of him, but something tells me that that's probably not the best idea. I doubt it will work, almost as much as I doubt that he actually wants to go out with me.
Still, social protocol applies. I have to find a way to turn him down without making him too angry. He'll know how to take my final year and smash it into ruins. I'll be the outcast again. The untouchable.
And I have little doubt that he won't.
"I'm sorry," I murmur, bowing my head respectfully towards him. "But I actually have a boyfriend."
Flynn blinks, clearly taken aback by this, not that I can blame him. Most people tend to be a bit skeptical when they've just heard a blatant lie. I may not be the social outcast anymore, but I'm not much better. It's hard to claw your way back to the top when you have no real desire to be up there anymore. But it also makes it rather difficult to find anyone who would be willing to be seen holding hands with me in public.
It also means that socially speaking, I should be jumping into his arms and taking screaming "Yes!" at the top of my lungs.
"You do?" his voice betrays his disbelief.
"Yeah, um," I tuck a chunk of my pink wig behind my ear best I can and glance away. "He's in college right now, so you wouldn't have met him."
"Oh, well, I'm sorry. I... didn't know." his words are understanding, but his eyes only scream four syllables. "How convient!"
"I deeply apologize," I try again, my heart pounding in my chest. What if he suggests we have something on the side?
"A college boy, you say?" is how he responds, however.
"Yes, um, I met him through my older sister," I'm just digging a deeper hole for myself to crawl into and die, I know that. But I can't stop now.
He's thinking now, and I realize I don't like that look on his face. I clutch sketchpad closer to my chest as if that will help ward off his unwanted advances. He isn't exactly known for dropping things easily.
"Well," he sighs after a second, adjusting one of the clips in his light brown hair. Any other guy would get made fun of for having decorations in his hair but for Flynn it just seems to work. "I suppose I'll have to give it another shot, later then."
"Ah, later?" I ask, my voice squeaking as he turns to walk away. Only the ballsiest and biggest asses would dare say something like that after being told that the girl he was trying to ask out isn't available. Of course, I still don't know why he's actually doing so, but that doesn't change the fact that he's being a complete jerk.
"Well, I mean, I don't want to be a homewrecker, but I can't imagine it won't be too hard to steal a girl away from her imaginary boyfriend."
HIBMCIBMB
"He said what?!" Micah shrieks, slamming his fists down on the table that sits between the two of us.
I hold my hands up and widen my eyes into a pleading look. "Don't freak out."
"Don't freak out?!" he whirls around on a blonde girl sitting next to him, boredly flipping through her homework. "Hey, help me out, here!"
Kit raises her dark blue eyes to meet his in a mostly blank stare. It's hard, but I can see the anger that's burning behind her gaze, but as usual she's controlling it. My best friend has never been one to show her emotions, at least not near to the extent that Micah does.
"With what?" he tone is drawn out and bored. "Isn't it her descision to make?"
"Which she clearly already made!" he throws a tanned hand out toward me as if reminding her of who they're talking about. I throw a quick glance around. We're in the library and it's only a matter of time before his outburst starts gaining unwanted attention from both students and staff alike. "And he's just blatantly ignoring it!"
"Micah," I try again, grabbing ahold of his outstretched hand. "Please don't cause a scene."
Micah shoots a look down at me that's half pout, half glare, before plopping back down into his seat with a "harumph!"
"It's nothing, alright?" I say, beginning to regret answering honestly when he'd asked why I took so long to show. "I can take care of it."
He gives me another glare, this one suspicious. "If you're sure." then he's back over the table again, grabbing a hold of my hand and shooting his most flirtatious smile up at me. "But if you need a pretend boyfriend, you know I'm always available, princess."
I feel an annoyed tick begin in my eyebrow before placing my foot on his chest and giving him a harsh shove. "I liked it better when you were freaking out."
"Well," Kit says, finally speaking up on her own as she sets down her folders and shoots me a small but comforting smile. "No matter what happens, we'll still be here for you."
"Yeah," Micah agrees, rubbing a hand against his broad chest where my foot had been. "After all, it's not like we haven't stuck with you through worse."
Despite my anger at the green haired boy, I can't help but give a smile in return. We're a weird group, the flirt, the shut-in, and the Fall-From-Grace, but it works.
Overly-girly laughter comes from behind me, cutting my good mood off. Even if I didn't recognize the laugh, the looks on my friends' faces gave me enough of a clue to know who it is. Despite my best efforts, I find myself turning around to see three girls walking up to the counter.
Each one of the girls has long, perfectly curled hair, mini-skirts, and heels that bump each of their heights a good three or four inches off the ground. The Mean Girls of our high school. The ones that controlled everything and everyone.
Up until my Sophomore year, I'd been a part of that group. They'd approached me in middle school, claiming they'd needed an artsy girl to complete their little posse and I fit their look perfectly. Naturally, I'd jumped at the chance. For three glorious years, I'd been part of the it crowd, able to get anything I wanted without even trying.
And then the summer before Sophomore year happened. I was driving home from Melissa's-the head of the posse, the Regina George of our school-house after comforting her for nearly two hours because her on-again, off-again boyfriend broke up with her for the millionth time. A drunk driver and t-boned me, and sent my car rolling. I'd been lucky to survive, that's what the doctors all said.
Too bad my hair hadn't been too lucky. The entire back of my head had been shaved for some emergency surgery. Gone was my glorious mane, and although my mom tried to make it look better, it quickly became obvious that she was not a miracle worker. Long story short, the next time I returned to school, I had a short black wig thrown over what fuzz I actually had left on the top of my head.
And as if to make the day even better, the first thing my so-called best friends said when I tried to talk to them was that I no longer fit their image and they were afraid they had to let me go.
I'd been the social pariah for nearly a week before Kit and Micah stepped up and took their place.
"And on that note," Kit sighs, grabbing her bag and standing up. "I'm going to head out. Gotta work soon, anyway."
"See ya," I mumble as she gives my shoulder an encouraging pat.
"Oh, goodness, Belle!" an annoyingly high voice squeals from where Kit has just left. "I almost didn't recognize you!"
I have to restrain from rolling my eyes. Yeah, because so many people show up to school wearing pink wigs. It's all the rage now.
"Hello, Melissa," I force out with an awkward smile as I turn around to meet the redhead's eyes.
"So, a little birdie told me that you got asked out today," she prances over to me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a sort of weird hug. "And by Flynn Grelle, no other."
"Um... yeah." I shift my eyes back and forth. "Unfortunately I had to turn him down. Cuz, y'know. I have a boyfriend in college and all."
Melissa's smile drops into a frown as she pulls back ever so slightly. "Seriously? Belle, we both know that's not true."
I clench my teeth together in aggrivation, using all of my self control not to punch her. "Actually, it is."
Her eyes flicker back towards Micah, before she lets out a long "Uh-huh." she pulls away, a big grin on her face. "If you say so, Belle. Oh, and Micah, please say hi to that broody girlfriend of yours!"
"Kit's not my-!" he cuts off as she turns away, making it clear that she's no longer listening. He lets out a loud groan and runs a hand through his hair. "God, I hate that girl."
"Yeah, well, try being friends with her." I grumble, turning back around.
Micah shoots me a worried look. "Still know what you're gonna do?"
"No," I shake my head before dropping it into my hands. "But I'm gonna have to think of something."
Woah, okay, lots of drama and backstory for a first chapter. The next one will be much more humorous, I promise!
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