Plot: I'm in love with a guy. He's cute, sweet, sensitive and I'm sure he loves me back. Yet, there's just one problem: He's my best friend's boyfriend.
Junior Year. Day One.
It was an utter, complete disaster. Today, I mean. So much, that I wanted to cry.
Why, you may ask?
Here's reason number one for you: The blond guy I saw first during History class, was taken as soon as I did so. Well, sort of taken. By whom?
Who else? Karen Carter, my best friend aka the wannabe rebel. And I can't really see why Shane would go for her instead of me. As seriously, what don't I have?
I mean, I'm not really that bad looking. In fact, my sheet of blond hair I like to wear loose, blue eyes, pale skin and the dimple on my left cheek makes me quite okay looking. And I looked pretty hot in the pale pink dress I'd worn for the first day of Junior Year: If I say so myself. But of course, I was just an airhead blonde going to a party when compared to Karen Carter.
As Karen Carter is beautiful in a dazzling, sexy way and not in the "nice-girl" way. She has dark black hair cascading down her shoulders, which can be compared to silk and long, graceful lashes. She's blessed with blue blue eyes and pale skin. Her pink streaks recently sprayed on her hair, navel ring and pierced ears make her look hotter. I am, as I said before, just a pastel-wearin'-blond in front of her.
Considering this, it was pretty dumb of me to point at the blond guy and tell her: "Isn't he cute?" Of course, I should have guessed that she'd hapilly snag him and walk away scot free. I was dumb, dumb, dumb.
"He looks too..um, preppy," she had said then, frowning. "Not my kinda' guy."
Then, the blond guy turned around, and I noticed that he had nice eyes. A greyish blue kind, with golden halos. Perfect eyes, in fact. And those shaggy blond hair had that I-wanna-run-my-fingers-through-it effect on me. Not to mention how, well, intense he looked. And so-
"Oh god," Karen said, her mouth slightly open. "The blondie is a Senior," She pointed at the blond guy.
"Then what is he doing in a Junior class?" I asked.
"Probably held back in History or something," Karen said, not really bothered about the fact.
"Hold on," Karen said, finally giving him her full attention. "He's Shane Hurst, zeh head basketballer."
"Oh." I said again, frowning to get a better look at him.
Truth to be told, I deserved Shane more than Karen. As I just liked him- I didn't care about him being a basketballer or whatever. I liked him for what he was so far. Karen on the other hand, likes him only now, after she found out that Shane played basketball.
But apparentally, our intentions didn't count. Karen got him by the end of History Class.
"He-ey Shane," Karen said, after History, running up to him, as I tagged along.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked her, looking apprehensive at her bold action.
"It's called snagging a date," Karen whispered back, and tossed her shimmery black hair, turning to face Shane.
"Do I know you?" Shane asked, looking bored. He then turned to me, "And you."
I couldn't believe it. Not only was Karen jerky enough to come up to him, but she was now in the recieving end of humiliation. Along with me.
"But you do know me now, don't you?" Karen said, flashing him a dazzling smile.
"Hmm," Shane said, as though considering something.
"I like you," Shane finally stated simply, smirking.
It was as simple as that. I like you. And I remained a third person to the conversation.
"Funny how that happens," Karen remarked. "You up for an evening out this...um, evening?"
I was now a stranger to this conversation.
"4.00 PM, at the Kriss Kross Koffee?" Shane confirmed, his smirk widening, as he surveyed her with amusement. As though he were admiring a precious gem.
"I'll be there," Karen said giving her hair a flick, as she catwalked her way out of the class.
I was now a nobody to this conversation.
Hell, Karen didn't even seem to remember I was there.
"Too mechanical, don't you think?" Shane said, suddenly.
I turned to face him, bewildered. He was talking to me.
"You're friend's...ahem...flirtateous smiles and that catwalk out there," Shane said, grinning.
"Then why did you ask her out?" I asked, looking stricken.
"She asked me out," Shane corrected, looking at me with interest. "Plus, I admire her style. 'Twas tres sexeh."
"Um, okay." I said, still red in face.
"What's her name, again?" Shane asked, looking dreamy all of a sudden.
"It's June. June Brocklehurst."