"That's never gonna happen," I slammed my locker shut, and looked over to my best friend, Gabriella. She was about six inches taller than me with long blackish-brown hair and huge brown eyes. For as long as I have known her (which has been Kindergarten), she's been dreaming up crazy love stories. Today her current story involved me falling in love with the school's hottest football player, Noah Blake. There were many reasons why that would never work but of course, I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to crush Gabriella's dreams anymore than necessary.
"Why not?" Gabriella asked, a small frown forming on her lips. She was the biggest optimist I knew and seeing her so serious about a daydream almost made me laugh.
"Because everyone likes him! And I'm not just talking about girls," I raised my eyebrows in a funny way and Gabriella burst out laughing. I laughed along, hoping my joke switched topics.
She finally stopped laughing, though she wasn't quite ready to give up yet. "C'mon Kelsey! You guys would look so cute together!" She gave me this really sincere look and I honestly wanted to believe her. But I knew I couldn't. Noah Blake was the "perfect" guy. And I use quotations sarcastically, for your information. So he got straight A's, was captain of the football team, and volunteered around the community. It's not that hard, though many beg to differ. Everyone knows he's only doing it because it'll look good on a college application. But hey, I do the same, so who am I to judge? He was also a huge player, with countless amounts of girls jumping at him. I shuddered at the mere thought of me ever dating him.
"Yeah, well he's not my type." I replied. "I gotta go home, but I'll text you after I finish my math homework!" I hugged her before she could protest, and scurried off to my car. It was a cute red Mustang Convertible, which has been my dream car since I was seven. Apparently, having a 4.0 grade point average had its perks.
I hopped in and reversed. There was a huge line of people trying to leave, so I glanced around the parking lot to keep myself entertained. I did a full 180 and stopped when I saw Noah Blake. He was leaning against his car, with two girls on either side of him. Instantly I recognized who the chicks were. Brittany Cohen and her sidekick, Ashley Dallas. Brittany was the queen bee of our school, and poor Ashley was the sidekick who didn't have a backbone. Their blonde heads bobbed up and down rapidly as they fought for Noah's attention. This wasn't new. Supposedly, Noah has been hooking up with the both of them since October and neither one cared.
I focused on Noah instead of the people around him. He was six feet tall and towered over majority of the girls in my school. He's been on the football team since freshman year, and the results were rock hard abs and lean arms. I began to move my gaze up to his face to get a good look of his warm brown eyes, when the car behind me. Noah looked up and caught me gawking at him. He gave a lazy smile, as if saying "Yeah, I look good." Jerk.
I quickly exited out of the parking lot and drove home, embarrassed by the whole situation. When I walked in the house, I was greeted by my mom and little brother, Justin. I answered the usual "How was school?" with the normal reply of "Fine" before grabbing a granola bar and rushing up to my room. I immediately started doing my homework, hoping that the difficulties of math would sidetrack my thoughts. It worked. I finished my math homework in record timing, and then was left alone with my thoughts.
Noah Blake was a jerk. Plain and simple. He used everyone he knew, especially girls. The only people he didn't use were his best friends, John Richards and Scott Daniels. Someone nicknamed them "The Big Three" because they went anywhere and everywhere together. John is the schools basketball star and is likely to get drafted into the NBA straight out of high school. The same goes for Scott, except his forte is soccer. They are the schools hottest jocks and pretty much any girl was willing to do whatever they asked. Not me.
Now don't get me wrong; I don't think I'm better than them. It's just I've dated my fair share of jerks and I know Noah's not any different. I remember in 7th grade where all I used to hope for was a guy like Noah. I'd always wanted the tough sports player who was secretly really sweet and caring. It was one of my biggest dreams. That dream pretty much died in freshman year. The only thing I wished for was a boyfriend similar to Noah, and boy did I get one. Or actually, several. Each one was a monumental disappointment. They had flaws I was unable to look past; one was too dumb, one didn't share any of my interests, and another made me so frustrated I almost jumped for joy when he broke up with me. The one problem that occurred in each one was that I never came first. I was always an afterthought, second best when it came to sports. In the beginning of sophomore year I vowed to never date another dedicated athlete again.
"Kelsey! Come down for dinner!!!" Justin yelled from the stairs. I stared in disbelief at my clock. I finished my math nearly an hour ago. The clock read 6:30. I could have completed my entire stack of homework if I hadn't been thinking about Noah. See? Even when I'm not actually around him, he's wasting my precious time.
I leisurely walked down the stairs, the deep Italian incense calming me. I watched my mom get our plates ready, filling them with large mounds of linguini and shrimp. I slyly glanced at her face, somewhat happy and shocked by all her efforts. Judging by the meals she cooks, you’d think she would be a stay-home mom. Though to her, being a stay-home mom is like being locked up in jail. She can’t do anything without it being productive. She works as a nutritionist, brainstorming foods that can get people to eat their vitamins secretly. When she’s not mixing some weird food together, she’s probably at the gym. Or attending a party of some sort. Either way, there’s barely ever time for her to relax. It’s weird though, because I see my dad lounge around the house all weekend. It’s like she’s running from something. I don’t know what, but then again maybe I don’t want to know.
She handed me my plate, and after thanking her for this amazing meal, I head over to the living room. Most of the time we eat at the dinner table, but on the rare occasion we all haven't seen this weeks Survivor, we enjoy our meals in front of the TV. The episode’s pretty funny, and a few moments later, I've got this huge grin on my face. I can’t help it. I love how easy going my family is. I sneak a peek at Justin, silently approving of his new sense of style. He’s an eighth grader, and finally realized that what he wears actually matters. His deep brown hair was hidden beneath a red hat, which also happened to coordinate with his shirt and shoes. Hmmm. Maybe a little too matchy-matchy. I’ll make sure to talk to him about that. Aside from his clothing, Justin’s practically the best brother a sister could ask for. He had that carefree exterior for most of the time, but I knew deep down he was a complete softy. Skateboarding was his favorite thing to do outside of school, but he didn’t have that rebel, I'm-so tough feel to him.
Thank God. Gabriella’s all for loners and rebels and other isolated groups of society. It’s quite abnormal, considering she’s the worlds biggest goody-two-shoes. Uh-oh. Gabriella. I forgot to text her afterschool! I plowed my food down, savoring the hints of basil in the pasta. Making a lame excuse about homework needing to get done, I bolted up the stairs, into my haven. I scanned my room, trying to figure where I'd left my phone. There! I half walked-half skipped to my bed and sent a quick text apologizing for the late reply.
"It's fine! I forgot about it too ha ha...so how are you?" her text message read.
How was I? I don't even know. I felt happy from my dinner with my family, but the embarrassment from earlier today still lingered with me. It was then I realized I hadn't told Gabriella about my unfortunate accident with Noah. Wait a minute. That sounds weird. We weren't on speaking terms; I've never said more than five words to him. Calling him "Noah" simply seemed way too casual.
"So-so. When I was leaving the parking lot after school, I was checking out Noah Blake and he totally saw me staring. It was the worst." I sent back, turning red from the memory. He probably caught girls staring at him all the time. The only difference was that when he usually caught girls looking at him, they had the confidence to smile back. They weren't ashamed at all; most of them were probably hooking up with him anyway. My phone vibrated on my stomach, and I quickly went to my inbox to read what Gabriella had to say.
"HOLY GOD! IT'S FATE!" she sent back. What? What is she talking about?! My humiliation was 'fate'? Oh wait. Realization dawned on me: she was referring to the ridiculous story she made up. That’s just a coincidence. I mean, there’s no such thing as fate, right?