Ch. 2
AMBER
"Dude, how the hell did you get in here?!"
The boy peers around the room, a look of what seems like surprise on his face. His eyes fall on Peyton's bed, and he reaches out and slowly spreads his fingers out over her covers. Then, he turns to her mirror. His eyes widen, and he moves towards it quickly. He places both his hands out and touches the mirror, saying, "This...is a mirror. I have never-"
"Hello?!" I snap. It's like watching a child wander around. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in my room?"
"Amber, calm down." The boy moves his gaze from the mirror over to me at last. I suck in a breath as I finally get a good look at him. He's absolutely stunning. Glossy black hair, beautiful tan skin, a sharp jawline, and a strong physique. My eyes do a slow once-over from his feet to his head. His fit could use some work. The lime green shirt and khakis are quite the eyesore, but what catches my attention most are his eyes. His hair covers his forehead and eyebrows, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that his eyes aren't covered as well. They're a brilliant blue, like staring at the ocean. He's probably the most gorgeous person I've ever seen in my life.
I'm too stunned to speak for a moment. "How...how do you know my name?"
"Well, I am your-"
"You know what?" I say, shaking my head. "I actually don't care. This is too much for me to process right now, and I'm already having a shit day, so I think I'll just go do some work in the library." I jump off of my bed and walk over to my desk. As I pack, I ramble, "As you can see, Peyton's not here, so feel free to leave after me if she's who you were looking for. If not, enjoy my room. Just don't go in my fridge."
I straighten up, tossing my backpack over one shoulder. The boy is fully facing me now, looking at me with a blank expression. "I would advise against leaving," he says.
I roll my eyes and give him a salute. "Nice meeting you, weirdo."
It wasn't everyday a beautiful stranger just walked into your room and demanded to talk to you, but I've seen enough horror movies to know that this was how they all started. I stroll past him towards the door. His eyes follow me, but he doesn't speak. I reach out, my hand inches from the doorknob, when a blast of hot air surrounds me. Suddenly...I'm standing back by my desk.
I blink. Then I spin around in a full circle, my backpack dropping to the ground. "What the-"
"I did say I wanted to speak with you, yes?" My eyes snap over to the boy. He's in the same position. I'm the only one who had moved. "If you leave, how will we talk?" he continues.
Okay, now I'm starting to get creeped out. My heart is pounding in my chest as I try to process what just happened. I stare at him for a split second longer, and then run. This time, I make it a total of three steps towards the door before a rush of hot air hits me again, and I'm suddenly standing directly in front of him. Standing so close to him now, I just barely come up to his chin. He's got over half a foot on me. And his eyes...
I'd thought they were just blue. Looking at them now, I notice the flecks of gold mixed in. Dazzling wasn't nearly a word strong enough to describe the beauty that was the boy in front of me. The gold spots in his eyes seem to swirl through the blue, like looking at a golden pool. Gasping, I stumble backwards and fall.
The boy takes a step towards me, and I slide backwards. "Get away from me!" I snap. "What the hell is going on?"
Towering over me, I could've sworn he didn't seem real. The way he was standing, the way he was looking down at me...I've never felt so small and insignificant in my life.
"Amber," he says again. Hearing him say my name so clearly sent shivers up my spine. His voice was so deep, smooth but commanding. Every fiber of my being straightened, telling me to shut up and listen. "You cannot run from me."
I can only stare as he kneels down in front of me. His hand reaches out, and I squeeze my eyes shut. This was it. Was this how I died, or was this some crazy dream? I didn't know.
I feel his finger touch the center of my forehead. I groan as I felt warmth shoot through me, pulsing from my forehead and spreading to the rest of my body. I go limp, falling forward into his arms. He's unbelievably cold. "What...?"
"Do not try and speak." Tightening his grip around me, he stands. It's getting harder to keep my eyes open.
"Hey," I mumble, clenching my fingers in his shirt. He glances down at me. "What...are you?"
He opens his mouth, and I pass out.
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDWdQ8qdv7G
***
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvEAXM3PVKu
The first time I really met Charlie Winters, I was in the 10th grade. I was out taking pictures of the track team for the Hot Seat, which was my school's shitty excuse for a newspaper. But I didn't care too much about how awful our newspaper was; I just enjoyed being out taking pictures. The weekly Hot Seat meetings were pretty much my only reason for coming to school.
"Excuse me? Are you Amber Rawling?"
I turn, the camera I had up to my face dropping to my side. He surprised me when he approached me that afternoon. People like him didn't usually talk to people like me. "Yeah, I am."
"Great," Charlie exclaims, spreading his arms. "I just joined the team yesterday as a sports columnist, and Mr. Hoffman said that you would act as my personal photographer."
I scoff. The first conversation we ever have, and this is the topic? "Your what?"
"Well, he said you'd kinda be like a mentor as I learn the ropes. He said you take most of the pictures for people's columns, so I should come talk to you."
I wasn't sure what to say at first. I'd heard rumors that he was thinking of joining the Hot Seat, but I'd disregarded them as simply that. I think him being a sports columnist is what surprised me the most. But I guess everyone seemed so impressed by his basketball and soccer skills, and his looks, that they didn't really care if he was qualified to write a good article or not. With sun-kissed skin, sage green eyes, blonde hair, and a smile that could be on billboards, Charlie Winters was too handsome for his own damn good. He'd been that way ever since middle school.
In all honesty, it pissed me off a bit. "Alright, fine."
It wasn't an easy, or fun, partnership at first. Charlie's popularity was well above my own social standing, putting him at the front of my high school's class of student royalty. It's hard to mentor someone when you can't get through the crowd to talk to them 90% of the time. It felt like we were just born to be enemies, and I treated him as such. Our conversations tended to be short, awkward, and at times even hostile if I felt like being difficult that day. There wasn't anything we had in common besides the newspaper, anyways, so I wasn't too eager to befriend him.
Throughout the weeks, though, it became difficult to continue the hostility. It turns out he wasn't actually that bad of a writer, and a lot of the articles ended up coming out pretty decent.
One day, I was finishing up taking pictures of the girls' basketball team after qualifying for states. My phone buzzed with a message, informing me that my mom's meeting was going to run late and she couldn't come pick me up. "Shit."
A voice behind me spoke up. "What's wrong?"
I whirl around. "Charlie! You gave me a fucking heart attack, dude."
"Sorry." He throws his hands up and grins sheepishly. "I was just waiting for you to be done taking pictures. You look upset, though. What's up?"
"Nothing." I shove my phone into my back pocket. "My mom was going to pick me up, but something's come up. Now I'll probably have to walk."
He frowns. "Walk home? That's ridiculous, you shouldn't have to do that."
"It's not like I have another option," I say, shrugging. "The buses left a while ago."
Charlie opens his mouth, then closed it. After a moment, he says, "Okay, I'll give you a ride home, then."
I roll my eyes. "You don't have to do that. I can walk."
"Yeah, that's not happening."
"It's not like I don't have legs, Charlie," I say, squinting at him.
"It's not like I don't have room in my car, Amber," he shoots back, crossing his arms.
I throw mine up in exasperation. "You don't...but you don't even like me!"
That seemed to get his attention. "Is that what you think?" When I don't respond, he huffs a breath and rubs his eyes. "Jesus, Amber. I don't not like you. Did I seriously give you that impression all this time? Actually, don't answer that. If that is what you think, then this should change your mind. So please, let me drive you home." When I still didn't respond, he added, "I'll let you pick the music."
The car ride ended up being not as awkward as I'd imagined. Charlie actually liked a lot of the songs I played, and even ended up asking for the names of a few of them. "Alright," he says. "Now it's my turn to put you on."
Charlie's music was all over the place. I thought popular kids only listened to the Top 40, but he had multiple playlists for every mood imaginable. One particular alternative band caught my attention, and without realizing it, I reached forward and turned the volume up.
"It's Glass Animals." I look over at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road. "It's a nice song, huh? They're actually one of my favorite bands, believe it or not. Not that I go around saying that. Their music is such a vibe, though. It's awesome. You should check them out. I'm, like, obsessed, and I'm sick of not having anyone to talk to about them." His hands slid up and down the steering wheel, and I focused on them so I still looked like I was looking at his face without actually having to look at his face.
"Music is...I don't know," he says. "I feel like a person's music taste says a lot about them. You know, like, as a person. And I think some people try to hide themselves, so they listen to what other people listen to." He stops then, letting out a weird laugh. "Maybe that's why I've got a playlist for everything, huh?"
I said nothing for a moment. I hadn't been expecting to have anything in common with Charlie Winters in a million years, let alone the same music taste. But this was the longest conversation we'd ever had, and I felt like there was more to what he was saying.
"Well," I eventually say, "I've always thought that people with a playlist for everything have the best personalities. Plus, that means you can give me hundreds of new songs to listen to. So, I don't see a problem. Just...no country, okay?"
Charlie finally looks over at me, and he smiles. It felt different from all the other smiles I'd seen on him. Those always felt fake. Plastered on. This one, though, seems genuine. I had to control the urge to smile back. When we arrived in front of my house, I was almost sad.
Almost.
"Hey, whoa." Charlie reaches out and grabs my wrist as I'm getting out. "You're just going to leave without saying anything?"
Sigh. And just when I'd been starting to enjoy his presence. I sit back down in the seat and poke out my bottom lip. "Thank you soooooo so so much for the ride home, Charlie Winters. How can I ever repay you?"
"Hilarious." He releases my wrist and runs a hand through his hair. "I meant, you were going to leave without saying goodbye, weren't you?"
I stiffen. "So?"
"Well, you know, some people might consider it rude to not say goodbye to a friend."
"A friend, huh?"
"Yes, a friend," he repeats. "I think we're well past the acquaintance phase of this relationship. You're actually not too bad to be around when you aren't calling me every curse word known to man. And you've got secretly great taste in music."
"Is that so?" This was news to me. But hearing one of the most popular boys at my school say that he actually enjoyed my presence and wanted to be friends...it definitely surprised me. I swallow. "Alright, then. I accept your friendship. Goodbye."
I turned to get out again, and he laughs. The sound struck me. I'd heard him laugh before, of course I had; Charlie was one of those people that just radiated sunshine. He was always laughing or smiling. But this one, to hear it and know I caused it...it replayed over and over in my head the rest of the night.
Maybe a friendship with him wouldn't be so bad.
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoLK4kacKkS
TO BE CONTINUED...
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQUXKt7Vl0h
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe8aywes9Ug
Hello again and happy Wednesday! I felt like sprinkling in a bit of backstory on the terrible, PTSD-inducing ex-boyfriend during this chapter. Amber and Charlie's past will definitely continue in later chapters. For now, Amber's got bigger problems; like, what to do when an angel kidnaps you.
See you next week!!
-Zuffy <3
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhratkowlWn
306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJpEAG5vw6P
