Started as a Wallflower

III: Smitten little Hayley

I never wanted to take longer than five minutes at the restroom. More than five minutes means that you're trying your best to make your foundation look natural, checking your butt, teasing your hair, smothering your face with gloss and glitter, brushing off mascara clumps--stuff like that. I normally hate it when girls bustle in here to change for their 8th period, which is meant for sports. They all go around loudly with bright-colored Nike duffel bags slung on their shoulders, talking about nothing but 'coach said this, coach said that', Galpin clearance sales, and their baller boyfriends. But their constant noises drown my peeing sound, so I'm good with them. I zipped my pants up. I learned from my granna to always pee before I take off someplace. Trust me, traffic is unpredictable and you don't wanna be stuck squealing like some bug that have been stepped on. And if you're thinking bushes, nah, nah, bushes are unpredictable as well. I craned my neck at the crowded mirror. My hair isn't sticking out like Merida's, my eyeliner looks decent. I look okay. I rushed out and immediately slowed down my pace upon nearing Wren.

"Okay that was fast." He raised a brow leerily. "Seriously I won't bail out, I'll wait for you. Go."

"What?" I raised a brow, too. "Can't a girl not take forever inside a restroom?" I innocently said. He still didn't looked convinced but he shrugged in an I-mean-I-guess kind of way.

I grabbed him and linked our arms together. "Now giddy up, ponyboy!"

He raised his arm Nazi-style. "To Chilaaaay's!" Then he marched merrily, dragging me along with him. His mop-top flopping along with him. I tried to keep up with his stride despite these people looking at us. What, can't a jock hang out with someone who isn't carrying pompoms with her? I rolled my eyes to myself but I'm kinda used to it by now. I acted nonchalantly. I just hope I look convincingly nonchalant.

Wren is pretty popular for a sophomore. I think it all started when he came in a month after school started last year. All eyes were on him. His height and build made him look older and hotter and hella attractive. He plays ball too, and he plays good. Like Timothy-good. I learned from him that they hang frequently because they live at the same apartment complex. Tim referred him to Coach Aries, and after being given the opportunity of a one-on-one tryout, he was appointed as varsity pointguard.

I became aware of the possibility that people might think that we're dating. The thought made me giggle into his back. It's nice to be noticed sometimes. It's nice to feel visible.

I held my chin up a bit higher.

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I pretended that his Jeep is a sauna room. I closed my eyes and listened to Tupac playing. Steam is good for your face, I urged. It's either this sauna situation or Antartica outside. Atleast steam doesn't dry my lips.

Another 5 minutes went by. That's it. I'm taking off my jacket. I hope he doesn't get me wrong. I wondered if I'm wearing a bandeau underneath my muscle tee. I forget to sometimes. I crossed my fingers and peered down my neckhole. He is busily playing tag with the windshield wiper, squinting too hard at the foggy, color-drained road to notice. Yes, I see you there bandeau. I stole another shady glance at Wren and finally took off my jacket. He grinned nervously. I held my breath. Oh my god Wren it's not what you think, I'm not like any of those other girls. Oh my god, I was about to blurt out.

He shook his head and looked at me.

Gulp.

"Hey," he broke. "Sorry bout the heater." He smiled rather apologetically.

Phew. Shit.

I turned to look out the window and exhaled slowly. "If you're trying to kill me, well you're gettin' on it."  I bobbed my head and snapped my fingers.

"Aww little Hayley," he cooed. Hayley Williams of Paramore. Thing about him is he never stopped calling me Hayley after he misheard my name during our mid-freshman year. It was awarding day and we were seated right next to each other at the auditorium because we have consecutive last names. Steer and St Clair. So after he had received his award, the speakers blared my name cloudily, making the K sound like H. Typical sucky, ancient school sound system. My hair finalized it too. He never stopped blabbering about how 'coincidentally awesome' it is til we noticed people started crawling out the Briar ampitheatre and we realized that our parents hasn't came yet. We ended up waiting on the stairs outside, debating about which parents are better--Phineas and Ferb's, Dora's, or Timmy Turner's. His mom, Aunt Fey, finally came and insisted that I hitch in, so I did. Wren actually introduced me to her as Hayley. So she, too, have been calling me that ever since. But I'm not really a band person. It's not that I don't appreciate them for no reason. I just wasn't born into a family who listens to loud music that much. My family isn't the Brady Bunch-type. They sometimes jump when I holler at the television whenever I watch NBA. Plus, no one, no one has ever cussed under the St Clair's awnings. What a convent. No pun intended.

We passed by 43 more trees before reaching Chili's. We took 22 minutes to get there, I figured, cos we took off as soon as we're dismissed, at 2:15ish. Now I'm waiting for the glowing number seven of Wren's digital stereo clock to turn to 8 so that it glows :38. 2:38. I pulled my jacket on again. As soon as we're parked properly, he got off the car and ran to my side to open my door. "Thanks," I beamed. He smiled and pulled the hood of my military jacket up my head.

"Nobody wants a soggy Hayley." He winked.

We shoved each other until we were inside. We chose a gloomy booth rather than the twosie by the window with a view of the sad, soggy parking lot. One thing I know about Wren is that he gets too overwhelmed by too much brightness--no he isn't a vampire. He squints at camera flashes, like, whenever we take our ID pictures--Mr. Sandoval has to snap in burst mode whenever it's Wren's turn to get a decent shot of him with his eyes decently open. His phone's brightness level is always at its extreme left. Not to be exaggerating but sometimes whenever we're at Prune Beach, he squints at twilight. Which is why he always has his Ray Bans on.

We chose this booth because it has a poster of taquitos and guacamole dip on the other side blocking most of the light outside. As I slid into my side of the booth, he bumped his head onto the hanging lamp light. The light made his four and a half dimples stand out, causing me to forget to laugh.

He ordered the usual, chili cheese fries and a burrito--without the beans--for me, carne asada and cheesy guacamole chips for him.

After gobbling up the last of the fries, he decided to buy churros because it occured to him that I'm "not stuffed enough". So he walked to the counter and did so. I got my Sharpie out and started doodling on coloring sheet/plate mat.

What's up with Wren?

He prolly've done something really bad that he's doing this to cover it up...to make me feel like I'm the one who owes him.

I glared at his back.

But what if...

This isn't one of his evil schemes.

He's actually not that evil...if you come to think of it. He's sweet. But a bastard.

A sweet bastard.

Not bad...

Not bad at all.

I caught myself smirking at the possibility that he's making a move. I suddenly felt aware of my whole self. I hesitated but I looked back at him.

No fucking way.

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A/N

If youve been reading my chapters for quite a while, you may have noticed my italics and proper nouns-fetish (Chili's, Nike, Sharpie...) omfg, like don't even. Idk i'm just rlly like that cx

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