Listen to my Heart

1 - Look Who's Back?

Clarey

"These are amazing shots, Clarey," squealed one of my best friends, Trish. I was showing her all the photos I took from earlier that morning. I was one of the school's best photographers for the school paper. People enjoyed my work so much, some of the people at school even hired me for their personal events. It was great earning money on the side, especially if it's something you're really passionate about.

We had a pictorial on our cheerleaders' practice session that morning and it just bummed me to death to see all those drop-dead gorgeous cheerleaders of Bonita Verde. Confession incoming. Not long ago, I wanted to be a cheerleader. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out for me. I remembered doing a terrible cart wheel on tryouts. It wasn't a pretty sight trying to impress the captain. I shuddered from the memory. Never again, I reminded myself. That memory deserved to be buried in the fiery pits of hell where it belongs.

"You should definitely run your own business someday," she lightly squeezed my arm in excitement. I glanced at her. "Something to think about."

Scrunching my nose, I lifted some of the pictures up to the light. "You really think so?" I started to rearrange the best photos that I took that morning.

"Yes! Girl, you got the skills," she continued to flip through the pictures. "I have the intuition. I know talent when I see one."

"Hmm, photography's just a hobby of mine. It's nothing serious." I threw a piece of crumpled paper at the nearby trash can. Trish just shook her head with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, have you heard about that new boy?" Trish whispered. Here we go again with Trish and her boys. "He just started today, and OMG, he is one hot tamale!"

A hot tamale? Really? I cocked an eyebrow at her but she continued to bat her lashes at me.

"Oh, don't give me that look." I threw another crumpled piece of paper at the trash can, but this time I missed. She stuck out her tongue and giggled. Trish Graves loves boys, and we all knew that.

"You'll meet him soon, don't worry." She said as she wiggled her bushy eyebrows.

Don't worry, she said. Why would I worry? First off, I don't really care who this guy is.

"Ew, Trish, stop drooling." I teased and started to collect all my photographs on the table, slipping them back in my book binder before Trish drools all over them.

"Hey, I'll see you later. And oh, just give me a call tonight, okay?" I gave a small wave at Trish and closed the door slowly behind me. As I turned around, I plowed directly into a tall dark-haired boy.

Whoops!

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I am so sorry!" I apologized nonstop while picking up my stuff. The boy started to help me pick up the scattered photographs on the floor.

Oh, crud.

As I stood up, my eyes surprisingly locked in on two familiar green eyes. Eyes I couldn't seem to forget after all these years. I swallowed nervously. How could I forget? He was the worst thing that ever happened to me!

The devil himself.

Evan James von Detten.

"Wait a sec," he said, pointing his index finger at me. "I know who you are."

Please, do not remember me. Please do not remember me.

I chanted in my head like a stupid idiot. If he ever did recognize me, I must blame it on the stupid dark gray ball cap that I was wearing the opposite way, not to mention my loose white shirt, plus my ripped denim jeans.