It All Began With A Song [Editing]

Chapter 2: Obsessed With The Number Two

Unfortunately, at that moment, I'm not sure how to respond; thus, I freeze in my place much like an idiot. Then it dawns to me that I'm suppose to answer back. So, as always, being the stupid me, the next few words I manage to choke out sounds close to this: "W-what? I? Huh?"

I don't really blame myself for being surprised. You don't just expect anyone to clap after you're done singing (unless if you're performing on stage, that is) and say that your singing sounds like someone else's.

Although, it would be pretty awesome if someone tells me that my vocal cords sound like a famous singer.

He chuckles at my terrible response; hands in his pockets, he strolls toward my desk casually and leans down to match our heights. Once again, I am reminded of my short height even if I'm sitting in a chair, while he's standing. "Have you always had black hair," he glances briefly at my paper where I have written my name before finishing his sentence, "Natalie Ryals?"

Is he always so random?

"Huh? Y-- yeah."

"So tell me sugar cane," he begins again, slower this time, using the same annoying nickname he gave me earlier in the hallway, "do you like singing?" Pausing, his green eyes flickers at mine for a second before he reaches up and touches my hair, and I immediately stiffen.

What the waffles does he think he is doing?! Nobody is allowed to touch my hair, including Seth!

He starts to stroke my hair, but I instantly yank his hand away from my hair. Without thinking, I blurt out, "Dude! I'm not your dog!" He just stands there for a while, flabbergasted, and smirks at me before he starts patting my head. Now he's definitely treating me like a dog. Furious, I get up from my desk and push him back. His eyes widen in disbelief and annoyance, whist I simply cross my arms.

"You don't treat a girl like she's an animal, you stupid jerk! News flash, Chase Parker! It's time for play boys like you to learn how to treat us girls with respect." I stop myself to catch a breath before adding one more sentence. "Oh, and you may want to know this. There is this thing called a personal bubble, so you may want to keep your hands to yourself."

How long does it take for Mrs. Standsberry to print out papers?

One hour?!

Apparently so.

He leans back and glares at me, crossing his arms over his chest, unsatisfied, "With this kind of attitide, I bet you've never had a boyfriend before."

I frown, "What's up with your randomness? And yes, I do have a boyfriend. We've been dating for three months." Okay, the last part is a lie, but who cares? As long as this boy leaves me alone, I'm completely fine with that.

"Sure you do, as if someone like you had been kissed before." He backs away from me and sits down on the desk beside mine. "Anyways, I already know who I'm going to wrap my finger around by the end of today."

Bewildered, I sit back down on my own desk and stare disapprovingly at him. "Who said that dating meant you had to kiss someone? And who would be the next idiot to do that huh?"

Leaning back to his seat, he answers back with one eye open and the other closed, "Rebecca Sanders, at least she's better looking than you."

Okay, Natalie. Let's count to ten before you start chopping this boy's head off.

One....two....three....

Someone.

Anyone.