Rowan Hale's Story

It was early. I could tell by the light pinky glow of the sun peaking through my bedroom window. I sighed, burying my head further into my pillow, gripping its corners with both hands as I pushed my hips upwards. The stretch felt good, my muscles loosening appreciatively after a long nights sleep.

My phone hummed, alerting me to the fact that it was time to get up. 6:00am. Ugh. I hated school days. And it was...Monday? I had work too. Another groan reverberated in my throat. Monday's were not a good day. And it didn't help that I'd had another dream about her again last night. All perfect face and eyes and body. Fuck it. I raised my head and licked my lips, eyes narrowed against the glare. Whatever. It's not as if dreams really mattered anyway. No matter how many times I was bombarded with all that psychic crap, I knew they didn't mean anything. They were just your subconscious' way of torturing you at your most vulnerable. With a scowl I kicked off my covers and rolled begrudgingly out of bed, reaching for my phone and making my way to the shower. I needed to get the coffee shop before school started, and then I could back track through the park. Anything to get out of the obligatory awkward breakfast with my dad. Thankfully, he wouldn't be up for another hour.

The water was hot on my skin. It felt good. Really good. I lifted my head, letting the droplets beat against my face. I let my mind go blank. Fortunately, the good five minutes or so that I stood there, The Vaccines blasting against the tiles, all thoughts of last night were washed away with the scent of lotus flower and orange blossom. I exhaled happily, the corners of my mouth tilted upwards as I switched off the water and wound a towel around my chest, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror and grinning.

It didn't take long for me to dry myself and slip into my outfit for the day (my trusty pair of distressed denim shorts, Rolling Stones tee and fedora hat). I pulled at the ends of my hair, debating a braid, but decided against it. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grabbed my bag off my desk and made my way downstairs. The clock in the kitchen read 6:30 and I eyed the cupboard home to the pancake mix longingly for a moment, before shaking my head and grabbing a Granola bar from the cupboard by the fridge instead. 5 minutes later and I was out on the sidewalk on my way to the coffee shop, the early morning sun warming my skin, absent-mindedly kicking the ground with my faded Chuck Taylor's as I went.

I cleared my throat as I pushed open the door to Starbucks, spotting a somewhat familiar (but not friendly) face sitting in the corner. It was girl with dark hair. I often saw her when I came in here in the mornings before school, that goddamn sketch pad always on her lap or in her hands. I eyed her for a moment before walking up to the barista and giving my order - grande mocha with whipped cream and chocolate, nibbling on my bottom lip as I waited.

I opened my eyes and looked around. More people had accumulated into the show. I noticed a couple was looking at me. I had seen them before, but it wasn't anything that worried me. The girl was beautiful and I had meant to draw her but because of my forever waiting on him I didn't want to start a new drawing of someone from real life. She was pregnant and had a wonderful glowing look to her. Even the guy was pretty good looking.

I looked at my watch. '7:15 a.m. Would he ever show up? I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. By now it had gotten a bit weird tasting and all the ingredients were just sitting at the bottom. I shook it around a bit. That's when she walked in.

She was about a year younger than me. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. American girl, no doubt. She was beautiful. I was straight, but that girl, she made me feel weird. I just needed to know her name. My way of explaining the weird feelings was that I just had to draw her. She had one of those faces that if you drew her and messed up one thing it would throw off everything.

I noticed her looking at me. I put my head down. 'I should probably get out of here. I guess he isn't coming.' I put my sketch book in my bag and got up from my seat. I guess the park was the next best place to go.

I made sure my headphones were still in and put my head down. I knew how to get to the park without even looking. I walked down the street and entered the park. I couldn't hear any of the street performers but I knew they were there. I probably should have looked up because the next thing I knew I was bumping into a guy... A gorgeous guy.

I placed the money on the counter and took my coffee from the barista, flashing her a quick smile, before twisting my head to look back at the brunette in the corner. She was pretty, although not in the conventional way. All pale skin and dark hair. From where I was standing I figured she was short too. I'd seen her a lot before, and something was telling me I'd seen her around school too. But I'd never thought 'hey, this girl is hot' (probably cause she totally wasn't) but she was cute. And she'd been staring at me. Well, at least she had been, until I'd met her gaze and she'd looked away. I felt my heart swell a little, a smirk forming on my lips as I realised my ego had just inflated about tenfold. Perhaps today wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the chances of her looking at me in that way were like...minuscule, but it couldn't hurt to be a little optimistic. It felt nice to think girls looked at me in the same way so many boys did.

But when I turned around again, coffee in hand and lips pursed, she was gone. I figured as much. I took a tentative sip of the steaming beverage, eyes watering slightly as the hot liquid ran down my throat. Whatever. She wasn't even that attractive anyway. What the hell was I doing getting so worked up about it? I should be more bothered about the guy giving me the eye from across the other-side of the room. But, whatever. The coffee tasted good. I downed another two mouthfuls as I quickly exited through the door, making my way eastwards towards the park. The sun was rolling even higher, and it was surprisingly bright despite the early hour. Holding my coffee with one hand, I reached into my bag with the other, searching blindly through the assortment of school books and broken pencils until my fingers curled around the familiar shape of my sunglasses. I slipped them onto the bridge of my nose as I walked, my eyes immediately grateful for the reservation from the glare.

It was a fairly quick walk to the park from Starbucks. The familiar smell of grass and sycamore was soon attacking my senses, the vast patch of green bustling with joggers and students who happened to have the same idea as myself, stretching out in spots of yellows and white where the occasional cluster of flowers had decided to bloom. My phone buzzed. I reached for it with my free hand. It was Kira.

Calling in sick today. Sorry babe x

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Didn't we have a World History presentation to do today? Trust my 'best friend' to bail. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I took a right in the direction of the fountain, contemplating the remainder of my day. And to think it'd barely started. My History teacher and I didn't get on with each other at the best of times, and now I'd have to deal with his rage solo. Deciding to worry about that later, I instead relished in the overwhelming warmth of the sun on my legs. It was a violent contrast to the shadow of the trees, which I realised I needed to avoid walking into at all costs, unless I wanted to break out in a case of some serious goose-pimples.

But, either way, nothing beat the park at this hour. It wasn't hectic like on the weekend, or too 'couply' like in the evenings (where you couldn't walk five minutes without seeing two teenagers sucking face). It was just right, and she appreciated it's calming tranquility. It was like a protective balm, giving you a little moment of solace to distract you from the fact that your day was most likely gonna get a lot worse.

Rounding a small patch of trees, the sound of the fountain hit me like a wave of cold water. But, in a good sense. Street performers were a common occurrence around here, but there were only one or two this early in the morning. There was one really pretty girl. I saw her almost every time I came down here. Sometimes I would toss her a couple of coins, but mostly I'd just sit a few feet away on the edge of the fountain and drink my coffee. It was my thinking time. And I would be a big messy mush without it.

Except, when I finally sat down in my spot, I caught sight of Starbucks girl a little while away with some blonde senior guy I recognised from school. And he was totally hot. And so was his sister...I mean what. I blinked, cursing quietly under my breath. Although I didn't see hot senior blonde boy around as often as I used to. He was probably one of those people that thought cutting school was cool. Douche bag much? So, Starbucks girl was definitely not available. I inwardly cringed for thinking such a thing was possible and looked down at my drink, holding the paper cup tightly between my two palms.

Boy did I need a pick-me up. Oh well. School started soon. I just needed to finish my coffee and then I could leave. And maybe that World History presentation wouldn't be so bad.

Today too, there were many familiar faces at the park. Most of them were around my age, like the blond guy with skateboard, he would usually give me a few bucks. And the girl who always holds a sketchbook; I would see her sometimes drawing in the park too. I saw a couple of her drawings once when she dropped them and I helped her pick them up, it was around the time when I first came here. And I have to say she have got an amazing talent. And there was that girl too, who always sat a bit further from me with a cup of coffee in her hands and always in thoughts…Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I would wander how would it be like if I went to school with them. Would we be friends? I don’t think so. I was called a weirdo in my old school, so if I went here it would probably be the same.
I tuned the guitar and started playing the acoustic version of Guns N' Roses’ song Sweet Child O’ Mine. It was one of my favorite songs to perform in the mornings.



I didn’t like to sing too much, since I was a guitar player and not a singer, but I guess I don’t have that bad voice since nobody threw tomatoes at me, yet.
I played a few more songs then packed up; It was time for me go to work. I gave guitar lessons to the kids from the orphanage. The money I’ve earned that way was barely enough for me to pay the rent. In one of these days I’m gonna have to look for one more job.




When I arrived back to my apartment I took a quick shower. I got dressed into black skinny jeans, a white tee, put on my boots and grabbed a leather jacket along with the bag with my cameras. I was searching for my keys when my phone started ringing.
”Yo. ” I heard my friend voice.
”I’m on my way. ” I said while locking the door with one hand.
”You don’t have to hurry. The prof said that he’ll be late. ” I sat in my car and started the engine.
”Then I’m gonna stop by Starbucks for a coffee. Do you need anything? ” I could hear him talk to others.
” One Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino, two Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos and one black coffee. ” I sighed.
” I've got it. See you in a few minutes.”
I drove to the Starbuck and parked across the street. There wasn’t a big line in front of a long haired blond guy so I went to him to place my order.
” One Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino, two Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos and two black coffees. ”
As I waited for my order I wondered if the guy was working as a model too. He was very tall and had the model kind of a face.
He gave me the coffees and after paying him I got back to my car and drove to college.

Matthew POV

I stared down at the girl for a while, scrutinizing her reaction. Well, scrutinizing whatever reaction there was to scrutinize. At first, she was real still, not much movement, just kind of….shocked, I guess.

Her eyes traveled up to mine, and for a while we had a bit of staring contest, eye-to-eye. My bright green eyes (so similar to my sister’s) were one of those outstanding features that just stood out on my face. I’d gotten a good deal of compliments about them, if I do say so myself, and I carried them proudly. She seemed to spare a passing glance for my chest, though if she thought anything about it, I wouldn’t have known. In fact, besides the silence, she didn’t really seem unnerved, nor really confident, and I had to assume she was only glorifying her eyes in the presence that was me. She gave me a shy smile, and the corner of my lips upturned.

Then came the words. Her voice was shy and quiet, and I found myself straining to hear her name. I figured I should have anticipated this much. From whatever I remembered of the girl, she’d always been quiet. Not much of a talker, and not one to speak up for herself.

I was still in the process of comprehending her name when she said, "I could draw you, if you want."

It was a prompt, almost premeditated thought, that made her intentions seem illusive and almost out of place.

Nah, I’m just joking. Actually, the offer seemed pretty innocent to me. I’d already had prior knowledge on her artistic ability, and in contrast to her bulged out, almost regretful looking eyes (which implied that she may have been having a few misgivings about asking me), I thought it was a totally cool idea.

Taken aback by her own words, she offered up her name again, as if trying to erase her previous comments from my memory.

“Sam. I’m Sam.”

“Oh,” I replied coolly, “Okay. Cool. So, Sam, maybe we could hang out some time and you could do that drawing of me? Usually, I’m down by the beach, but it gets kind of cold there, so if you have another place in mind…?”

I threw her a dazzling smile; one that I could only hope would be persuasive enough to get me a much desired drawing. Maybe, something of me in the water, or around the dolphins that claimed their home by the beach where I lived.

“And, we could hang out together. Like really hang out, not just for the drawing,” I attached to my offer tactically, waiting for her response.

Max POV

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

There he was, in all his glorifying six feet of awkwardly sewn together limbs, and old, saggy, stained skin. The glazed look in his eyes was one of those ‘fear factor’ elements that gave this morbid man his tedious and strict reputation, and students were quick to duck out of his way before he grumbled morose lectures at them about “pants being too low” or “too short”.

He was my Pre-Cal Teacher. And he was heading this way.

I spared a glance at Matthew before realizing: He didn’t effing care!

“I’m going to hide!” I hissed in his ear, to which he briefly nodded concentrating on his conversation with the home schooled artsy girl. Not that he’d even remembered that she’d dropped out to be home schooled. That’s right lady killer. You just stand there and wait for a teacher to catch your sorry ass. Not that Matthew would care, but whatever.

Forgetting about my carefree, happy-go-lucky, unicorn brother, I did one of those “think fast” moments, where I practically ripped my sweater off my body, leaving me bare in my printed Victoria Secret bikini, and draped it over the top of my head like an overgrown hood.

I saw one cute guy throw me “the look”, but I didn’t have time to respond to his antics, and so I simply blew him over, acting as though I hadn’t seen him. There would be time to reprimand my brash, pass-up-the-hottie decision later. Right now, my only thoughts were to hide from old, mean, and saggy over there.

Scoping out the area, my eyes landed on the most unorthodox escape route/hiding place ever.

I would make a bee-line for the fountain.

Without a second thought, I put those gymnastic legs of mine to work, shooting out to the fountain, just in time for Mr. Doom-and-Gloom to past me straight.

The thing was, I would have totally celebrated my success at evading my teacher. Only problem was that I was heading straight on for the fountain at an almost uncontrollable speed.

Giving myself a good leap, I ended up splashing in the fountain (still standing upright, might I add; gymnastics is a useful thing), and spraying water all over the shirt of some blonde (ha ha, not that I wasn’t some blonde myself) girl with a cup of Starbucks coffee clutched tightly in her hands.

“Jeez,” I said, blinking slowly, and grazing my eyes over her soaking wet shirt, and now rip-able looking cup of coffee.

Think fast Max. What would someone, and by someone I mean myself, do in this situation. Oh, I know.

Peeling my sweater, which had remarkably remained unscathed by the water (once again, thank you gymnastics), off of the top of my head, I offered it up to her, trying to throw in the innocent looking Bambi type eyes that didn’t match with my scantily clad body, but usually worked with the guys. Maybe she’d have pity on me and for my sake, accept the Bambi eyes and forgive the sloppy mess that I’d caused her.

“Sorry, sorry,” I drawled on, thinking up a million excuses, “Take my sweater. You can keep it. It’s brand new, I think a Hollister? Mom bought it just yesterday? It smells pretty perfume-y. Yeah, I think it’s a Hollister,” I fumbled around with the sweater as I blabbered on, checking the label to confirm the brand. I was pretty sure my mother had only picked it up yesterday, so it hadn’t gotten much wear and tear. In fact, upon closer inspection, there was a hidden tag stuck somewhere in the sleeve, and I quickly tore it off, crumpling it, and doing a basketball shot to the nearest garbage can. Score one for Max. Score zero for park patrol.

“Anyway, you can have it. I don’t really need it.” Who was I kidding? I was going to be walking around almost buck naked through the park. I was probably going to end up in Juvi for illegal exposure of too much skin in a public non-beach place. Oh well. I looked at the girl, waiting for her answer, and firmly holding out the sweater to her.

Alexander

"That'll be four dollars and thirty cents. If you're willing to wait a minute or two, there will be a freshly baked batch of cookies fresh out of the oven quite soon. Of course, if you're in the rush, there are still some cookies from the last batch."

Surprise, surprise. I raised my eyebrows, glancing over what would have been the obvious, old, and probably now stiff, remainders of the previous batch, festering underneath the counter glass. If it had been Melissa (the female cashier working next my present cashier) she would have batted her eyelashes at me and tried to flirt it up a bit, but not give a damn about whether I wanted them fresh or straight from the display shelf.

I pursed my lips for a moment, wondering what Mish would’ve liked.

Fresh, definitely.

I dug out my wallet, grabbing a five dollar bill, and handing it over, “Don’t bother with change,” I muttered, stuffing the wallet back into my pocket.

Flashing a smile at the guy, and moving aside so he could tend to the next customer, I said, “I think I’ll have to take you up on those freshly baked cookies. Besides, I think I have time to wait…Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

I knew very well Melissa’s name. She’d totally flaunted it out for me the first time we’d met till she learned that I had a wife. But, if you’ll notice, I’ve been referring to this guy as the cashier for the most part. And maybe, I felt a teensy bit bad, that, weather the guy noticed it or not, I’d avoided him on my many Starbucks mornings.