Well, tonight was the night. The night of the dance. And though her parents couldn't be less supportive of her social life, they held true to their promise, however grudgingly, to let her go. She had to wear one of her old dresses, a simple black sheath that reached her knees. Sure, it wasn't the most beautiful or glamorous gown, but she didn't care. She was just happy to go. She had pulled her hair up in a high, bouncy ponytail, her bangs swept to one side, held by a small, gleaming silver star clip.
At the moment, she was sitting on the cool, hard concrete of her front steps, a knot of anxious anticipation tightening in her stomach, waiting for Chan to show up. She’d tried texting and calling him multiple times, but he never picked up. He was already forty minutes late. She had literally begged her parents, swallowed her pride, and signed away a future night just to attend this event, and he was late. With that thought, she let out a heavy, deflated sigh.
Unbeknownst to Emma, her parents were perched in the living room, strategically positioned at the window, a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled judgment on their faces, waiting with an almost palpable anticipation to catch a glimpse of the boy she was going out with.
Blake was driving down her residential street, heading towards the school dance. Though he didn't want to go tonight—had, in fact, been pretty much forced into it—he'd made sure his appearance reflected his defiance. He hadn't dressed up like his parents wanted. Instead, he wore a soft black V-neck t-shirt with his trusty black leather jacket thrown over the top. Several silver chains of different lengths glinted around his neck, catching the streetlights. His dark hair was artfully messy, and a collection of silver rings adorned his long fingers, his nails painted a stark, jet black.
He was just about to pass her house when something caught his eye. A small figure, slumped on the front step, looking utterly forlorn. It was Emma. Her head was rested in her hands, her shoulders slumped. She was in a simple black dress, nothing fancy, but it fit her well, making her look, somehow, both vulnerable and pretty.
Without thinking, he parked his black Mustang abruptly at the curb outside her house. The sudden halt made her lift her head, her eyes wide with surprise. A soft smile touched her lips, quickly followed by a flush of slight embarrassment as she clearly recognized his car.
He rolled down his window, leaning over. "What are you all dressed up for, Pear?" he called out, his voice a little gruff, but less mocking than usual.
She shrugged her slender shoulders, giving him a small, sad smile. "I'm going to the dance, I guess. My date's a little late," she whispered, looking down at her lap, the picture of dejection.
He waved her to come closer. Once she was beside the car, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "How late?"
She pouted, picking nervously at her sleeve, looking everywhere but his eyes. "Like fifty minutes, maybe..."
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Fifty minutes? Who's the dick that would be that late picking up their date? Especially a girl like Emma. A flash of genuine annoyance flared through him. He tilted his head to the side, looking her over, making her instinctively shift, a nervous flutter in her stomach.
"Get in," he whispered, facing forward again, his voice holding an unexpected note of command.
She looked at him, confused. "I can't. What if he comes?" Her eyes darted down the dark, empty street. Not a car in sight. He looked up at her, pushing a stray strand of dark hair back from his eyes. "Well, then he'll learn not to leave a pretty girl waiting." A tiny, surprised blush crept up her neck, making him chuckle softly.
"Just get in, Emma. I'm on my way to the dance anyway." He faced back forward, giving her space to decide. Finally, she seemed to give in, walking around the car and climbing into the passenger seat.
She let out a soft sigh as they zoomed down the street. She glanced over at him, her gaze traveling over his outfit. "So you're going to the dance in that?" she asked, eyeing the silver chains decorating his neck, a hint of playful disbelief in her tone.
He laughed, a low rumble in his chest, amused by her tone of voice. "What's wrong with my outfit, Emma? Do I look bad or something?" he joked, glancing over at her. Her eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, thinking she'd offended him in some way. "No! Nothing wrong with it... you look good! I mean, umm, I like your outfit. It's very chill and casual... Um, are you not coming with anyone?"
He shook his head, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. "Nah, no girl can seem to meet my extremely high standards." she raised an eyebrow, a genuine smile replacing her earlier anxiety. "Standards? Such as?"
He shrugged, playing with one of his silver rings. "Not being a brainless, blood-sucking leech... Apparently, that type of woman is hard to find nowadays." He rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically, making her laugh loud and clear, a sound that was surprisingly pleasant.
She lightly pushed his arm, the unexpected contact making him grin.
"I'm sure she's out there, maybe," she said, still smiling. He shrugged, biting his pink lip for a moment. "So, who's this dude that ditched you?" he asked, genuinely curious who this asshole was.
She sighed, looking down at her lap. "He didn't ditch me, but if you must know, it's Chan Lee."
Blake rolled his eyes, sucking on his teeth. Of course. Chan. Blake had seen the way Chan operated, charming and popular, always getting what he wanted. Emma was so sweet and nice; he could easily abuse her kindness. "Why would you wanna go with that dick? He's... a dick," Blake stated, his voice flat with disapproval. He shrugged, shaking his head as they pulled up outside the school. Emma chose not to reply to his comment, her silence speaking volumes.
Blake parked along the other cars, seeing streams of people walking inside in suits and gowns, the muffled thump of music already blasting out from the school's open doors. He suddenly remembered the conversation he'd overheard just a few days ago between the popular group of kids, the one about a prank targeting some girl. A cold dread settled in his gut. They could have been talking about Emma that day.
Emma reached for the door handle. He quickly grabbed her other hand without thinking, his fingers closing around hers. "Are you sure you wanna go in there tonight? The guy stood you up, Emma. I'm just saying, I don't have a good feeling about this," he said quickly, his thumb instinctively stroking the back of her hand. She stiffened, realizing he was holding her hand, and he quickly let go, pulling his hand back as if burned. A part of him didn't want to tell her about their prank.
He didn't want to hurt her anymore. Maybe he could just talk her out of going in "Blake, I'm going to this dance." Or maybe not. She let out a determined breath and opened the car door. "Listen, Blake, I never get opportunities to do things like this. I just wanna have fun tonight... I'll see you in there." She gave him a soft, resolute smile while climbing out of the car, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
He watched her walk towards the brightly lit school entrance, a small, fragile figure swallowed by the stream of students. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the headrest. Damn it. "It's going to be an interesting night," he whispered to the empty passenger seat, a mix of concern and grudging obligation warring within him, before opening his own door and making his way towards the school.
(Mia note- oh no I feel like drama is about to happen~)
YOU ARE READING
It Started With Hello
Romance***** Emma Pear knew she wasn't the most popular girl in high school. Her nose was usually buried in a textbook, and her grades were as spotless as her reputation for always following the rules. "Nerd" was a label she'd long since embraced. Her pare...
