AMBER EYES (rewrite)

23 | lost & found

Greetings Miss Harley Kingsley,

It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been nominated by the Redville Skate Team based on the stats provided by your middle school. Please contact the skate coach (marcotrent@redville.in) or team captain (alyafarha@redville.in) latest by next friday.

Regards,

Redville Sports Department.

"Hey," Mason's soft voice reaches my ears. I look up from my phone as he strolls inside, sitting right next to me. "What are you up to?"

I show him the screen of my phone. His eyes go over the words for a couple seconds before his expression twists into a genuinely surprised and amused one. His eyes flick to mine and lips curl up in a small kind smile.

"Whoa, Harley, skate team? That's so fucking cool. I didn't know you skated. And I definitely didn't know you were good enough to be in the team." He's trying to hype me up but I'm too distracted by that. I don't think joining a sports team in the midst of all this is going to be okay for me in general. "You're good at everything. The next thing you know, you're excelling in all the programs this academy offers."

Well, that would be quite a challenge. Kind of an offer I would not have been able to refuse once upon a time but with not so much regret, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse.

"Sorry to dissappoint," I laugh, "but I can't sing for fuck's sake. I'd sound like an exhausted car engine if I even tried to."

"You could always play an instrument," he points out.

"Fair enough but that's too much work." I hear footsteps right outside the room. It isn't the person I expected to be so I let out a sigh. "Requires a lot of patience."

He hums, following my gaze. "You waiting for Iris? It's not eight yet. Plus, she's never been on time for anything anyways?"

I nod. "Yeah, true. She hasn't. I called Reece, by the way."

His face falls for a moment before he regains his composure. He shifts a little, his elbow brushing against my shoulder in the process. "Why would you call him?"

I shrug.

"Last time I checked, he wasn't a dance student."

"He isn't."

"I know." He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "How close are you with him?"

"I don't know. I'm not," I tell him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm asking how much do you know about him?"

I tilt my head, sparing him a glance. He's looking at me too, trying his best to maintain the playful look that is always there in his eyes.

I exhale. "Not much."

He mutters something under his breath before reaching for his pockets and taking out his phone. He gets up and stretches himself before beginning to walk around. "If," he says, "you are any smart, then you should stay away from him."

"Stay away from-"

"Stay away from who?" a feminine voice fills the room and I have to do everything in my power to not do anything reckless like breaking her face. Thinking about broken faces, my hands instinctively reach for my cheek, touching them lightly for a moment before I get up, brushing and straightening my clothes. I look at Iris and she looks at me - one of those dramatic moments where she doesn't know what to say and I don't know where to begin.

"Your friend," I say, "gave me a swollen face because I refused to dance with you. What is it with you and your friends? How do you get people to like you in the first place? It would be better if you do whatever you do to make people like you on me so that maybe I'm not annoyed to do that anymore."