Dear Diary...

•2

AN: Ignore the crappy "edit" I made. I just didn't know what to put hehe.

"Anna, there's someone at the door for you!" Mom yelled from downstairs. That's weird. I don't talk with any of our neighbors and nobody told me they were coming over.

As I walked out of my bedroom I made sure I looked presentable and walked downstairs to the door. After opening it, my questions were weirdly answered. My hot neighbor, that is a year older than me, was standing outside with a notebook and a pen in hand. He smiled at me since I hadn't said anything in about 3 minutes.

"Uh..Hi, what's up?" I said; my awkward self taking over.

"I have a project to do on somebody from the neighborhood and I thought it would be cool to do it with you. What do you say?" He looked everywhere as he spoke. Is he nervous? No way. A perfect guy can't be nervous. Wait, a project? What class would assign him to do this type of project?

"For what class is that project?" It sounds like an elementary type of project. Then again I've heard that when you're in grade twelve the teachers don't give you a hard time.

"It's for my literature class. We have to write a 6-12 page essay. Sounds a bit easy, doesn't it?" He laughed after saying exactly what I was thinking.

"Yeah, it does." I laugh thinking what a lucky bastard he is.

"I guess I can help, yeah. It's going to be like an interview, right?" This can't be hard. I'm sure he'll have 12 pages easy if I'm allowed to speak and speak. I tend to do that quite often when I'm asked the simplest questions. It annoys people a lot.

"Yeah, just like that. Do you have time now? Or is this a bad time?" It's not a bad time at all actually, you're going to help me procrastinate for an hour or two.

"I have time now. Where do you want to go? We can walk to a diner that is just a block away. Is that okay with you?" I'm craving the milkshakes they make there so bad.

"Yeah, I love that place. Let me get my wallet and I'll meet you in front of Dan's house." I mentally cursed in all of the languages I know how to. Who the hell is Dan? And which one is his house? See, this is what I get for being antisocial.