Far Away.

I wobbled around stiffly a I made my way to my car across the parking lot. It was seriously hot outside. The air above the asphalt was distorted because the ground was so damn hot.

"Jesus Christ," I huffed, "maybe I should just quit cheer . . . I mean, I can't--I can't-" I wheezed out the last part, looking around, only to realize I was alone. Bailey was already at my car, waiting for me to unlock it and I had been talking to myself.

"Dammit! I've gotta stop doing that! People gon' think I'm freaky!" I THOUGHT to myself this time. "Ehhhhh, screw it. It's too late for that now."

Bailey chuckled (out of breath still from conditioning) at me mumbling and grumbling to myself.

"Don't be ridiculous, you know you that you'd never quit cheer Emmie!" Bailey said as we got into the car.

No, she couldn't hear what I was mumbling earlier, but this girl knew me like the knob on the back of her head, so she could tell by my facial expressions. I pouted; I hate it when she's right. I loved all-star cheer way to much to quit. The pain was worth it. NO, I'm not some bratty, stereotypical, popular, high school cheerleader, complaining about a scratch on her knee. This shit is REAL. Oh jeez, don't even get me started on this rant right now, Lordy. (Before you get all judgmental, look up all-star cheer on YouTube or something)

Anywho, as I sped down the highway, Bailey was rambling about some gorgeous Irish boy while fanning herself, while I had the radio playing as background noise. She suddenly stopped mid sentence and screeched.

" . . . And his blue eyes let you see into his soul--OH MY SWEET BABY JESUS!!"

I pulled over to the shoulder of the road and slammed on the breaks, causing us to both jerk forward and slam against our seat belts. Bailey was un-phased.

"WHAT?!?!" I yelped, thinking she was having a heart attack or something.

"I. LOVE. THIS. SONG!" She squealed, bouncing excitedly in her seat. She spun the volume knob, speedy quick, so that every beat of the music blasted through the car's speakers.

"AND- OW! YOU'RE GIVIN' ME A HEART ATTACK, GETTIN OVER YOU-U!" She wailed loudly whilst doing a dramatic dance move.

I banged my head on the steering wheel repeatedly. My best friend everybody.

"Bitches be cray..." I mumbled, starting up the engine again(nahh, Bailey and I aren't ghetto, but sometimes we just like to make fun of the way ghetto people talk). Just as I was about to put the car in drive, a nice-ass black range rover pulled up next to us.

"Damn." Bailey and I said in unison, just before the windows rolled down to reveal a blonde headed boy with deep blue eyes in the passenger seat, and another boy in the drivers seat with sunglasses and curly, dark hair. I rolled down my window too.

"Do you need any help at all with your car, ladies?" Blondie asked. But I could barely hear him at all with the music still blasting-embarrassingly loud-so I turned it down, only to find it was still hard to hear with a wide-eyed Bailey hyperventilating next to me.

"Bail's, jeeze, I know you like the song, but--" I was cut off by one of the (super cute) boys clearing their throats. Crap, I forgot they asked us a question.

"Oh-ermm . . . Sorry, what?" I stumbled on my words. "Dammit Emmaline, get your shit together, these boys are adorable." I scolded myself.

They chuckled at my awkwardness before repeating themselves.

"Are you having car troubles, miss?" Do you need a lift?" Blondie said--woah, he had some kinda weird accent. And it was the cutest thing ever.

"N-" I was cut off by the sound of my car spluttering to its death. I checked the needle to see the we had absolutely no gas in the tank.