8 years ago.
"Uptown girl. She's been living in her uptown world. I bet shes never had a backstreet guy. I bet her mothers never told her why..."
I set this as my alarm song in the hope that it would cheer me up in the morning but really its just been a massive slap in the face. A daily reminder that handsome men like Westlife would never fall for me. Why do I start every morning this way? Crawl out of bed at 8, moan at my choice of alarm song, cry at my reflection in the mirror and then stuff my face with chocolate spread on toast. It just reeks depressed, single 20 year old that belongs in the generation before hers. I'm sick of it.
Today, I'm going to make a change. Its sunny outside and I have a pair of jeans and baggy long-sleeved t-shirt out because I watched weather forecast and planned for the impending weather in the afternoon. I swear I am 20 going on 45. I hang my jeans and top back up and pull out my plain white cotton dress and a denim jacket. Much better.
Today is the start of a new me.
I burst into the classroom - 2 minutes late - "Damn" I think to myself, that's the third time this week. I just get a look from Mr. Barnard so I've gotten away with it. I look around the class to see if there are any glaring eyes me examining my some what radical change in style. As my head turns to look behind me I stop. My eyes lock with a pair of sparkling green eyes - belonging to someone that must be new. That's weird, we're almost a year into Uni and someone is just starting the course. I suddenly realise I've been staring at him whilst all these thoughts have been rushing through my head. I spin back round to face the front but not before I catch a glimpse of a cheeky grin emerging on his lips. Wow.
You know that warm feeling you get in your stomach when you see your celebrity crush wink or blow a kiss to the crowd? That's the feeling I have right now, deep in the pit of my stomach. It must reflect in my face as Mr. Barnard is looking at me. I put my hand to my cheek; I can feel it burning up. Crap. Please don't say anything, of course he's going to say something. He's one of those teachers that likes to embarrass you. I can see his mind working as he flicks through all the comments or witty remarks he could use here; meanwhile I can feel my face burning up till its beaming like a traffic light.
"I see you've met Mr. Hemson," Mr. Barnard's booming voice fills the room, "Quite a looker isn't he, Jenna," I keep my face down but that doesn't stop me from hearing the childish giggle ripple around the room. "You see, Jenna, if you'd made it to the start of my lesson you'd have heard my introduction for Danny, wouldn't you?"
Its like he planned it. Slowly, I lift my head to see pairs of eyes from every direction staring at me; waiting for a response. I just nod and hope for this to be over soon - but of course it isn't.
"Shall I go over it again for you?" he asks leaning over my desk. "Danny, has been transferred to my class from English Language as he requested that the Literature course would be a better fit for his taste. Isn't that right, Danny?"
"Yes, sir," he replied. The irish twang in his voice made my heart skip a beat. I sat upright with out even realising what I was doing. I'm going to pay for this one. Thankfully, the bells rings just in time to save me from any more torture. I gather my things as quickly as possible and make a dash for the door. I start to make my way down the corridor when a firm hand grasps my wrist. I turn to see those sparkling green eyes staring deep into mine.
Its Danny.
