Accidentally

1: accidentally agreeing

Sometimes I wish I could just jump through the wall into platform 9 3/4 and disappear somewhere—anywhere, that was not here.

But I am not a wizard and this is not the wonderful world of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, this was the real world and I was stuck to face my over eager best friend Laura Miles.

oh no.

I knew that look, and when I see that look I know she has an idea. And her ideas are never good, let me tell you. I mean after knowing someone practically your whole life, you basically know every small thing about them. Mine and Laura's friendship was quite like that, it gets quite annoying at times, but it's also comforting to know someone cares so much about you to pay that close attention.

I sheepishly try to hide myself behind my long blonde waves in terrible attempts to avoid confrontation from my fast approaching best friend. I knew it was no use, she'd already seen me, yet I try to squeeze into my locker anyways and hide from whatever crazy idea she was about to throw at me.

I look over my shoulder and see her brown hair bouncing about as she sprints towards me. Well whatever you call 'attempting to move fast whilst wearing four inch heels.' That was Laura Miles for you. Dressed to impress and was never second best. (Yes that rhymed intentionally, I've been describing her that way all my life, what did you expect?)

I grimace as she comes closer to me waving a piece of paper in her hand. I give her a quick once over and notice that she's still in her dancer uniform, probably meaning she just came from practice. I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear before grabbing my books, shutting my locker, and reluctantly, and very slowly, turing around to meet my overly eager best friend.

"Oh. My. God tal! You won't believe what just happened!!"

I look down at her outfit once again before giving her a sarcastic smile.

"Must have been something pretty incredible for you to run over to me, dressed in dancer gear and heels"

She looks down at her feet to see I'm in fact right. I mean, does she really have to look? I'm always right. Just kidding, I'm not that stuck up, but I am the smarter out of us two that's for sure. It doesn't seem to faze her because that creepily wide smile doesn't come off her face.

"Besides the point,"

She waves the piece of paper in front of my face so fast I almost get whip lash trying to focus on what it could be. I don't know how she expects me to read it when it's constantly moving and the words are freakishly tiny.

"Aren't you excited?!"

She yells, obviously she was excited. I look at her confused before grabbing her wrist to stop the shaking and removing the two pieces of paper from her hand before flipping them over and scanning my eyes over the front.

"Excited for what? What are these..."

Oh god. I read the name on the front of the tickets and am literally tempted to rip them to shreds then and there. I decide against it because I know I'd be the only thing getting ripped to shreds as soon as Laura would have witnessed what I did.

"I just scored two tickets to see Wesley Rivers! Are you not so totally excited!?"

She grabs my hands in hers and literally starts jumping up and down. Well as much 'jumping' you can do while wearing four inch heels. She stops, however, when she notices my deadpan expression.

"You've got to be kidding? Do you actually think I'm going to go to that douche's concert?"

I scoff at her handing her back the tickets. Her smile instantly fades away and she replaces it with her fake pouty face. Oh yeah, in case you are confused, Wesley Rivers was basically our whole towns idol. He's a worldwide celebrity and everyone basically worships the ground he walks on, and I'm literally not even exaggerating. Considering we live in his hometown, he's like big beans here. I mean he's literally loved by everyone. Well everyone but me that is. I mean don't get me wrong, the guy can sing. I just really didn't like the style of music he sang. I much preferred songs by labrinth or adele. And I definitely did not want to sit through torturous hours of whatever lovey girly pop songs he had to sing. Like I said— really not my thing.