Look What The Cat Dragged In

Chapter Five

ONE OF MY WORST EDITS EVER LETS NOT TALK ABOUT IT...

IM AN INCOHERENT TEENAGER LET ME LIVE

{Nicole's P.O.V}

I looked around the "Hollywood Boulevard" to see if anything was out of place to fix, with hope of making myself feel of any importance. I scanned my options of entertainment, I could walk to the raging dancers who smell of medical marijuana, the band of misfits by the locker room, or one of the empty-
covered in last weeks lunch
-cafeteria chairs that were placed along the wall.

I took the only option that seemed good for me, was sitting on the crusty macaroni chairs, playing Bean Boy on my phone.

Once I got above the kitchen table in bean boy I decided that my sad attempt to stall myself had "shockingly" failed. I sighed and put my phone in my aggravatingly small purse, and scanned the room. Nothing to my interest was happening, my last resort was to go and third wheel with George and Clay, but I hated ruining Georges special night. So I cut my loses, fixed my dress and walked in the direction of a group of kids who I partially knew, and partially hated.

Once I knew I was in close enough in proximity to be noticed I smiled awkwardly and waved at the small amount of people who actually side glanced in my direction. I got no response but I realized why seconds after.

Because the God of our school was in the center of all attention.

There he was, Foster Ronson, I marveled at his presence, as every other girl, as soon as he was in my vision.

The strobe lights seemed to move in a way that was always in his favor, glowing him in different angles presenting different aspects of his beauty, making me want to melt into a pile of embarrassment and awe.

Foster was always in the dating limelight, not because he was a man whore, because he was the opposite. Girls have thrown themselves (literally) at Foster, but he doesn't seem to notice, or even care for that matter.
They're is a certain type of girl that Foster likes, he's had girlfriends but they were all high school supermodel, Olympians who he broke up with to be more focused in school.

He. Was. Perfect.

How does an unnoticed, inelegant, awkward girl with a odd cat obsession get noticed by him?

She dose not.

And she never-ever will.

"Oh, hi Nik."

Well shit.

I don't even liked being called Nik.

He could call me an swear word under the rainbow, spit in my hair-do, slap me, and  I'd still be giddy and maybe even wet myself.

I used what was left of my voice to squeak, "H-hi." He smiled and continued his conversation with the multiple girls (and the occasional guy) around him.

My face turned the shade of deep red of the girls dress next to me. Foster and I had three classes together but I had no idea he knew my name, our school wasn't huge but it wasn't small. I scooted behind the girls and quickly fixed my dress, hair and makeup, then quietly scooted back into my place.