Promise the stars

And it all went downhill

S.O.T.D: MY NUMBER BY THE FOALS 

HARPER OFF TO THE SIDE >

-

I watched, through my window, as he pulled his red 'Beats' headphones over his ears and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked both ways before crossing the street, a lazy scowl set on his face, and got into the familiar Black SUV.

Andrew Gold.

Or otherwise known as 'the senior hottie', even though he didn't so much as speak a couple of words to anyone besides his two best friends; Ethan Manning and Chandler Russo. It was, in many ways, a mystery as to why he spoke to them of all people. I mean, they were the funniest and most outgoing guys in our entire senior class, while Andrew tried, but failed, to fly under the radar.

The three amigos, they called themselves...Okay, Ethan called them that, while Andrew usually stood off to a corner scowling at his friend. They had had that little clique ever since the ninth grade when Andrew moved to Scottsdale. Now, we were nearing our final year in High School and I honestly couldn't put my finger on any time I had had an actual conversation with him that didn't result in him glaring at me.

Andrew and I just didn't 'mesh' well.

"Harper Dale, hurry up!" My mom pounded on my door. I reluctantly pulled myself from the window and the mystery that was Andrew Gold.

"Calm down" I huffed throwing on a pair of skinny jeans and a crop top, "I'm coming"

My mom stared me down as I opened the room door and huffed. She was wearing her high heels and a pencil skirt, with a fitted blazer on top. Her blonde straight hair was piled on top of her head in some form of a chignon and her brown eyes regarded me softly.

"This really isn't any way for a future Harvard grad to act" she mumbled. I rolled my eyes and flew down the stairs.

"How was the last cheer practice of the year?" Dad asked from the dining table.

"It was alright" I shrugged kissing him on the cheek, "I only have to deal with two more months of school anyways"

You know how people always go, "You look just like your mother" or "You're the spitting image of your father"? Well, in my seventeen years of life, I had never heard either statement. My dad was tall with an older version of a brown jewfro, brown eyes, and a tall lanky stature, coming in at around 6'3. Mom, on the other hand, had blonde hair, brown eyes, and almost hit the five foot barrier. Then there was me. I had long auburn hair, which I straightened on the regular, hazel eyes, a curvy build, and stood at an average height of 5'7.

"Pull your shirt down" Dad grumbled noticing my crop top.

"Dad, I'm almost eighteen! You can't tell me what to wear anymore" I laughed.

"Like hell I can" He replied throwing the blazer he had folded over his chair, at me.

"Mom, help me out here" I wailed as mom click clacked her way down the stairs.

"Henry, leave Harper alone" Mom warned.

"But Robin..."

"Henry" Mom shook her head and put an apple in front of him, "Hurry or you'll be late"

Dad was a plastic surgeon and mom an interior designer. They both worked vigorously in providing us with the life we lived and I was incredibly blessed for it.

"Harper, has Harvard mailed anything yet?" Mom wondered popping a poppy seed bagel into the toaster, "It's early admission season"

"Uhm, no" I gulped.