Falling in Love

Chapter 4

Christine's POV:

"No way, you're babysitting his siblings? You're kidding right?" Paris Greene, my best friend since, I can't even remember, screeched over the phone. Earphones for privacy? Big mistake, with Paris around, there was never peace and quiet. Everyone thinks that my best friend would be a nerd, but Paris was different, she was a mixture of a jock and a CAP. She was never rejected at either tables. But she would never lay a finger on a book, was never born a nerd. She had a curvy body, milky blond hair, fair skin and a fresh coat of lipstick to top it all off. Next to her, I seemed like a complete mess. Keep it together, I thought. The last thing I wanted was a Paris blabbering all about Sebastian. "What about some shopping?" I added hesitation to my voice. Paris lit up and hung up on me, saying that she'll pick me up in 30 minutes. I coated my lips with a layer of auburn, adding a little blush and picked out an I ♡ USA top and a pair of denim jeans, letting my wavy hair down. I heard 3 honks of a car and rushed down. Paris had her usual ride. It might have been cute in the 1980s, but this was quite a wreck. The paint off the hood of the car was faint, cracked leather seats and a not functioning air conditioner. Yep, every girl's dream ride. It had a bizzare honk that sounded like a cross between a dying duck and a suffocating seal, so we named the car The Honk. Paris had a pair of sunglasses and an Eiffel Tower cardigan on, completing the look with sky blue cotton shorts, her blond hair slightly wavy and had that edge of perfection to it, tied into a ponytail . "Climb on, we've got shopping to do!" she annouced, one hand on the stirring wheel and the other feeling for the makeshift fan, finding the button. I climbed into The Honk and dumped my bag onto the backseat and fanned myself, because the humidity in the vehicle could start frying eggs at this point. "Where to?" I mumbled. Paris yawned and said lazily, "The usual." She started the car, and she a frown flickered on her face. Clearing her throat she said, "So were they cute?" A short pause, she added, "like him?" I sighed and made a digusted face. "Yeah, but he isn't cute." "Whatever you say, Chris." Just a fraction of a second later, dark clouds started filling the clear, the sun was soon just a fade of grey. "Oh shit." she cursed and hesitated, before turning and grabbed her bag from the bagseat. "Umbrella, somewhere in there." She tossed it at me, squinting to check if the road was clear. Big fat drops formed all over the windscreen. I searched the bag, finding a baby blue umbrella. Soon, she pulled into an empty spot, and kicked on her emergency rain boots. Examining my flip flops, she shrugged. "Sorry girl, but I only got one pair, plus I just got these nails polished." I bit my lip and kicked the door open, ignoring her squeak of protest. Grabbing my own umbrella, we huddled together and checked for the shop. A familiar sign appeared before us, La Vogue. Yeah, thats french for fashion. Not really the most creative name, but I can't say the same for the clothes. A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder drove us into the doors. Turns out the umbrellas weren't really helpful, because we were drenched from bottom to top. "Ladies," The salesgirl, she was nothing you would ever expect to work in a French shop. She was basically the desciption of punk. Funky purple hair, dark eyes, a skull top and tattooed all over, she was the full package. "Anything I can get you?" her grey stony eyes filled of boredom. "We'll search ourselves." Paris scoffed. We went up the stairs and started looking through racks of the latest trends of France. "You didn't snog him didn't you?" I nearly choked on my spit, grabbing a cute long sleeve top and a fluffy V-neck loose Mohair knit sweater off the 10% discount rack. "You're kidding," I said rather warily. "You two were alone at home." she said out of my annoyance. "I was babysitting, Paris. For starters, there are the kids, and secondly, I don't-" she interupted me by overpowering my voice. "Don't tell me you don't like him. Tell me he's not hot and I'll do your homework for a month." I eyed her with amazement, Paris wasn't the sort who would her own homework, much less mine, for a whole month. Sighing deeply, she mumbled, "I take that back." That's my girl. "I'll buy both of those cute tops you've got, but my wallet says no. I'll get the sleeve." "Are you sure about that, Paris? It looks a little fat on you, don't you think, Christine?" Angelina.

A/N: J rewrote the chapter, I REALLY COULDN'T HELP IT, sorry D! Anyway hopefully whoever reads our story still enjoys it, we appreciate little shoutouts here and there. Remember to follow, vote, and even a leaving a nice comment would make our day!

*edited*