MARSHMALLOWING OUR WAYS

CHAPTER 5: CASSIE

What the hell?
Was Elena Evans live in front of me?
Did she say that Wesley, cute and arrogant Wesley, is her brother?
Did she just ask the same Wesley, her brother, to give her fashion advice?
Is Wesley behind Elena Evans' awesome fashion sense?
And the most confusing part of it all...
Did I ask Wesley for his phone number and did he really give it to me?
YES!
YES.
Yes!
Yes.
All that happened. All of it.
I'm in my car replaying the conversation I had with Wesley where I asked for his number. Have I not embarrassed myself enough that I had to have gone there and ask him for his number while stammering like hell?
Ugh.
Oh, god.
Save your child 'cause she's definitely going insane here.
I guess the only good thing that came from this is that I got his number.
Now, now. Don't get me wrong. I'm not interested in him. Not at all. Nuh-uh.
The sole reason for which I asked his number is that, let's face it, he has a great sense of fashion. And he knows what a tank top is!
Since I'm 'rechanging' and all, I decided that I need to 'rechange' my appearance too...Right?
So.
Believe it or not, I had a great sense of fashion. Like, trends started with me back home. Here? Not so much. People don't even see me let alone my clothes.
Therefore, let's seek help from Wesley Evans.
I've researched about him enough to know that he is the quarterback of our highschool, though we met for the first time in 'Marshmallowing Our Ways'. He's friendly and goofy and cool. His grades are very much acceptable. And the most interesting gossip- He is a playboy. Guess I figured that much.
The thing is, he has a great sense of fashion and he may be of a lot help in my 'rechange'.
I just need to be on his good side and befriend him. That's easy. Or isn't. Maybe.

The whole ride home, I had an image of Wesley in the back of my mind. I just need to get him to like me. Not like like me. Just like me. Like as friends.
I can do that.

While showering, I realise I have a sore shoulder.
I sigh heavily.
I worked hard today. I did all the heavy-load work because interaction is not my thing.
I don't know why Mom set me up for this job. It was clear that I don't like talking and gossiping as much as I used to. I can't make simple sentences without it getting awkward. Now? I can only talk to my family, Mrs. Evans and Wesley normally. Though Wesley shouldn't be counted. We just fight and throw snarky comments at each other. We don't talk.
I love my job. I do. It has a great contrast in its aura and design.
But I guess this job will play a good part in my 'rechange'. Huh. I think I'll have to find Wesley the next day to teach me a thing or two. But first I have to get him to teach me without a second thought.
How?
I suppose I need to befriend him with my supposed 'charm' and 'aura'.
Ugh.
Again.
How?

I finish my hot shower and enter the room, dressed, with a pink towel wrapped around my head to see a glimpse of Ron's leg sneaking out the door into the living room.
Horror creeps over me.
He has not forgotton. He'll take revenge. Or has already taken. I don't know.
I look around my room trying to find a trace of something, anything but I get nothing except that my phone's screen is lit.
Oh, god.
He couldn't have done anything much because I'm not on social media. Well, not anymore but whatever. I don't have any contacts other than a few old friends, my parents, both much too aware of my brother's tricks and-
"Shit."
Wesley.
I remove the towel and jump on my bed trying to grip my phone, which happens to be slipping every time from my nervous, wet and shaking hands.
I check the browsers first. The history is clean and perfect just like it was. Nothing.
Then I check the gallery, as he may have sent an embarrassing photograph of me. But. Nothing.
I checked the call list, he may have prank called someone. Nothing
At, last.
I check my messages.
There's one message.
Sent from my phone.
To a guy.
To the only guy I had in my contacts (aside from my family of course).
To Wesley.
To Wesley Evans.
Shit.
My life sucks.
I shakingly open the chats and see what I, or should I say Ron, wrote.
Do you know me? I'm Cassie. The arrogant cake-eating monster.-C
And I'm officially dead.
Just as I was considering ways to kill myself, my phone buzzed.
A text message.
From Wesley.
Oh God, Was my marshmallow incident not enough for you?
Why did you have to have do this too?
Cassie? the coworker-Cassie?-W
Huh?
Ohhhh.
Yeah, we didn't exactly exchanged numbers since I didn't give him my number. Stupid, I know.
Curious, I replied.
How many Cassies do u know?-C
What can I say? I'm a curious human being.
Well, as a matter of fact, five. Tho only one to contact me now.-W
Holy shit.
How popular is he?
I myself only know two other Cassie and that's saying something considering its my name. But, five!
Gah! What a playboy!
I reply to him, referring his earlier message asking me if I'm Cassie the co-worker.
Hey.-C

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