One Love . . .

Hacked Again

The smell of freasly brewed coffe wafted past me. Waitresses scuttled around, juggling trays and items while swerving around tables. Me and Drake sat in a cozy booth, our menus in our hands.

This was actually my idea. If we're going to be living together for three weeks, we might as well become friends. I was devoting an entire day to this. Well, most of an entire day. I had to go and do a vlog, of course, and I had a collab to film at night with Colleen, but other then that we're pretty much not leaving eachother's sight. I am DETERMINED to make a friend.

The waitress comes over. She looks exhausted, with big dark circles under her eyes and her hair pullled into a ponytail with little peices of hair sticking out. Plus, she's wearing a scrunchi.

"Do you know what you want?" She asked sleepily. It was tweleve thirty, and they already closed breakfast. So, I've resorted to find anything on the lunch menu that I can eat for breakfast at lunchtime. Even thought twelve thirty isn't really lunchtime.

"Yes," Drake said, putting down his menu, "I'd like the buffulo chicken, blue cheese dressing with a side salad and coleslaw. Coke with that, extra ice, please."

"And I'll have a garden salad, no dressing." I added, handing the waitress my menu.

As the waitress walked away, I glanced down at my outfit. I actually managed to look presentable, with my hair pulled up into a high ponytail and my lipstick looking completely perfect. I even managed to cover up a pimple. I'm wearing my skinny jeans that make my legs look long (and thin), and a #leh shirt with a black lfaux-leather jacket over it. I'm wearing my new gray combat boots too, which are totally squishing my feet right now.

"Extra Ice? Really fancy." I laugh, digging around in my purse. Drake smiles, and his perfectly straight white teeth show for a fraction of a second. He really is cute. There's no denying that.

After our perfect lunch, we head out to this little park, full of yelling children and food vendours. Couples walk around, hand in hand. Joggers dash by, sweaty. I never understood how they could keep earbuds in their ears WHILE RUNNING.

"Cotton Candy." I whisper, eyeing the sweet-smelling stand. Drake walks over, five dollars clutched in hand.

My phone buzzes.

INSTAGRAM /-/ACKED

My heart dropps into my stomach. They struck again.

A/N; HEY GUYS! THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE TWENTY READS! (COMPARED TO OTHERS? SAD. TO ME? PRETTY GOOD) SO, IMMA KEEP ON WRITING THIS IF YOU FOLLOW AND COMMENT VOTE AND BE HAPPY PEOPLEZ! THANKS!