I had gotten ready the minute I sent the text, with a white sleeveless muscle tee, purple shorts and my cheerleading converse. My hair was up in a high ponytail, one that only cheerleaders or Ariana Grande could pull off. As a cheerleader, not caption, not vice-captain, I was pretty high on the social ladder, but that meant I had to meet some expectations.
Ris, or whatever his real name, was still not here. Maybe he didn't see my text. Maybe he's ignoring me. My best friend and my boyfriend? I'm really unlucky.
Just then, an unmistakeable black sports car drove up at top speed and parked right beside the park.
Tristan Evans got out, picking at the sleeves of his black tee. I admired his skinny jeans—black skinny jeans—as he fiddled with the tight pocket to get his phone out.
He looked straight my way and raised his eyebrow. His face remained blank as he walked towards me.
"Princess?" he asked when close enough.
I looked up at his eyes. Brown—just like ris! Hair. Brown—just like ris! Tristan Evans!
I jumped up and hugged him as I wrapped my legs around his torso. His arms immediately came up to my butt to hold me up and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Ess?"
"Ris?"
"Finally"
YOU ARE READING
Text Buddies #Wattys2016
Teen FictionI had always wanted a text buddy. And you just happened to be there. copyright @bootifullytayler 2016
