Boundless

Chase

The next morning I woke up with a bad headache. I sat up in bed, brushing my hands through my unruly hair.

Last night seemed like a distant memory. It had been the most vivid dream I'd ever had—and the most disappointing to wake up from.

I glanced over at my alarm clock and read the time: 7:15 AM.

"Shit!" I hissed, rushing out of bed and to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced.

I would be lucky if Lys wasn't already here to pick me up for school.

I quickly brushed my teeth and put on a little make up before dashing out to grab some random clothes that I didn't have time to match. I heard honking from outside and quickly grabbed my backpack and rushed to Lys's car.

She smirked at me when I got inside.

"Nice outfit," she said, motioning to my clothes. I looked down at myself. I had put on a green shirt and bright red shorts. "You do know it's not Christmas anymore, right?" she asked, clearly amused.

I sighed. "I had a weird dream and it made me oversleep. I was a little disoriented when I woke up."

Lys snorted. "Oh, please, Mrs. Clause. Last night I had a dream that I got raped by Mr. Tumnus from Narnia. And look at what I'm wearing." She pointed to her short, fashionable white dress that complimented her dark skin.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare outfit somewhere here, would you?" I asked, though I knew my hope was in vain.

She laughed as she pulled into Hawthorne High School's parking lot.

"Nope, sorry. What was your weird dream about?" she asked as she parked.

I pursed my lips. I wanted to tell her, but the whole thing seemed like it was something to be kept private. "I don't really remember." Lys gave me a look. "I just know it was weird."

She sighed. "Whatever you say." She pulled a mirror out of the car's compartment and checked her makeup. "Do I look okay?" she asked me.

"Yeah, why?" Lys was usually concerned about her appearance, but never concerned enough to have to ask someone if she looked good- she usually already knew she did. And she wasn't wrong about that. Lys was beautiful with clear black skin and light hazel eyes. She was the type of beautiful that drew attention from any room, and her personality ensured that the attention stayed directed at her.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Tyler here," she said, glancing around the parking lot.

I groaned. Tyler was, to put it bluntly, awful. I frequently heard negative gossip about Tyler from other girls at the school. He was not a good person. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to humiliate people—especially women. I had told Lys again and again that the boy was an animal and she always responded with: "I like a good challenge."

"Don't groan at me. You know how I like a good challenge." I rolled my eyes but she looked determined as ever. "I'm going to conquer that pretty boy," she assured me. "I'll have him begging on his knees for me."

"Just don't get hurt," I said, opening my car door. In truth, I knew she wouldn't. Lys was the only person whose cunning I believes could compete with Tyler's.

She narrowed her eyes at me and looked like she was going to say something else, but spotted Tyler's hulking form from across the parking lot and left the car with a wink.

I laughed and pulled her keys out of the ignition before getting out of the car.

When I stepped out, I was greeted by a puff of cigarette smoke.

I coughed and tried to clear the hazey air with my hands.

I looked up at the culprit with a glare that was hard to keep in place once my eyes landed on him.

He was tall and slim. His dark hair hung slightly over his eyebrows and he wore a black, hooded jacket. He had a silver lip ring that added even more to his "bad boy" image. As if that wasn't enough, he was leaning back against his vehicle. Of course he had to have the stereotype of his stereotype, a sleek, black motorcycle.

He leaned back against it casually, arms crossed over his chest and a cigarette between two fingers. He wore dark sunglasses that I couldn't see past. There was something about him—besides the fact that he just stole seven minutes away from my life by making me inhale that distrusting smoke—that made me uneasy.

I cleared my throat and composed myself.

"You just blew smoke in my face," I informed him, trying my best to stay calm and collected. That was the best way to confront obstacles, with dignity and civility.

He stayed completely silent as he took another puff of his cigarette. I stayed quiet, refusing to speak until he answered me.

"Oops," he said, blowing more smoke into my face.

I stared at him, struck by his rudeness. What was his problem? What did I do to him? I quickly felt my calm resolve transition into frustration.

"Who do you think you are?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

"Chase," he said casually. "Chase Caulfield." He raised one eyebrow. "And you are?"

I hesitated, unsure of whether or not I should answer. "Ashlynn Gold."

He nodded. "That's a weird name," he declared simply.

I could feel the temperature of my body increase with my heart rate. "You know what?" I snapped. "I met you less than a minute ago and I already can't stand you." He sighed deeply as if I were annoying him. "Do you have something you want to say to me?" I asked, putting a hand on my hip.

He stepped towards me abruptly and I had to stand my ground to avoid stepping back. He lowered his head so that he hovered directly above me, his hot breath mixing with mine. I noted that he strangely didn't smell like cigarettes when he was this close, but instead like pine aftershave.

"Yeah," he said in a deep, husky voice. He cocked his head to the side, holding my gaze steadily. "You really should save some of that passion for the bedroom. Preferably mine." Before I could even register what he said, he walked away quickly. "By the way, Ashley," he called back to me. "Christmas is over."

"It's Ashlynn!" I yelled, but he didn't even respond.

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