▪︎𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦,
𝗜'𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂.
in which an ordinary girl soon finds out that she's not as ordinary as she once thought, all while trying to hide her f...
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♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪♡ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 twenty-four
I'll be needin' stitches
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
MATH WAS NEVER DALLIE'S STRONG SUIT.
While she was smart in lots of other subjects, physical education especially, she always seemed to flunk math. Especially with the class-clowns in the same room and the laughable antics of their disastrous teacher. She simply couldn't focus.
The girl seemed even more distracted since lacrosse tryouts were only an hour away. The Latina was practically on the edge of her seat and her brown eyes grew wide at the clock, each tick of the handle echoing in her pierced ears. She wanted Louis to do well, so she spent the remainder of the class manifesting his pass. Dallas needed time away from Stiles Stilinski and to project her happiness into something else - or someone else - because the possibility of him being with someone else absolutely broke her heart.
And when she ran into him at the party, she realised how easy it was for him to do just that. She realised how easy it was for him to find someone else. It didn't stop it from hurting, though.
The ringing of the school bell ripped her from her thoughts. She packed up her notebooks and pastel highlighters before jumping from her seat. Her hair flew in the wind as she examined the hallways for her friends, but she managed to connect eyes with the person she wanted to see least.
Stiles Stilinski widened his eyes at her and pushed through the crowds as he made his way towards her. "Dallas!" He called out, but the brunette turned away from him and rushed the other way while pretending she didn't hear his obvious yells.
She had almost made it to the doors before her arm was gently tugged. "Hey, slow down." The familiar boy frowned at her, holding his backpack strap against his plaid shoulder with his thumb as he stared down at her. The Garcia avoided his look and breathed heavily.
"What do you want, Stilinski?" Her face held a disappointed, almost regretful look as he stumbled over his sentences.
"I wanted to talk to you." He furrowed his eyebrows at her sudden bitterness.
He had managed to bruise her bubblegum heart and its sugary sweetness became replaced with sour lemonade. If she had to hurt, so would he.
The Siren crossed her arms and responded. "I need to head to tryouts, so make it quick."
He dropped his hands to his sides. "You're heading to tryouts? Are you watching us play?"
