Anyway, after lunch and the last two lessons of class, I slowly started walking home.
"Alice!"
I heard Matthew call my name in the distance. I had to walk faster. But after all the years, why would he suddenly decide to pester me again?
Since grade one, my friends and I made an oath to avoid Matthew Medici, (coming from six year olds) he was an icky poo, who picked his nose, smelt funny and wore overly large glasses. To top it all off, in grade six he acquired a new way of annoying people: boasting to everyone that he's the first guy to hit puberty because he has pimples. Two weeks later he also acquired braces. But that wasn't the worst part. At the grade seven graduation onto high school, he declared his love for me in front of everyone, leading me to total embarrassment. He hasn't talked to me since then, for he embarrassed himself greatly there too and also because Josephine told him to '(insert rude word here) off'. That was when I was 14, I'm almost 18 now.
I really didn't feel like talking to him. So I take a turn into the swimming centre in the school where there is a short cut to the gym, then outside is the road. As I started to race past the pool, the loop in my shoelace snags on one of the chair legs. My shoe detaches from my foot and when I tried to get up, my bare foot slips on the tiles of the edge of the pool, I manage to hit my head somewhere and I slide into the pool. The deep end.
...
I slightly open my eyes. I'm totally dreaming. There is a really cute guy with lovely tan skin and gorgeous light brown hair on top of me, with his eyes closed and deeply kissing me. It feels so strange though, the kiss is too deep. I'm about to scream but I can't because there is this enormous pressure in my lungs. I shove the cutie-pie-smoocher off of me and sit up again trying to scream… but instead I belched up a heap of the gross swimming pool water, and my breakfast and lunch.
"Nice one Renld," My supposed saviour says all out of breath from reviving me. However I dislike him from calling me by my last name. I hate my last name it's too weird and nobody calls me by my last name either. Except one person…
… I dart a look at the person who saved me. I stared at his muscular body; I stared at his pretty face. His eyes stared back at me. The last time I saw those endearing green eyes, they were surrounded by pimples and in pain for being told to go away rudely. The beautiful guy who saved me is Matthew Medici.