At 5:00 am, Zara's alarm blared loudly. She woke up yawning and was almost going to crash into the warm blanket again when she heard her mother, "Wake up, honey. You have an assignment to finish."
At that, she got up reluctantly. If there was something Zara hated, it was being called out by a teacher. Zara was a studious girl who always had her nose in a book. She had managed to get straight A's so far. She also knew her mother wouldn't be able to afford tuition fees and thus worked hard to receive a full scholarship. She also planned to take up a part-time job in the summer vacation to earn extra money.
Zara got up, put on her glasses, and took out her English assignment. The class had been asked to write an essay on "The seven sins" and come up with ways to tackle any one of them through peace. Zara had a penchant for literature and history. Thus she finished her essay in half an hour, shoved the books in her bag, and went downstairs.
Her mother was busy preparing breakfast. "Good morning, dear. Would you love pancakes or scrambled eggs?"
"Either is okay, mom, I need to rush. I am sure V hasn't completed her essay, and she would need to copy mine."
Zara showered and got ready. She wore her customary outfit, jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Her hair was a mess and would always need untangling, a gift she received from her mother, who had bushy hair too. She tied them in a ponytail, put on her glasses, and gobbled the breakfast.
Rose asked, "Are you sure you want to walk to school? I could drop you."
"No, it's fine, mom; V is going to pick me up."
At that, Zara heard the familiar noise of Veronica's car, an old Ford Anglia that was handed down to her after her elder brother had finished college. The car was battered, but Zara was grateful for it. Especially because she didn't have any. Zara didn't mind the walk, but it was cold, and it felt nice to not slip in the snow. However, she didn't admit it in front of her mother. Rose handed her the birthday present, a violet-colored sweatshirt with fleece pockets. "Wow, thanks, mom." Zara removed her old hoodie and wore the new sweatshirt.
"Hey, birthday girl," Veronica called out from the front porch, "Hurry up." Zara kissed her mom on the cheek before running towards Veronica. They both sat in the car and headed for school. On the way, Veronica asked, "So, what are your plans for today?"
"Umm…the usual. Mom is going to barbecue, then we will have ice-cream. You are invited too," said Zara as she adjusted her glasses that had a habit of sliding down her nose.
"What?" Veronica smacked her best friend, who was running her eyes through the assignment she had finished earlier today. "Ice-cream? What are you, 5?"
Veronica then dramatically huffed and puffed before sternly reminding Zara, "Gosh, you are sixteen, grow up. There's much more to life than assignments and ice-cream."
Zara asked sarcastically, "And, what is that?"
Before Veronica could answer, a black sedan rushed from the right, sending snow and murk on Zara, who had left the window open for some fresh air. She and her birthday present had been just showered with filth. "Noooo… That idiot spoiled my birthday present!" exclaimed Zara.
Veronica slyly remarked, "He could be your birthday present."
"What?"
"I mean, this could be the sign of the universe. I haven't seen the car around, and he pops up right on your birthday. Bet the driver must be hot."
"How are you sure that's a he?"
"I just know, can feel it in my bones."
"Shut up, V, and hurry. Mrs. Norris wouldn't want us to show up late to class."
They reached the parking lot and were heading to their usual parking spot. They found the same black sedan parked there. Upon closer inspection, they realized it was a PORSCHE.
Veronica demanded, "Which idiot has the nerves to park on my spot?" momentarily forgetting her earlier fascination with the car driver. Veronica was bossy and spoke at the top of her voice. She hadn't learned the art of whispering yet. Nobody messed with her as she would argue on almost anything. That was also the reason nobody would pick up a fight with Zara or be her friend.
"This idiot" came a smooth voice. The owner of the voice was standing a foot away, and both the girls had to crane their heads out of the window to get a better look. Veronica's eyes traveled up from his feet to his eyes, taking in the expensive shoes, branded clothes that shrouded a chiseled body, and the Rayban that was twirling in his fingers.
Veronica stared at him, open-mouthed. He was hot. Smoking hot! He was the very definition of hot. He was well over six feet, and his clothes did an abysmal job of hiding his magnificent body. He was smiling, and his hair was dark black in contrast to his skin. However, his most prominent feature for Zara was his eyes. They were the color of the ocean; deep blue, stormy, and enticing. For the first time since morning, Zara couldn't disagree with her best friend, who was going weak in her knees. Veronica looked at Zara as if to say 'Told you' before stepping out of her car.
Veronica extended her hand and blabbered, "Hi, I am Veronica. But you can call me V; all my friends call me V, so you can call me too."
The boy shook her hand. "Hi, I am Ryan. But you can call me Ray, all my friends call me Ray, so you can call me too! And, I am sorry for my speed driving today. Hope we can be friends."
Veronica blushed and giggled. She motioned for Zara to follow her lead. Only Zara didn't. She stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do. Sensing her hesitation, Ryan extended his hand, "Hi, I am Ryan, but you can call me Ray."
Zara gave a forced smile, still busy removing the snow and murk from her clothes and hair. She replied curtly, "The name's Zara." She didn't shake his hand but adjusted the glasses on her nose.
She's still the same, thought Ryan. He chuckled, "Oh, so I guess your friends call you Z."
"Listen, mister, you spoiled my birthday present and my birthday morning. Don't you dare spoil the rest of the day for me."
Ryan looked at her mischievously. "Oh, so now Z wants me to plan her not-so surprise birthday party."
Zara wasn't sure if she wanted to thank him for thinking of her birthday party or smack him for his overconfidence. She settled on being confused, "What?"
Ryan was getting on her nerves. She had seen movies where boys were featured as the rich spoiled brats, and she decided that Ryan could easily act in such roles.
Ryan asked, "Why else would you slyly inform a boy you had just met of your birthday today?" and winked. Oh boy, he was up to something!