"That's great," she smiles widely, making a few guys next to us turn to look at her. Alex is that very pretty girl you always wanted to be. She is tall with boobs and hips that are perfect no matter what she eats. I look at a McDonald’s meal, and my ass gets bigger. I’ve been told I'm pretty, but I like my food too much. So I have curves, unlike my skinny-ass best friend. My best qualities are my shiny, brown hair and blue eyes, which I have to admit, suit my golden complexion. We don't say any more and get on with our work. At the end of class, I hand in my permission forms for the work experience, before finding Alex with her boyfriend, Drake, outside class.
"Hey, do you still need a lift?" I ask when I get close to them.
"Nope, thanks, honey. I'm going to Drake’s, but I will see you tomorrow to get ready for the party." She winks, leaning against Drake. Drake is a good-looking guy, but is kind of strange-looking, and I can’t put my finger on why. Honestly, he looks like a typical, scary-ass man all the time. I don’t think he has a non-serious expression. He has dark, nearly black eyes and black hair that’s cut in a buzz cut, but he makes it work. It’s the eyes that give him the strangeness, they are too dark, darker than I have ever seen anyone’s. I always thought that he must spend a lot of time in a gym or something because he is all muscles, wearing expensive clothes. Alex has told me he is well off, but I knew that anyway from the car he drives and the designer clothes he wears. It's not just the looks and money, it's more how much older he acts, when he must be around twenty, like us. Alex doesn't answer many questions about him, but they have dated a while, so I'm guessing she really likes him.
"My friend is looking forward to your date," Drake says coldly in a slight Russian accent. Alex says he is not actually from there, but his parents were, apparently.
"Me, too," I lie and frown at Alex's chuckle.
"I love you, Win, never change," she says to me, as she gives me a hug before we wave goodbye. Drake doesn't say anything else but that's normal.
I click my old, red Rover open before sliding in. My mum bought it for me as a going away present, and I love the old car, though maybe not the unusual stain on the driver seat I can’t seem to get rid of; I think it’s red pen. Well, I’m hoping it is anyway. We never had a lot of money growing up as it was just me and mum. As I drive home, I try to think about ways to get out of this date, but eventually come to the conclusion that it couldn't go that badly. Right?
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