"Tell her a story

Tell her the honest truth”

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She first met him when he ran into her apartment on a Saturday night.

Her hair, still damp from her shower, sprayed water around her as she danced around her home. The water falling around her looked just like the rain she loved dancing in as a child. A relatively serious person, the girl was only able to express herself and really let go once in awhile, and it was usually at this time: Saturday, around eleven at night. She was glad to have her own apartment where no one could judge her (except for all the city people who could see a small silhouette moving wildly around her apartment).

Ring. Ring.

Sadly, the phone call snapped her out of her childish immaturity, much like a school bell to a student’s lunch break. I suppose parents are right when they say technology stifles our inherent joyful nature. She broke out in a smile when she saw the caller ID: “Hello, mom?” she said into her phone. (Parents also say family is important.) Wandering to the kitchen, she put her mom on speakerphone and decided to switch to adult things a twenty year old would normally do, such as wipe off the counters and other mundane chores (she would rather be dancing). She slicked her hair back into a ponytail like she had done many times before and soaked a dishrag before dragging it over the granite.

“Have you checked the mail yet?” her mom asked.

“Yeah, mom, of course I have,” she replied, hurriedly making her way to her mailbox outside her door while keeping a conversation with her mom. When she came back in, free of suspicion from her mother, she didn’t lock the door.

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A boy living on floor underneath hers was sprinting for his life to the closest elevator. He decided to go for the least suspected floor -- the one right above. He tapped his fingers against his leg, a habit of his from when he was small and impatient.

Ding.

He looked up at the sound of the bell and prepared himself to find the nearest apartment he could find.

He rushed into apartment number 2163 and shut the door (he was lucky the door was unlocked). Huh. A studio apartment. The boy didn’t really know what he was expecting… after all, it was the studio apartment floor (different from the two joint apartments he shared with his six friends). A quick glance around his surroundings told him that he was in a nice home; the current resident had filled the room with furniture from his favorite color palette: the white-grey-blue-blacks. It was pretty quiet; it seemed like the owner wasn’t home. That was better, anyways. He wasn’t looking to interrupt someone’s night. To his right, the window facing the city was completely made of glass, and the boy shortly toyed with the idea of how much this apartment cost. His eyes skimmed over the grey couches to the white countertops and the… oh. Oh no.

A girl (who had to be younger than he was) with her long hair neatly tied up in a ponytail stood next to her kitchen counter. A towel she had been wringing out above her kitchen sink was hanging limply from one hand and the other hand was holding a phone to her ear. “I-I’ll call you back, mom. Gotta go,” she stammered into the phone. Her body was still turned towards the sink. He felt bad; it was obvious she hadn’t expected him to barge into her apartment (let’s be honest. Would anyone?). Scared half to death, she dropped her half wet towel into the sink and opened to yell. Hurriedly, he rushed over to cover . Apologizing profusely and begging her to stop trying to tear his arm off was extremely hard for him: trying to sound regretful and still sincere was almost impossible when whisper yelling (he couldn’t let his friend find him, after all). He explained to her that he was running from his crazy friend with water balloons and was so ecstatic that he found a sanctuary to hide in.

She tried to accuse him of lying, but she had forgotten about his hand over in her rage. Frustrated, she pushed him away from her and stood in front of the door, glaring at him and telling him to leave. He just laughed it off and told her she was cute. Even though he didn’t mean it to be so, she was incredibly offended and turned sharply, about to open the door for further emphasis. What she failed to hear was the faint, “Yah! Whose apartment is this? I’m coming in!” from outside. Thus, as soon as she turned the doorknob, the person outside practically rammed it open. If it weren’t for her reflexes, she would have been smacked in the face (and that wouldn’t have been pretty).

She jumped back, bumping into the random intruder behind her as she tried to regain her footing. He caught her in surprise before checking if she was okay. Before she could answer, a water balloon hit her in the face. Silence followed, until “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Bro, why’d you put the girl in front of you?!? Come on! Now I feel bad.”

“Jimin!” the boy yelled, “Just wait until I get a water balloon.”

The boy apologized and left in a hurry, dragging his friend behind him, leaving the girl dripping wet and cold in the middle of her kitchen. Furrowed eyebrows framed her disbelieving eyes and she scoffed, unfreezing and pinching her lips together in annoyance before picking up her the dish rag lying in the sink (that she would now have to wash) and walking to the closet to grab a towel.

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AN: So... first chapter! How was it? I hope you guys liked it :)

this was just a burst of inspiration when I heard Echosmith...

I also hope I didn't dissapoint you and it wasn't lame!

subscribe + feedback :) (it's easier to tell if I should continue this or not because I truly want to)