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PART 1 - PRELUDE
2
Bre - 16 years old
Iwas sixteen years old the first time I fell in love. That whole thing about never forgetting your first love is true. I speak from experience. It didn’t start that way. No good story does.
I stand under the bleachers trying and failing to stay dry. My guitar bag is slung on my back. My song sheets are a wet mess in my backpack.
When the first droplets fell, I knew I should have made a run for it. But I was too engrossed with spying on Kevin Bailey, the football team captain, getting down and dirty with the head cheerleader in the middle of the field. His hands all over her, as she shamelessly lets him touch her like that despite the audience she knows they have. That’s always been my problem, distractions. And now I find myself shivering, the rain coming down harder. I look at my wristwatch. I will be so late, and my mother will have a fit about it.
“You could just brave it and walk into the building, you know.”
My head snaps to the sound of the voice. That annoying guy who drives a motorcycle stands a few feet away from me. I think he’s a senior. “Yeah, then why are you out here?”
“I like the rain,” he says, crouching and touching the wet ground to prove it, an unlit cigarette perched on his lips. What the hell is with that anyway? I mean, is it supposed to make him look cool or something?
“Well, I don’t like the rain. I don’t even like the drizzle.”
He nods. “Guess you’re stuck here then.” He gives me a smirk that’s cute in an odd way. He isn’t, though. Cute, that is. Well, the other girls may be into that tall, scrawny, bad boy sort, but I’m not. I have atype, and my type is out there kissing another girl in the middle of the football field.
“Guess so.” I cross my arms in front of me, afraid that he’ll get a peek at my bra through my white shirt.
“Come on, little kitten, I’ll let you use my jacket to cover up. You’re going to miss the bus.”
Kitten? Argh, what an asshole. I think about his proposal, though. He’s right.
“Why do you want to help me?” I cock a brow. I know guys like him; help a girl out for payment in kind.
“‘Cause, you look like you need it,” he shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “And you don’t want anypayment in kind?”
His eyes widen, that smirk appearing again. “What?”
“Nothing,” I mumble. “Okay, fine.” I concede.
He shrugs out of his black leather jacket and walks over, handing it to me.
I use it to cover my head, hating that I like the smell of it.
“You ready?” He asks. I don’t even know his name.
“Uhm...hmm,” I say even though I’m not.
We make a run for it anyway—all the way to the school block. I’m slightly out of breath when we reach the building. I look over, and his white t-shirt is soaked through. He doesn’t look that scrawny now, I think, then look away.
I spot the bus. “I should go. Thank you for the jacket.”
“Keep it. Give it back to me tomorrow.” He tells me.
“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say, handing it to him.
“Seriously, it’s still raining.” he insists.
“Fine...”
“Denton.” He says with a smirk.
