A Drunken Mistake

A Drunken Mistake - 'I'm not going to rush her; I'm going to fix her.'

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'It's not about being what everyone wants you to be, it's about being yourself and finding someone who truly loves you for what you are.'

Dylan's POV

I can't stop thinking about her; I think I'm going crazy. I've only talked to her once, only noticed her a couple of days ago, but it's like my minds completely taken over by thoughts of her. I want to be close to her, to get to know her, to help her and most importantly, I want to kiss her.

Since the first time she laughed when she told me about her favourite film, I've had the urge to grab her and kiss her every time I see her, which isn't very often now. She doesn't come and eat lunch with me, but that's about to change.

Art again, the one lesson I have with her, and since I got rid of my latest fling, whose name I still don't know, I can willingly sit wherever I want, which today is next to my mysterious beauty.

Katy's POV

I walk into art like I do every day, hood up today though to hide the dark blue bruise on my cheek from Sarah's slap, only to find Dylan Thompson sitting at my usual table, leant back and looking quite comfortable.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask glaring daggers at him.

"Oh morning to you too Kate, I'm doing fine thanks for asking," he grins up at me with his charming smile, making his crystal eyes shine.

"Sorry," I say feeling quite guilty that I didn't ask, "I just wasn't expecting you to be sitting in my seat. What happened to Ashley?"

"Who?" he asks looking genuinely confused, making me honestly shocked. This was this girl who had been clinging to him all week and we all know that she'd slept with him, and he couldn't even remember her name.

"You know, Ashley, this week's girl that been traveling down your pants."

"ASHLEY! That was her name, I remember now. Wow I can't believe I thought it was Maddy, I was way off."

I just sigh, roll my eyes and sit in my seat next to Dylan, who didn't look like he had plans on moving anytime soon.

"So why you sitting here with me, instead of Ashley?" I ask curiously.  I was nothing special, in fact I was nothing, so I couldn't help but wonder why a guy like Dylan is sitting next to me instead of a girl like Ashley, who's every guys dream girl.

"Well I find you more interesting and believe me, Ashley's a bore," he laughs.

I like his laugh, it opens up his whole face, highlighting his already very handsome features.

Suddenly his hand brushes my hood off my head and thrust my head to the side, revealing my bruised cheek.

"What's this?" he asks, anger written over his face taking it from breathtakingly beautiful, to downright scary.

"It's nothing," I mumble, "I feel down the stairs."

The look in his eyes says he clearly doesn't believe me but I just ignore his gaze and start sketching in my sketchbook.

"I don't believe you," his voice breaks me out of my daydream twenty minutes later only to find I've sketched a very detailed picture of me crying on my bed. Stupid daydreams leading me to draw stupid stuff.

"And why's that?" I ask not really caring about the answer.

"Because firstly a bruise like that on a cheek doesn't come from falling down the stairs, believe me I know and secondly someone who holds so much sadness in their eyes, both in real life and on paper, is holding a lot more than just falling down the stairs, now are you going to tell me how that really happened or are you going to keep to your lie?"

I can't believe it; he's figured me out in literally a couple of days. Do I have I'm being abused my foster family written on my forehead or am I just literally that easy to read.

See this is why I don't let people close, they figure the truth out too quickly.

"What did you mean by the fact that you know that this bruise isn't just from falling down the stairs, how do you know?"

Suddenly his face changes to sadness, pain clearly etched over his perfect face, making him look like a little lost boy.

"How about we make a deal," he finally speaks after what felt like forever of silence, something I'm used to,

"I'll tell you my story, if you tell me yours."

Dylan's POV

Her face suddenly closed up, like I closed a book, and I could no longer tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

"And what makes you think I'm just gonna tell you everything about my life, in exchange for finding everything out about yours?" she finally asks, "Mine could be way worse, doesn't seem like a very fair deal."

"Yeah but what if mines worse, then you'd have nothing to worry about. If you want, I'll tell mine first, that way you can decide which ones worst. You never know, we could have very similar lives."

She mumbled something under her breathe that sounded like 'I highly doubt it' before nodding her head, encouraging me to start.

So I told her everything; the fact that I was a drunken mistake nearly killed off in an abortion before I was even born only saved by my dad saying a baby would be great publicity, the fact that from the minute I was born I was thrust into the limelight only to make my parents richer and more famous, the fact that I only act because it's the only thing my parents like about me, the fact that I'm verbally abused everyday by my so called parents who like to take their frustration at everything from work to each other out on me. I sat there and told her everything feeling like the greatest weight in the world had been lifted from my shoulders.

She didn't say anything at first after I finish, she just stares at me with empathy radiating from her perfect eyes.

"Wow, that's not what I was expecting. Don't judge me, but I thought you were just another rich boy, I thought you were going to moan about something stupid, no I was definitely not expecting that."

The way she looked at me after she said that was weird, like she was seeing me for the first time or something.

"Yeah well, the whole rich boy persona is just an act, believe me I'm not really a spoilt rich kid, I promise."

"I believe you," she smiles.

Suddenly the bell rings, letting everyone know it's time for lunch.

Katy gets up and starts to pack her bag, quickly hiding her sketch of her crying, clearly hoping I hadn't seen.

"Katy, have lunch with me again today, it's your turn to pour your heart out," I say praying to god she says yes again.

"Ok sure to the lunch thing, not too sure on the whole pouring my heart out though," she sighs.

"Well, I will happily just settle for lunch then."

She doesn't tell me anything about her life over lunch, we just talk about silly stuff like music and films, but I loved it. Every moment spent with her is amazing, makes me feel like me, the true me, not the fake persona I put on for my parents. She makes me happy.

My god what's happening to me, I think I'm going mental.

I've known this girl for literally two days and she's already making me feel like this. I get the whole clichéd heart skipping a beat crap when I see her, her laugh makes me want to laugh back, her smile is too contagious and every time she talks, I can't help but think how much I want to kiss her, to feel her arms wrapped around my neck, to feel her kissing me back.

But this girl is broken. If you look hard enough, even when she's laughing and smiling with me, you can still see the pain behind her eyes, her sadness.

I'm not going to rush her; I'm going to fix her.