I sat in History that day with a throbbing headache, most likely due to the several beers I had consumed the night before. Yes, I got drunk with my friends on a Thursday night, knowing very well that I had school the next morning. But it was Gordon's eighteenth, so I had a solid excuse. I didn't get drunk that often. No, I found it much more enjoyable watching my friends act like idiots rather than acting like an idiot myself.
"Oh, shoot!"
I turned to my right, a smirk playing at my lips despite my sour mood as the quirky girl from yesterday spoke to herself. I watched as she shrank in defeat, frowning down at her blank notebook.
"Need a pen?" I guessed, raising an eyebrow.
She blinked back at me, a smile forming on her rosy face. "I left my pencil pouch at home," she explained, shrugging sadly.
Pencil pouch, I thought in amusement.
"Well that's quite a shame," I mocked lightly, leaning down and fishing a spare pen out of the depths of my backpack. "But it seems to be your lucky day."
Grinning, I held the pen out to the beaming girl, only to jerk it away just before she could grasp it.
The poor girl looked baffled at first, but when she realized that I was only teasing, she giggled, "Oh, you!"
I chuckled at her, placing the pen in her hand before leaning back again.
"Thank you," she said gratefully.
"Keep it," I told her as she dated the top of her page.
"Oh, no, you don't have to–"
"Please," I interjected. "You still have six more classes to get through, and I really don't think you'll be able to get by without taking notes."
I surprised myself by how sincere my voice sounded, even if it had started out as a joke. Strange...
If possible, her grin widened, and her crystal blue eyes gleamed with joy. "You are a lifesaver!" she proclaimed, holding up the pen as proof.
I merely waved my hand, dismissing her compliment and focusing again on the lesson, my headache forgotten.
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I rolled over in bed, buying my face in my pillow, yanking my blanket over my head, and forcing myself back to sleep.
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It was Monday when I realized I hadn't learned her name, and for some reason, I felt a pressing need to find out.
She came in that day totally glowing, wide smile, bright eyes. She hadn't been walking with anyone, she wasn't looking at her phone, and for goodness sake, it was a goddamn Monday. She had absolutely no reason to be that happy.
"Hi," the chipper girl greeted me as she sat down, hair wrapped up in a bun as it had been every other day.
I smiled back, watching as she went about her everyday routine: taking out her books, opening to last night's homework, flipping to a blank notebook page, dating the top right corner – all the while seeming lost in her own world. It was astounding how organized she was.
"You never told me your name, you know," I said suddenly, causing her to flinch.
"Hey, Dash," a girl, Noelle, cooed over me as she walked by my desk, briefly drawing my attention away from the wide-eyed girl beside me.
"Hey," I answered in a deep voice, only vaguely registering her low-cut top and ass-hugging jeans.
I'd hooked up with Noelle once before – well, we made out until she fell asleep from being way too drunk – but at the moment, I wasn't interested in rekindling the fire. The peculiar girl whose name I'd yet to learn was much more entertaining than Noelle Dirckens and her b-cup push-up bra, which was really nothing to ogle at. And her bland personality certainly wasn't piquing anyone's interest.
I turned away before Noelle could try to strike up a conversation, grinning at my new pet.
"So, your name?" I asked expectantly, ignoring the muddled look on her face as her eyes followed Noelle to the other side of the room. I could picture Noelle's confusion, never having experienced such blatant rejection before. What she lacked in curves and personality, she made up for in promiscuity, which caused most guys to forget about everything else.
She finally met my gaze, blinking back to reality. "Juliet Taylor," she answered, a hint of a smile gracing her feminine features.
Fitting, I thought, smiling and feeling oddly pleased. It was a sweet, delicate name that perfectly suited her sweet, delicate manner. I couldn't get over it, actually. It was so satisfying for some strange reason that I couldn't comprehend. Why did it matter to me so much? I had hit on girls without even bothering to ask their name, and yet I was suddenly obsessed with hers, this girl I'd known for less than a week.
Juliet, I repeated in my mind.
"Juliet," I said aloud, liking the way it rolled smoothly off my tongue. "I'm Dash Mayer."
"Dash, huh?" she mused playfully, a faint blush sprinkled across her cheeks. "How do you get a name like that? Certainly, it doesn't say that on your birth certificate."
I shrugged and smirked, but I refrained from saying something suggestive. I sometimes came up with a pick-up line when girls asked about my name, but I didn't feel the need to this time. If I made a sexual remark of any kind, I would probably scare her away, and I wasn't quite done playing with her yet.
"Just something I picked up when I was younger," I answered, opting for a generic but honest explanation. "It stuck."
Juliet replied, "I like it."
"Do you?" I asked with a quick chuckle. "What a relief."
Juliet giggled, a light, sing-song sound, and glanced down. A strand of shiny hair fell in front of her face, and I watched intently as she swept it back, tucking it behind her ear to reveal her flushed, peachy cheek.
An unfamiliar sensation rushed through me as I looked at her, and I immediately averted my stare. It was so unlike me to talk to a girl in that manner, especially a girl like her. She was kind and cute. Our encounters were so pure, with no underlying agenda on either side. I left her presence feeling warm, unable to suppress a smile.
What would the guys say if they saw me? They'd probably beat me up, laugh in my face, or try to humiliate the poor girl. They somehow gained strength from preying on girls like her, leading the girl to believe she was special only to turn around and ignore her, making the victim feel like shit. They did it quite often, and though they were my friends, I never really approved of the sport. I refused to take part in the sick game and fell silent any time one of them brought it up. Part of me wanted to keep up our little morning conversations, but I had to figure out how to do that without letting her get hurt in the end.
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I jolted awake, feeling as if I'd been having a nightmare. In a way, I had been. Ever since that night three months ago, Juliet hadn't let me sleep through the night, focus in class, or enjoy parties. She constantly inhabited my mind, like a ghost haunting my every thought.
I knew if I could just talk to her, explain everything, then I could reason with her, but she wouldn't let me. She hadn't spoken more than three words to me ever since that dreadful event, and I was struggling to make it by. All I wanted was to talk to her again, even if it never turned into anything.
But that was a lie. I'd realized it that very night, the moment our lips touched for the first time. All I wanted was her. Every part of her, every day, every waking moment. I wanted to hold her hand and kiss her forehead and wrap my arms around her, knowing that she was mine and all mine forever. The thing that was supposed to get her out of my mind forever only intensified my feelings for her, my crave to taste her lips and hold her close again.
But she hadn't spoken to me since. She hated me, dreaded seeing me in class every morning, probably cringed at the thought of me.
There was a faint knock at my bedroom door, but I made no response, and after a few seconds, the door was gently pushed open.
"Dash?" my mom's voice asked.
I peered out from under the covers. She poked her head around the door, her usually smooth and shiny hair thrown up in a careless bun and her eyes flooded with concern. She hadn't gotten much sleep recently either, and it was visible in her face.
"Dash, it's one in the afternoon, sweetie," she went on when I remained silent, my blanket pulled over my head again. "Please get up. I made you some pancakes."
Her voice, thick with sadness and exhaustion, made my stomach fill with remorse. I made her like that. It was my fault she wasn't sleeping.
Slowly, I pulled my blanket off and swung my legs over the side of my bed, blinking in the bright light streaming in from the window.
"I'll be down in a minute," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
Quietly, Mom shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind her. I didn't know the extent of her knowledge about my situation – I certainly hadn't told her anything of what happened – but I knew she thought it had something to do with Juliet. At this point, Juliet was the only person who could have such a devastating effect on me. There was no one I cared so much about.
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please vote and leave a comment to tell me what you think!