FicWad

Author's Note: So it's been literally about a year since I've posted this D: I'm sincerely sorry to anyone who was waiting for an update, and I can only say that I'm lazy, and although that's not much of an excuse, I really do have alot of this written already so hopefully I'll have more up soon. Oh, and also, hugs and thank yous go out to the people who reviewed, I really do appreciate it :]





It seems to him that she had always been around. Quiet, still, trying so hard not to draw any attention to herself. She always seemed so aware of herself and her surroundings; always careful of what she did or said, as if she were a glass ornament, afraid to fall and shatter.



He knows that she transferred in from somewhere, he doesn't know from where, but he wants to. He wants to know a lot about her, everything actually, but he'd never admit it and he'd break his own arm before he would ever ask her.



The first time that he saw her was sometime in the middle of November. He was sitting in the courtyard with a small group of friends before school, tired and cold and smoking a cigarette. A conversation pointless to him floated around his head; someone wanted some weed, someone else was hungry, someone else was desperately trying to finish their first period homework so they didn't fail. It was all the same shit.



And then she walked by, slow and careful and unnoticed by everyone except him. Just like that, she entered his life like a breeze. He didn't know who she was, had never seen her before. Didn't know her name, where she lived, where she came from, what kind of music she listened to or what kind of movies she liked or what she liked to do in her free time. All he knew was that at that very moment he looked up, just as she was walking by, staring down at a piece of paper in her hand as if it had the very answer to life written on it, and she had him captivated.



At first, he tagged it as curiosity.



She was new and interesting looking and he was inquisitive by nature. So when he started to subconsciously follow her to her classes, he didn't give it a second thought. Nor did he wonder when he began to notice the little things about her, like the shade of purple in her eyeglass frames, or the soft shade of mocha that her skin turned to when it picked up sunlight, or the way she never seemed to know what to do with her hands. However, he did start to worry a little bit when he started to immediately scan for her face when he entered a room, and when he started to think about what he would say to her if he ever had the opportunity, and a little more so when he noticed himself staring at her breasts on more than one, or two, or ten occasions.



But it was one surprisingly warm afternoon a few months ago, after the last bell had rung and they were waiting for the bus, that he really, really realized that might have a bit of a problem. She had just passed them by, talking quietly with a friend, backpack hanging from one shoulder and black hair shining in the sunlight, and just like every other time he saw her, he watched her, eyeing the bounce of her hair and the sway of her arms and the way her jeans clung to her legs and the roundness of her ass.



"Who's that chick?" someone asked, and everyone's eyes turned to her, and he felt his cheeks heat up. Fuck, he knew what this would lead to, and he was not in the mood.



"I don't know. I've seen her around though."



"Yeah, me too. She's really quiet."



"I don't think she knows a lot of people here."



"She was in my English class before I switched out. I don't really remember her name though."



"It's Lea." The conversation stalled in a surprised silence when he uttered her name softly, not looking up from the screen of his iPod. He felt the heat of their stares, could feel their confusion, but fuck them, he didn't owe them an explanation.



"How'd you find that out?" He didn't answer, still didn't look up.



"Oh yeah, Tyler's always staring at her."



"Ahaha, Ibet he wants to bone her."



"Dude. She's, like...fat."



"Yeah, but I heard fat chicks are really tight."



Every word caught his blood on fire, until he was sure it was boiling in his veins. He finally looked up, icy blues stopping all snickering as if on queue.



"Shut the fuck up before I knock your fucking teeth down your fucking throat." The phrase was measly considering how downright livid he was, but since he had quite the reputation for carrying out his threats, he heard nothing else from them the rest of the afternoon, or since. They had all turned away, a slight awkward silence following, and he had blinked down at his iPod, wondering just why the hell this girl he had never technically met took him from perfectly calm to threatening his friends with bodily harm in a matter of seconds. And things only got worse from there.



Nothing seemed to stop him from watching her, or wondering what she was doing at any particular moment, or thinking about how it would feel to touch her. Nothing stopped him from wanting her, from hating himself for wanting her, from trying anything in his power to keep himself from wanting her.



And he tried forgetting her, he tried ignoring her, he tried getting high and getting drunk and fucking other girls thinking maybe, maybe then he would be able to keep his mind off of her for just one second, maybe he could finally think about something, anything else besides the haunting visage of himself undressing her, of her full lips pressed against his or wrapped around him, of his fingertips caressing her skin, slicked with sweat.



It just never stopped; nothing ever worked. It ate at him until he was half out of his mind, almost ready to approach her, take her by the shoulders, demand that she tell him just what the hell kind of spell she had cast over him, because he was sure something wasn't right. But no matter how much he torments himself over her, she never seems to cast him a second glance, and that is quite possibly what bothers him the most about it all.



Tyler is used to getting exactly what he wants, who he wants, when he wants it. He knows he's not unattractive, far from it actually, and when a girl catches his eye, it's only a matter of time before they're fucking in his room, or on her couch, or in the backseat of his car. But this one was different on so many levels. /She /was different. In fact, she was so different that that dark, incredibly shallow part of him knew that if he ever approached her he'd be laughed out of town by his friends and anyone else within earshot, which in itself scared him away. But what was even worse than that was the fact that she just...didn't seem to want him. And he wasn't used to that; girls always wanted him.



He has the look of a rebel. Dark hair, bone straight and long, with pale skin and atall frame. Tight jeans, tight shirts, studded belts. A pierced lip, a ring in his nose, frost-blue eyes. He's gotten laid enough to know that his features are attractive, made out with enough girls to know that he shouldn't worry too much about chasing members of the opposite sex. They usually just come to him. And some part of his mind thinks that he may have been waiting for that to happen with Lea. Maybe he was just enough of an egotistical bastard to think that she would be stunned and dazzled by his beauty, come flocking to him, and then he could satisfy his desires quietly and privately and no one would have to know and he could move on with his life. But she failed to fall all over herself for him, and he was left confused and irritated and turned on.



Something that he was not used to and didn't like. Not one bit.