Hearts a Mess

Chapter 1: Stinging Skin


"We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear."

-Lorde "Tennis Court"


Keeping your head down in school is just easier, I learned that in Sophomore year. Plus, it makes it easier to count your footsteps when you're staring at your shoes. My worn black converse take-

One, two. It's after hours, no one is around. Three, four. The halls are empty, you can raise your eyes. Five, six. God, your shoes are loud when you aren't surrounded by rushing kids.

I give up consciously counting after that even though the little numbers still trickle by in the back of my mind. It's just as much a habit as walking with my head down by now. Anything would be when you've been doing it for going on three years. I knew high school would never be completely easy, even as early as my second year here, but I never imagined I'd still be counting my steps at the beginning of Senior year. I guess things don't always work out how you think they will.

Walking a little quicker now, I tuck a lock of my wavy brunette hair behind my ear so I can take a short glance at my surroundings. I'm still alone, as far as I can see. It's a bit unnerving, seeing a school as big as Marino be completely empty, but I guess no one wanted to stick around on the first day of school- I didn't really want to either, I shouldn't have, but it's my last first day, and I'll have to deal with the consequences later. I don't know how much I'll miss these off-white brick walls until I'm gone. They've been lonely, but at the same time my only savior. Then again, how can I even be sure that he'll let me leave?

Getting emotional is the last thing I want to do right now, so I wipe the non-existent sweat of my palms off on my skinny jeans, smooth out my yellow scoop neck tee, and fix the straps of my backpack. I even make sure my white infinity scarf is in place, then I mentally congratulate myself for trying to look nice today, even though I did put on a scarf during a Florida summer. I decide that I still get an A+ for effort, and work next at swallowing the lump that attempted to form in my throat. Even though I'm alone, no one is going to see me upset; I won't risk it. No one sees me upset. It's not like they'd care, anyway; that I know for sure.

Things weren't always bad. Freshman year was pretty good, well the majority of it. I had friends, I had fun, and most importantly, I had my future. I've always made good grades, outstanding ones really, and I've never had to try. Of course, me being me, I still did, and because of my intelligence, my thirst! for knowledge, and my work ethic everyone was sure I'd have a scholarship and career of my choice in the bag. Studying was just a part of me back then, like my dark hair or the sparkle in my chestnut eyes. But, just like the sparkle, the studying died; I still make good grades, though. It must be hard for life to entirely rob a person of their former self. I must admit that it has done a damn good job of it thus far, though.

A week before Freshman year ended, the week after final exams, you know the one where you're allowed to do whatever you want as long as you don't tear down the walls or wake the exhausted teacher, I was informed that something had gone wrong during my mother's trip. She used to study animals, you see. She'd travel all around the world, observe the most interesting species the world had to offer, and write research books on them. She was an exact older replica of me: bright, bustling, excited to be living, to be doing something that made a difference. Everyone said they saw her in me exactly. I still don't know why her jeep engine had to fail in Africa, or why she was taken from me just before I would need her the most. Hell, I don't even know about the African apes. Now, I'm left with no mom, no new research book, and an ever-increasing number of face down footsteps. How long is this God forsaken hallway, anyway?

I finally reach the door just as I'm about to scream from the quiet when it opens in on me and smacks hard into my chest. I'm not a very big girl, 17 years old and only 5'2. As I fall backwards to the floor, I catch myself with the outstretched palms of my hands and silently wish I had more weight. It probably could've helped absorb some of the blow. Too bad for my poor hands; I pull one up to examine it, and it glows a screaming red.

Before I can make a move to get up, another hand comes into my view. It isn't a beet red color, and I smirk to myself. I bet your hands don't feel like they've been doused in gasoline and lit up. Thanks for opening the door, bud. Raising my head, I follow the hand up the owner's arm until I see their face through a curtain of my loose hair. Of course it's you. I wouldn't have suspected anyone else.

Attached to the appendage is none other than Marino's very own resident Golden Boy. His title is fitting too; tan skin, blonde waves, standing at least 6 foot with a million watt smile and enough sports talent to lead us to State in three different sports three years in a row. Go Manatees! I scoff and lift myself up, brushing off my jeans as I do so. I don't need help up from Austin Moon; I wouldn't want to burden someone as perfect as him.

"Oh shit, hey, look I didn't see you there. Sorry 'bout that." He goes on mumbling something about damn doors while I stand there and stare at him like he's an idiot. He's dressed in full football uniform, a yellow and white jersey with blue lettering and yellow pants, and his hair is soaked through with sweat to the point that it appears almost a light brown shade. I piece together that they must've just finished practice. Shit, have I been here that long? My heart starts to pitter and patter a bit faster, and the only coherent thought I can form in the moment is that Nathan is going to be pissed. That is not a good thing.

Shaking my head at Perfect Boy, I start to move around him for the door.

"Look, it's whatever. Thanks for not opening it faster." I push open the door, and I can feel his eyes on me as I beeline to the parking lot. He's probably not used to being interrupted. He's Austin Moon, people feel special when they get to talk to him, like they've been inducted into his special little club full of special little people that he's never wanted to speak with more than them. He has that quality, charm that makes you believe there's no one in the world he'd rather be carrying on a conversation with. Too bad for him, but I haven't had time for clubs since Freshman year. I pour my weakness to charm down the kitchen sink every morning with the rest of my black coffee. He may mean everything to Marino, but he means nothing to me.

The only thing that means anything right now is getting to Nate's car before he gets too angry. I spot the dark sports car in no time and hurry over to it as fast as I can. I tug my lips up when I reach the passenger door. He likes a happy Ally, so Happy Ally he'll get.

I pull open the door and slide into the leather seat, setting my bag at my feet, before I close the door carefully. That's another thing I learned; you never, and I mean never, slam the doors of his car. That would be a mistake. I buckle up and make sure my lips haven't fallen into another setting before I finally turn to him. It's such a shame that he's so beautiful, and he really is. Soft, brown hair, sharp bone structure, smooth skin, and long, dark lashes that fan out above calm sea green eyes. Except, right now, they aren't calm. The weather man must have predicted a storm off the coast because I can see the waves crashing on the rocks reflected back at me. I look like I'm about to be thrown against them, so I reach out a hand to him.

"Hey, babe I'm sorry I'm late I-" My face cracks left, and my soft tone dies off in the spacious vehicle. My right cheek must resemble the blotches of fire that formed on my palms earlier, and I wonder how many times a girl has to be tossed into a rock on the edge of shore before she dies. I don't try to guess, that takes time. Slowly, I bring my gaze back up to him and fight any tears or choked up sounds. I still smile through the searing pain.

"I've been sitting here for 30 minutes. I thought I was going to have to go in there and drag your dumbass out." He doesn't even make eye contact with me, just looks forward, both hands on the steering wheel now. Does his hand hurt like my face? Probably not.

"I'm sorry, Nate, really I am. Please-" He cuts me off again, his right hand in the air. He brings that same hand back down to the ignition and presses the "push to start" button. The engine roars to life. It's not until we're flying out onto the road that he addresses me again.

"Next time, I'm going to leave you. Or I'll come in and kill whoever you were with. You were with someone else weren't you?" He flicks his stormy eyes to me quickly, then adjusts his mirrors, speeds up a bit. We were already doing 30 miles over the limit. "You've always been a slut." He spits the last word at me, and my stomach drops.

"Oh, no. No. You know me. I would never…" I trail off, and drop my gaze to my lap where my hands sit, entwined tightly together. When he gets like this, it's not even worth trying to fight back. Angry Nate is not my favorite Nate. I like funny, loving Nate. The one who noticed me when everyone else only saw a strange, quiet girl. I couldn't help that I was 15, and my mom had just died. Sue me for being confused.

"Maybe next time, I will just leave. How does that sound? The only person who gives a shit about you gone because you're a stupid whore." He drops his tone, it gets darker, more pointed at me. "Without me, you have no one." He's mostly right. He's all I do have, other than my father. My father is a completely different story, though. He tried his best after my mother died, but the fact of the matter was that he was heartbroken. He did the only thing he knew to do, throw himself into business and create a bustling music store. My mother would've liked it, and I would too if I still let myself think about music. My dad did his best, so I don't blame him for his fallen daughter.

We're already pulling onto my street at this point. I guess Nathan didn't want to waste anymore of his time; I don't blame him. I wouldn't spend time on me either.

He comes to a screeching halt in my driveway, and reaches over to put a hand on my thigh before I can unbuckle my belt. He squeezes my skin through my pants, and I know he wants my attention. Looking me in the eyes, he tightens his grip even further. It hurts now, a lot, but I don't mention it.

"Remember that, Ally. I'm all you have. Without me, you have no one." I nod as he continues to search my eyes with his own. He releases me thigh, pleased, and smiles, softening his eyes. There he is, my Nathan. My Nate with his foamy green eyes and easy-going grin. "Come here." He kisses me on the mouth quickly and pats my hands on my lap. "I love you." He says, sweetly. I nod earnestly.

"I love you, too." He grins and nods himself. He reaches over me and opens my door. I get out and scoop down to look into the car at him.

"I'll be here in the morning to get you for school. Bye, Allyson." I shut the door and watch as he backs out of my gravel drive and speeds off.

"Bye." I whisper to no one in particular and turn to walk inside. I need to get ice on my face; Nate doesn't like it when I bruise.


Well, this is my first attempt at an A&A story on this account! I haven't written any fanfic lately, so I apologize for any rustiness! I hope you like it, and let me know what you think in the reviews!

As always, I own nothing but the plot and any original characters. Thanks for reading!

-Taylor