Chapter One – Take off Your Colours

'Those eyes you bought have gone to my head'

You want to know what I really hate?

Alarms.

You want to know what I hate more than that?

Alarms on a Monday morning.

Seriously, as if getting up wasn't painful enough.

'Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man: no time to talk.'

'What a retro song,' I thought to myself, humming along half asleep.

I turned my head to look at the clock on my bedside table.

7.45.

I groaned against my pillow before dragging my sorry ass out of bed for school. I actually sort of hated sixth form; the own clothes situation was more of a hindrance than I'd originally thought. The daily rummage-to-find-something-decent-and-not-wrinkled in my wardrobe was becoming increasingly annoying.

"Daisy!" my roommate, Abigail, called from downstairs, "you want some bacon?"

"Do you need to ask?!" I shouted back. Her distant laughter echoed up the stairs.

I loved Abi. She'd been one of my best friends since primary school when she shoved Melanie Andrews' face into the sandpit for calling me a 'pathetic little mong-chode.' Now I don't know where she'd got the colourful vocabulary from but hey, without it, our friendship would have never blossomed. So thanks Melanie Andrews. You're still a she-devil though.

Eventually, after diving deep into the clothing-version of Mauna Kea (the actual tallest mountain on earth, I'll have you know) I pulled out a pair of dark acid-washed skinny jeans and a band tee that didn't have a stain on it – hazaar.

I brushed my rats nest of a hair until the curls looked reasonably presentable, dabbed a bit of mascara on – you never know, I might want to pull today *cue seductive pose* - yanked on my converse and manoeuvred my way out of my bedroom door; it's quite a challenge, let me tell you.

The sweet, succulent scent of simmering bacon caught my nostrils, calling its siren song (or… scent) to it.

My feet wandered to the kitchen of their own accord and took me to a seat on the little island in the middle of the room. Abi was stood at the cooker, wearing a onesie and singing along under her breath to a little tinny radio that was blaring some indie record I wasn't familiar with.

'Mmmm, bacon,' I mumbled and Abi laughed again, before putting enough bacon on my plate to feed 5000; she truly was Jesus reincarnated. She left to get ready, though personally I think she should go in her onesie.

After I'd all but licked my plate clean of anything edible, I retreated back upstairs to organise my books and stuff. I swear, they've given me the heaviest books ever and they know my upper body strength is like -849329282 away from average.

Checking my timetable, I sighed.

Double English lit, Physics, P.E, Free, followed by a nice helping of Psychology.

I grabbed my trusty iPod and phone from the table, adjusted my backpack and left, shoving my ear-buds as I went. I took my time selecting a song as Abi and I headed for her beaten Ford, not wanting it to be too depressing for such a bad day, or too happy because then the mood would be ruined when we approach the priso- oh I mean school.

After much internal deliberation in which I threatened to stab myself in the placenta multiple times, I pressed play.

Thank god for bacon and music, on days like today.

We pulled up to school in Abi's 'Swag mobile', leaving all those little dweeb walkers in our dust – although I can't judge as I used to be one. But not any more suckers, hahahaha!

Strolling out of the car like total bosses, we headed up to our usual haunt; by the bike shed all the way at the top of the school. Abi flaunted her impossibly long legs walking up the impossibly steep steps, her legs looking even more impossibly long in her black flowery skirt and indie tee combo, and her blonde hair was curled to perfection. She looked like a walking tumblr girl. Oh, she was out to turn heads today. But there was only one in particular she cared about. And that was Josh.

Josh Franceschi was the hottest boy to roam these halls, ever if the mongaloids in the other year are anything to go by. With the tousled quiff and captain-of-the-football-team status, not to mention the fact that his singing voice was the mixture of a mermaid and Jesus, he was the 'bachelor' of the school. He also happened to be my best friend.

And it was for that reason, that I could scream like a banshee and attack-hug him as soon as I saw him like he'd been in Africa for 13 years and we'd only just been reunited, and it not be seen as weird. Much.

He laughed and enveloped me in a cocoon of man smell.

"Hello, my special moonbeam," he said to me with a nerdy accent. "Salutations, my sundrop of Assisi," I replied.

Yeah.

We were pretty weird.

I lost that thing called self-consciousness many years ago.

Once, a Uniform (what we call the lower years) asked if we were going out. I pretty much laughed in their face. Now, don't get me wrong, Josh is an extremely attractive boy, but the thought of us together… it's so just wrong. Like incest. I think of him as my actual blood brother.

He let me go as he embraced Abi in a similar, if not so weird, fashion. I made my rounds to the other boys, cracking jokes, playfully telling them (mainly Max) that no, they could not touch my boob and no, there was still nothing I would do for 50p and other such nonsensical things.

After greetings and the usual morning flanter (flirty banter) had been exchanged, I noticed a lone figure stood up against the wall, a few metres away from our group. A very fit figure.

His posture was aggressively poor; a cocky yet sexy look was set on his face as his foot tapped to the beat of unheard music. The black polo shirt and low slung jeans hugged his lean frame in all the right places and a grey beanie donned his blonde head. When I saw his arms, I almost drooled; tattoos were patterned along both of them and boy, were they sexy. Everything about him just screamed 'I don't give a fuck, shag me now.' And I'll be damned if I didn't want to.

His attractiveness was a lot different to Josh's attractiveness – Josh was the kind of boy you brought home to your mother and he would say please and thank you and excuse me, the whole shebang, he may even offer to help wash the dishes after. No, this boy was the kind that your mom would ground you for even considering.

My mom would so ground me.

I turned, trying to find Josh to ask him about this mystery boy, because Josh was a sucker for gossip – he knew everything about everyone. I looked back to him as I pulled Josh from the rabble that was our group, and saw him already staring at me.

His eyes burned into mine with an intensity that knocked me out of balance and out of breath. They were an ethereal electric blue, deep like the ocean, yet holding some sort of fire to them. They were glorious.

Rather abruptly, I was wrenched from my little staring competition by Josh clicking his fingers in my face. Annoyed, I turned toward Josh, giving him my best death glare to which he recoiled, knowing the true extent of my anger. Not a pretty sight.

When I looked back to the boy, I saw him smirking at me, his eyebrow raised as if to say 'I won.'

I turned back away.

I hated losing.

Even more than early Monday morning alarms.

"Who is that, over there, leaning on the wall?" I asked Josh.

"What? That one leaning against the wall? Beanie? Baggie jeans? Looking like a threat to society? Well, Funny you should mention that, Big D," he said, tossing his arm carelessly over my shoulder, "That charming-looking young gentleman is my new neighbour, Daniel Flint. My mom said I should keep an eye out for him because he's like adopted or fostered or his parents got a divorce or something, she doesn't know which for sure yet. She told me she'll keep me informed."

I shook my head at the eccentricity of his mom. What a character.

There was something about him though, something that pulled me to him but they weren't that positive; it was a I-want-to-give-you-a-massive-hug-and-say-I'm-sorry kind of pull. I slapped myself internally for pitying him because pity was a horrible selfish emotion, basically saying you acknowledge someone's problem but not actually doing anything to resolve anything. It raised you above the other person, giving you unwanted permission to pat them on the head and tell them it was ok when the person knew that it wouldn't be and think that you didn't really care.

I told myself I could have one more glance but when I looked for him, he was already gone.

My thoughts wandered all day to Daniel Flint, and his blue eyes and his sexy smirk and his tapping foot.

Abi noticed my distraction and constantly had to kick me to wake me up in lessons. She suspected 'boy' as soon as she'd seen my face in form and she had my back – pounds chest. Homies 4 lyfe. Peace.

At lunch, Josh invited Daniel over to our table in the canteen– they'd just had History together and they got on like a house on fire.

J-Man took a seat between me and Max, leaving the only free seat opposite me. Daniel had a sort of wary confidence as he sat, eyes locked on mine. I blushed furiously.

He smirked.

"Peasants, this is Dan. Dan, this is-" pointing to us each in turn, "Max, Matt, Chris, Abi and Daisy."

Dan said hi to everyone, while pointedly fixing his eyes on me. Max nudged me subtly and squealed like a pre-pubescent girl in my ear.

I tried to avoid his eyes for the rest of lunch, choosing instead to fool around with Josh, telling cheesy jokes, and giving Max a lovely present of a dead arm when he kept saying 'Giggity' after everything I said. I couldn't resist it in the end though.

He was talking to Matt and Chris animatedly about a band – the Pigeon Detectives, I think – saying how they should release a new album and do some more shows. The passion about music that rung clear and genuine in every note turned me onto him even more. Seriously.

Matt said something I couldn't hear that made him laugh.

I swear, I almost creamed right there.

His laugh is the single most beautiful sound in the world. It lilted and rose yet was still very masculine and deep and sexy; it went straight to my loins.

Cue melting into my chair.

Max announced that he was thirsty and vacated his seat next to me to go get a drink. He went the long way, and stopped by Dan.

Bending down, he whispered something in his ear, straightened up and left.

I frowned but shook it off; it was probably something in boy-language – it's something that nobody has been able to decipher fully yet.

I leaned across Josh to say something to Abi and somebody cleared their throat in the seat next to me.

Dan's amorous blue eyes burned into mine.

And what did I do?

Jump.

Almost into Josh's lap. Smooth, Daisy.

"Woah, Dais, I know I'm attractive but keep it in your pants," Josh chuckled.

"You wish I wanted you baby," I replied snarkily.

I turned back to Dan, who was smiling so widely I lost the ability of speech. Holy fuck. Not even my ex, Scott, could turn me on with just a look.

"Sorry Dan, Josh is the biggest man-slut ever," I said breathily.

He laughed and I groaned internally. He had to stop doing that.

"It's ok Daisy," he chuckled, "I know."

I turned on the flirt charm to maximum but I tried to make it subtle. Judging from the looks of my friends, it sort of failed. Dan didn't seem to notice though so that's always a plus.

I discovered some interesting things; his favourite band was All Time Low or The Killers but he liked pretty much all genres of music. He supported Arsenal (to which I gagged in horror.) He'd just moved here with his mom. He preferred Fosters to Guinness. Just stupid little stuff like that. The punk appearance was well off; he was well mannered, funny…

Speaking to him was the happiest I'd been in a long while.

It just begged to be ruined.

And that's exactly what happened.