CHAPTER 1: UNTOUCHABLE

I don't party often. I mean, yeah it's fun to get drunk and do stupid shit every now and then, but there's something unappealing about the setting in general.

It's the people, really. They want to show off how much they can drink, how outgoing they can really be, and maybe get the courage to do something they'd never otherwise do. It was cool at first, but now it's just fucking annoying. But I'm not a hypocrite, so I'll admit that I'm here at this party for that last reason.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have come at all. I don't usually go to parties where I don't know the host, and I definitely don't know whose house this is. I think it's some chick named Stacy. I don't really know her, I don't talk to her, and I can only tell you for sure that she's a brunette. Other than that, I have nothing. I'm somewhat popular, like almost everyone at school knows who I am, and my party rep is widely known which is why a lot of people are looking at me like I might be an illusion.

So why did I come to this particular party? Well, that goes back to getting the courage to do something I'd never otherwise do. Which, for me, is finally talking to someone I've been wanting badly – like real bad – for a while now.

I've known her for four years now and not once have I had a conversation with her. We've said things like, "Can I borrow a pencil?", "What was the homework for English last night?", or "Are we going to have a test tomorrow?".

As you can tell those aren't the types of things you talk about with the person you like. That doesn't mean that I'm completely incompetent in dealing with girls; in fact, I've had my fair share of girlfriends over the years. Take Lissa, for example, the most popular girl at our school – or sluttiest, either works. I'd seen her for all of two seconds before I decided she would be my next girlfriend and so I went up to her, asked her out, and then we were dating. We went out for 3 months before I broke up with her.

So, the reason I haven't asked this girl out isn't because I am incapable, or I don't know how, it's just that…she's different. And not the typical, oh she dresses differently, she speaks her mind, and all that other bullshit. She is so unlike every other girl I've met that I'm actually nervous around her. She's untouchable. It's common knowledge. She's sexy, sarcastic, confident, and so much more. This combination is what makes her untouchable, and so how do you even ask out the untouchable girl?

Normally, I'd still be trying to come up with some plan so I knew that she would go out with me, but then something happened: she switched schools.

She was more than popular at school, she was envied (most of the girls) and loved (most of the guys) by everyone. She was – no – still is perfect. So when she left, everyone knew. Rumor has it that her family was becoming richer and their house wasn't big enough, so they moved to one of the mansions on the outskirts of town and therefore had to switch to her new zone school.

There went my carefully planned strategies and the time I needed. So here I am, one month into my senior year, with no plan and just ready to wing it. It'd been talked about in school that she was going to be at this party because her best friend was cousins with Stacy and so I ditched all my prejudices about parties and decided to make my appearance.

But so far she's been nowhere in sight.

"Hey dude," my best friend, Iggy, says as he nudges me, a beer in one hand. "Loosen up, talk to some people. You look like you're going to burn a hole through the door if you stare at it any harder."

I shrug him off and maintain my position on the couch, a pretty blonde at my side. "I am talking to people," I mutter, gesturing to her. She gives me a lazy smile, already buzzed off of whatever liquor she had in her red cup.

He glances at her, unimpressed. "Right," he deadpans and then grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a slight shake, some of his beer sloshing onto my arm. "Dude, relax! She'll be here, and when she does, you'll be the first to know."

I sigh. Iggy is the only who knows about my…crush, and I like to keep it that way. Otherwise, everyone would think I'm a wuss for making such a big deal over it. But I am starting to look like a buzzkill, so I stand up. "All right. It's not like she'll just come and go. I'm going to get something to drink," I tell him, and then walk away as he grins in satisfaction.

Another thing about high school parties: no one can ever manage to get any of the good shit. So I'm left with either cheap beer or $9 vodka. Vodka with cranberry juice it is. As I'm filling up my cup, a quiet murmur starts to circulate around the house. It's weird that this is even occurring when the music is clearly loud enough to get the neighbors annoyed, and everyone is yelling, but there's almost a different, tangible energy in the air.

"I can't believe she really showed up, this is awesome!" a boy practically screeches next to me, probably a junior. I have half a mind to roll my eyes at this, you can always tell when someone is new to the party scene, but it's his words that stop me. There can only be one person who can get everybody hyped up like this. Only one person who can liven up a party and can cause a sort of giddiness to go through the air.

I carefully grab my drink, take a deep breath, and head to the living room. And it's true. Standing by the door with her two best friends, stands the one and only, the untouchable Maximum Ride.

It takes me a moment to compose myself after the initial jolt of electricity I felt running through me at the sight of her.

Maximum Ride is perfection.

I'd be shocked if you could find a girl better looking than her. Her long, straight brown hair reaches the middle of her back and is accentuated by small streaks of natural blonde – something many girls have tried to replicate but have been unable to. She has a straight, narrow nose, and her lips are a perfect cupid's bow. God, I've dreamed of kissing those lips probably a thousand times since I first saw her.

But her eyes. She has wide, almond shaped eyes, the color of golden brown with green rays stemming out from the pupil – I know this because she sat in front of me once and when she turned to pass me some papers I was instantly captivated. Eyes like those do not belong on this earth.

She's perfect all around. She has fair skin – I've never seen a single blemish on her skin – and she's tall. Like 5'9" tall. Which would make her only four inches shorter than me. And her body. I could go on and on about her body forever, but I'll just say that I've never seen a girl make muscle look sexier.

She was perfection indeed. And perfection was escaping me.

As my mind burned with the image of her, I hadn't noticed that she was now gone. In her place now stood a bunch of underclassmen that I couldn't care less for. Damn it.

I swallow the liquid in my drink, practically burning my throat, and push through the crowd and the dancing people as I make my way over to where I believe she might have gone. But once I arrive, the second living room, I notice that she's not even there.

God, I've seen her many times throughout the years and I never fail to stop and stare, and now my opportunity was slowly closing because of my inability to not marvel at her.

I catch up to Iggy when I see him in the backyard by the pool.

"Max is here," I tell him without preamble.

He grins knowingly. "Do you need some encouraging words?"

I stare at him. "No." But maybe they would be helpful. But no. "I lost her."

"Oh," he says, nodding his head like he knew the perfect solution. "Have you looked through the entire house?"

I scratch the back of my head. "Well, no. I want you to text Nudge and ask her where she's at." Nudge was one of Max's best friend, and was apparently very close to Iggy. Something I found out the day before.

"Ah, very good idea," he confirms with a complacent grin. He's drunk. Iggy isn't the type to go crazy when drunk. He acts mellow and all-knowing. Which is great because at least I don't have to stop him from doing stupid things. He takes out his phone and texts. A second later he receives a message. They must be really close. "She says they're chilling up in the attic."

I nod and grin.

Iggy laughs. "Dude, I swear, if I didn't know any better I'd say that you love this chick. But you've never really met her so that's not true."

My grin is replaced by a scowl. "Don't remind me," I answer, begrudgingly. "But that's changing tonight."

As I start to walk away, I notice that Iggy is following me. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

He chuckles. "I'm going up to see Nudge. It's time for me and her to get reacquainted, if you know what I mean." And then he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. So that's their connection.

I laugh and shove him towards the door. "I knew you guys couldn't have an innocent friendship."

"Hey!" he shouts as we make our way up the stairs. "I wanted to keep it innocent, she was the one who suggested we go further."

"Right."

We climb up the three stories until we finally arrive at the door to the attic. The nerves start getting to me. Max is in there. She's probably being superior standing by the wall with multiple guys trying to get at her. She's probably ignoring them, like she'll do to me. I've never been insecure, but Max has this way of making everyone else feel like they're not good enough and I'm no exception.

But then Iggy pushes the door open and I need to stop thinking because Max isn't standing by the wall, but rather is playing pool and it's her turn.

She's bent at the waist, her butt in our direction, which I'll admit is a beautiful view, and the room is relatively silent except for some R&B song playing quietly in the background and the sound of table hockey being played by Angel and Nudge, Max's friends.

Iggy leaves me to pursue Nudge and I'm left by the door. I shut it, but I can't move. Four years of trying to talk to her, and I've finally come to the moment. I'd just have to wait for her to finish her game and then approach her before anyone else does. But that's easier said than done.

Before I realize it, I'm moving towards the center of the room, to where the pool table is. I stand off by the side and watch the game. She's got perfect form, and every time she shoots, it's smooth and quick, the ball swiftly going into the hole.

I whistle appreciatively after she sinks in the eight ball, and I want to slap myself almost immediately, because seriously, who whistles anymore? She glances up at me, through long eyelashes, with those entrancing eyes and I almost feel myself stop breathing.

I smirk, knowing that many girls find it sexy. "You're good," I tell her.

She lifts herself up, hands the cue stick to some guy for the next game and comes to stand in front of me. Jeez, I can feel my heartbeat getting faster. Can I get any more pathetic? She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

"Nick, right?" she asks, and for a moment I'm so stunned that she's even remembered my name that I forget to speak. She smiles mockingly and turns to leave, but then I say, "Fang."

She stops and stares at me. "What?"

I cough somewhat discretely, trying to diminish any chances of my voice cracking. "My name's Nick, but everyone calls me Fang."

She smiles slightly and says, "Interesting nickname." Then she begins to leave again, but I can't let her, or else I've lost all my chances.

"So Max," I say, following her. She doesn't even look surprised that I know her name. Everyone knows her. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

She eyes me from the corner of her eye and smirks. Is it weird that I find this incredibly hot?

She shrugs.

"I like to practice my shots on the weekends," she answers simply in her smooth voice. It's not high like a girl's usually is, but it's deep enough to make her sound seductive, almost. She doesn't need to seduce me, I'm ready and willing.

"Oh, really," I say, nonchalantly. I don't want to come off as desperate like so many other guys that she rejects. "Somewhere like Jenna's?" but I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I've said the wrong thing.

She stiffens and glares at me. There's a reason she's untouchable; she's not the type of person you would want to mess with. But I'm not going to cower before her, so I maintain a stoic mask. "What makes you think I would go there?"

I shrug. "It's close, convenient, and cheap?" I didn't mean it as a question, but my self-esteem is going down in her presence.

She narrows her eyes. "You and everyone else knows that that place is worth shit."

Of course! I forgot. That place is owned by her ex-boyfriend's father, and after she broke up with him, that place became forbidden. No one went there anymore. It was a miracle the place was even open still.

"Well, it's the only cue club in town," I comment, trying to get any hatred she might have for me to go away.

"There's The Crawl," she says, looking away and then going through some doors to what looks like a huge balcony.

The Crawl? That's…wow. I quickly make my way to her and lean against the railing to look at her. She's gazing at the pool and I can see it reflected in her eyes. God, she's beautiful.

"Isn't that…dangerous?" I ask finally, confused.

Dangerous doesn't even begin to cover that place. The Crawl is a couple of miles outside of town, and definitely not worth the trip. I'd been there, once, last year. It has a biker feeling to it. Everything's dark, there are big, muscular men walking around with fierce beards, and complicated tattoos, the smell of cigarettes lingers in the air, and the men there aren't afraid to start up a fight if they think that you don't belong. Needless to say, I stayed for about five minutes before I walked on out without looking back.

Which is why it's surprising that Max would go there every weekend.

She gives a short, humorless laugh. "That's part of the fun. The risk, the probability of trouble, the chance that you could either lose all your money or get rich," she says, sounding like she's mocking me.

"You gamble?" I ask without thinking. I scoff. "Of course you do. What's the point of playing pool if you're not going to get something out of it."

"Or maybe I go for the company and the money is just a bonus," she says, smiling. She has a killer smile.

"Right," I answer. Then she faces me and grins, which inadvertently prompts me to continue speaking. "Because dealing with men who could possibly kill you is the most fun you can have in this town," I say sarcastically.

She shrugs. "It's what I like. And besides, they're not all bad."

I laugh. She's obviously joking.

"Well, now that it's established that you're a total badass," she smiles at that, "can I ask why you're up here instead of downstairs with the party?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she counters.

"There are more interesting people up here," I tell her pointedly, with a grin. Her smile falters a little. Okay, so maybe she doesn't like flirting. "And anyway, everyone's probably at the point where they can't even stand up anymore."

She's silent for a few seconds and then says, "Not many can hold their liquor well."

"And you can?"

"I've had some practice," is all she says.

"Do you like it?" I ask after a while.

"Drinking?" she asks. I nod. "I don't know," she confesses. "It doesn't taste that great, but it's fun sometimes, and it helps a lot," she adds softly.

"How does it help?" I then realize she didn't mean for me to hear when her eyes widen and she steps back a little.

"Oh, to, um…for some people it helps to come out of their shell, I guess," she says. I've never heard Max stammer before. It's…different, but I like it. So she's not always cool and collected.

"I was thinking that, too, earlier. It lets people do things they never would have done before." Like what I'm doing now, I add mentally.

"Yeah, that," she says with a sense of finality. Then she straightens up and says, "Listen, Fang, I gotta get going. There's other parties I have to attend." Then she turns and leaves before I can say something. She looks back just as she passes the doors and says, "Nice meeting you."

I stay standing where I was. "Yeah, nice meeting you," I mutter. Fuck! I was supposed to ask her out.

I hurry after her, and I see her going through the game room. She calls Nudge once I catch up to her.

"Wait," I tell her. She looks at me, surprised. It's now or never. "Do you think we can go out sometime?"

Her lips press together into a thin line and then she smiles sadly and asks, "Like a date?" sounding more like a statement than a question.

"Well, yeah, I guess," I tell her, putting my hands in my jean pockets. I've heard this is my cool pose.

She looks like she's thinking about it and then tells me, "You seem like a cool guy, Fang, but I'm not looking for that type of relationship." She smirks and then walks out. Nudge follows, looking at me with a pitiful stare.

I'm left with just an empty feeling in my chest and the realization that I just got rejected by the girl I've been pining over for the past four years.

Well, fuck.

Disclaimer: Characters are owned by James Patterson

This is my new story. If you are reading this, can you please tell me if you like Fang's POV? I'm trying it in 1st person and I feel a little awkward right now, because I'm not a guy, so yeah let me know if it sounds okay. I can't guarantee quick updates, but I'll try.