The night he met her, he was a full-blown train wreck. His girlfriend of two years had dumped him the previous day and he was ready to forget. Newly 18 and miserable, he decided that tonight, he was going to just let go. This didn't end up working so well, because things never do for him. He was completely trashed and brokenhearted. Sidling up next to a pretty brunette from one of his classes (funny that she started this all, and now he can't even remember her name), he let himself become one wasted, hormonal mess.
"Hey, pretty lady," he slurred. Putting his arm around her, he continued to flirt horridly with her. After awhile, she gave up on humoring him and pushed him away. He refused to budge and she ended up eventually calling over her boyfriend – who had been watching them with a glare all night.
"You don't know how to speak English, loser?" The boyfriend (he can't recall his name either, so for this story, he will be known as 'the boyfriend') demanded, standing tall and really freaking muscular, "She said 'get lost'."
He sized him up and decided that he couldn't win in a fight with this guy even if he was sober. But, whatever, he was past the point of caring, anyway. He pulled himself to his feet and looked the boyfriend straight in the eyes. "And I'm saying, it's none of your fucking business, pal."
Seething, the boyfriend cracked his knuckles, "You really want to go here? Cause I'll whoop your ass." He couldn't help but laugh, "Right now, you are the worst kind of cliché. What are you gonna do next, break out your awesome moves and demand a dance off?"
Growling, the boyfriend lunged forward and punched him. He knew that it was possibility, but he didn't actually think about how much it would hurt. He fell over and stayed sprawled on the floor, unconscious, long enough for the party to move on.
Waking up in an empty house with a bleeding lip and a black eye and still not even close to sober, he stumbled out of the house and into the lawn. He tripped and lurched around for a while, but soon he got bored. He got the great idea to stop over at his old girlfriend's house. Stepping into the street, he wasn't paying attention (too busy of thinking about how awesome her haired smelled). Now, here's the exact moment that everything changed. The screeching of tires filled the air and he looked up, his eyes wide and unblinking. A bright light glared back at him, so all he saw was a flash of blue light and the outline of a motorcycle, as it roared towards him.
"Holy shit," came a silvery voice. He opened his eyes (he closed them at the last second, not wanting to see his death) and took in his surroundings. The motorcycle that could have so easily ended his life stood still barely a foot away, it's rider next to it. She took of her helmet and shook out her long hair. "You crazy asshole," she glared, putting her hand on her hip. "Haven't you heard of 'look both ways'? You could have killed us both." He was too shocked to say anything, so the girl walked closer. "Hey, I'm talking to you," she said angrily, her green eyes steely. Finally, he found his words: "I miss my girlfriend."
Well, that wasn't supposed to come out. The girl took a step back, took in his disheveled hair, bloodied face, and glassy eyes. She opened her mouth, and he cringed, expecting her to yell. What came out, though, was completely the opposite. She threw her head back and laughed. Confused, he simply stared at her. "What are you looking at me weird for?" she asked once she finished. "You're…weird," he said, still slightly confused at her change of moods. She stretched her ruby-red lips into a bitter smirk, "Of course I am; I'm a Weasley, after all."
"Huh? What's a 'Weasley'?" he asked. She shook her head, "Never mind." Rubbing his head, he watched her tie back up her blonde hair. Just as she was about to put her helmet on, she paused. Lowering it, she looked at him, head cocked to the side, face serious.
"What?" he asked, noticing for the first time that she was probably one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen. Shaking her head again, she mounted her bike. He moved out of the way to let her pass. Before she could leave, he stopped her, "Hey! Wait!" Looking at him, she waited for him continue. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pushed on, "I never got your name."
She turned back around and started the motorcycle. The roar of the engine broke the silence of the street and gave him a start. Revving it, she smiled with those ruby lips and managed to make him so star-struck that he couldn't even blink. "It's Dominique."