I hate being in love. I just hate it. Girls, they're so hard to understand, so hard to deal with. Max was the only one I was used to dealing with. But, after we'd stopped the apocalypse in seperate flocks, she told me she wanted to be with Dylan..and bid me farewell. After much wasted time crying [which I will admit I did too much..so much for tough], thinking about her, and wanting her back, I left my newest flock and started school in a place called Coldwater in Maine.
For the first month or so, I paid great attention in classes, turned everything in on time, was a straight-A student. I strayed away from people, especially girls [which was quite hard, with so many of them giving me up-and-downs all the time or saying hi]. I was the same old Fang I'd always been..just a little more broken and..I can't say antisocial. Because I've ALWAYS been antisocial. Still old me all the same. At lunch I ate alone, thinking about how much Max probably wasn't thinking about me, and how much she'd forget me and have a cheery old family with Dylan.
His name just made me want to wring someone's damned neck.
You're probably thinking, "hasn't anyone freaked about the wings yet?" Well, no. They haven't. because I keep them hidden beneath a sweatshirt-black, of course, to match everything else. My clothes, my hair, my eyes. All black. I was the perfect miserable loner emo kid.
Anyway, that's not what I'm telling this story about.
This story, it's about her. Nora Grey. The flawless, gray-eyed, curly-haired brunette beaut I'd hopelessly fallen for. She wasn't a mutant freak. She looked nothing like Max. Her smile and personality, all different.
Which is why I fancied her so much.
Shall I get to the story? I believe so.
I was sitting alone at lunch, losing the staring contest with my sandwich as I chewed slowly, as if I were processing my food like a machine. It was like any other day of my miserable life. Then I heard a chair squeal against the linoleum floor, pulling back. I distinctly saw a female sitting to my right, out of the corner of my eye. Pulling my eyes away from the sandwich that I had lost interest in, I took a look at her.
Brown hair that fell in soft curls around her face and shoulders. Eyes gray like slate, outlined thinly in black eyeliner and mascara making her long lashes seem even longer. She wore a white v-neck, with a black tanktop beneath it, and skinnyjeans fitted tightly against legs, longer than the Vegas strip. On her feet were rugged-looking black Converse high tops, which were tearing up. Obviously, it was time for new shoes.
She was a perfect, beautiful stranger. Her eyes smiled at me in unison with her mouth and my heart skipped a beat. [Yeah, I'm a cheesy, hopeless romantic.] "Hi," she said timidly. "I'm Nora Grey. I've noticed that you sit alone all the time and.." -she bit her lip- "I just thought that you might need a friend.." She extended her arm to me and smiled again, still not showing her teeth.
Nora Grey. Simple. And friendly. I shook her hand, smirking for the first time in a long time. "Fang. Fang.." I didn't want to say Fang Ride. So I gave myself a new last name. "Fang Evans," I said decidedly.
The stranger grinned at me, showing off her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. I grasped her hand more loosely and brought it up to my lips, kissing the back of her palm. A subtle, pink blush rose to her cheeks. "Well, aren't you a gentleman, Fang Evans?"
I smiled fakely. You really shouldn't do that just to please people, I mentally chastised myself. Oh, well. Too late now. "I try." A man of few words, I was. I wanted to keep it that way.
Nora's friendly eyes sparkled and she glanced at me up and down. She lingered at my feet. "I like your shoes.." Obviously she was admiring my black Osirises. I tilted my lips upwardly, making what must have been an awkward smile. I nodded, as if to say, Thanks. "You don't say much," she noted. "Or do you? Do you just not like me?" she looked crestfallen, hurt even, by my silence.
I frowned, saddened by the sadness that I saw in her eyes. "No, Nora. It's not you. It's me. I just don't say too much..I like watching and reading people..please don't be hurt. What's wrong?" And here we go. Fang, get ahold of yourself. You're going to let this one in too easy and she's going to crush you. I can see it now.
She looked up at me from under her long lashes, eyes glassy. How could she have been so hurt by something as simple as a quiet guy like me? Or just a guy like me in general? I was so confused. "Oh..it's alright, Fang. I just..got out of a relationship and..well, it's hurting me to say the least. I'm sensitive lately. He meant a lot to me.."
God, she looked so broken. And she was going through what I just had. Huh. Someone to relate to. "Same. Well, sort of. She's with..someone else now. And she's probably with him right now, forgetting all about me." Why was I such an idiot? I was so going to regret opening up to this girl within five minutes of meeting her. I could smell it.
"Oh..I'm sorry..well..if it makes you feel any better, uhm..Patch broke up with me because..he literally had to be with someone else..I..uhm..it's a long and dreadful story I doubt you'll want to hear. You'd probably-" she let out a short, hurt laugh- "call me crazy and never speak to me, ever again. Ohmygod, I'm opening up to a complete stranger. I'm so sorry you have to listen to me ramble on about being brokenhearted.."
This poor girl. She looked ready to cry. Great, I thought. I do so well with crying girls. "Why don't you try to tell me? Nothing compares to why Max wants some blond prettyboy who's nothing like me. So go ahead. Ramble on about this..Patch." My words sounded blunt even to my own ears. Maybe that's why she flinched, pretty eyes widening.
She opened her mouth to talk, but as she did, the bell rang, signaling that it was time to get the hell out of the cafeteria and into class. Nora looked annoyed and mumbled something under her breath that my great hearing caught as, "Damn you, bell." Quickly, she snatched a black Sharpie out of her pocket and scribbled seven numbers on my hand. As she stood up, she stuck the marker back into her pocket and said, "Call me after school and I'll fill you in..somewhat. I don't know if I can trust you yet, Fang."
And with that, she zipped out of the caf, leaving me dumbfounded with her number on one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other.
