It took a while, but I finally finish. Like I promise here is the new and improve version of Apartment Balcony, which will now be called My Apartment, Your Balcony. This is the longest chapter/prologue I've after type, and it took a lot longer than it should have. If you would like to read the old prologue there is a link on my profile.
I blame my laziness.
Italics = thinking
Warning Novice Literature
0o0o
Prologue
Conversations
"You and me could write a bad romance."
-Lady Gaga-
0o0o
It was another average Saturday morning in the City of Quahog.
Well, not exactly average.
There was no commotion or hell breaking loose or even one of Peter Griffins daily antics going on. This was indeed a strange and peaceful scenario, being very unusual for the uproarious residents that lived on Spooner Street.
Yet beside the strangeness of it all, it was still a beautiful sunny morning. Not a sign in the sky that it would be raining or having any bad weather any time soon. The sky (which was indeed a wonderful sight) took on a very deep rich blue with a mixture of yellow and orange that came from the bright blazing sun. Pure white fluffy clouds could not help but to decorate themselves among the peaceful scenery giving the sky its final touches. The mood for this once in a lifetime morning was filled with nothing but positivity and happiness.
Yet, it could do nothing for Meg Griffins foul mood.
Which was annoyed, completely and utterly annoyed. And the source of that annoyance had her pin rather inappropriately on the bright red front door to her family's house.
Cursing silently to herself, Meg glared into the mocking eyes of her captive. How the hell did she end up in this embarrassing predicament?
Right before the embarrassing predicament;
Like any other weekend Meg was out getting mail for her dysfunctional family (said family was being rather quiet that morning). Not much mail had been delivered; some bills, advertisements, coupons for her mother, etc., nothing that drew in a teenager's attention. Neatly stacking the mail in her petite hands the misunderstood teen started on her way back to her house. Already planning the day in her head, deciding as soon as she went into the house she would drop the mail off in the living room, and head up to her room for her usual solitude.
At the age of 18 (and a senior in high school) Meg Griffin was nothing particularly special. She was average in height; looks, and chubbier than most. She did have some intelligence especially math, but who cared about that. Nothing at all about her stood out, because no one really took the time to see her, and she never really took the time to make anyone see her. Not saying that Meg wouldn't think it would be nice to be notice, to be called pretty, to be called beautiful.
It would really be nice, no, it would just be wonderful to hears those words directed at her.
But those types of things just don't happen to people like Meg; the geeky girl, the loner, the outcast. Forever doomed to never be noticeable. Or at least that's what she thinks, though she does have good reasons to believe so.
Now walking up the front door stairs, Meg place her hand on the door knob of her all too bright door. As she started to turn the golden knob her-
"Megan."
Her back stiffen and she immediately felt a vicious chill. That voice.
Such a deep, cold, and hateful voice.
She pauses right in front the door; her hand tightly clutching the doorknob. Her heart was starting to pound loudly in her ears. That voice, that voice that will forever be engraved into her mind, was calling out to her yet again. It was a deep masculine voice; clean and clear, harsh and hateful. His voice held so much emotion, yet it held none at all.
His voice reminded her of the color black.
How she come to hate the sound of his voice. She felt so inferior to him, so belittled, so worthless. He was like some cliché Greek God, while she was the pathetic peasant force to stand there and be reminded how she will never amount to anything but a mere peasant.
Meg desperately wanted to ignore the voice and go into the safety of her house. She would rather have to deal with her family's usual degradation of her, than stay out here with him. She quickly thought over her choices in dealing with the situation.
She could ignore him, slam the front door in his face, and run to her room in hiding for the rest of her life.
Or
She could stay, argue a little, and maybe slap him. Showing him he holds no power over her or anyone else.
She silently sighed to herself.
One wouldn't work because he would barge into her house, her room, and would not leave until he was finish with his business. No matter how much she may holler and scream at him (no way in hell her family would come to the rescue, Brian might but Meg wouldn't hold her breath). Two would have an even worst outcome, because Meg was almost positive he would hit a female if provoke. Frowning she decided one was her best option. With her back turn to him, she readied herself to dash into her house.
'One, two-!'
She was suddenly facing him.
Annoyed with not being acknowledge with a quick response; he had yank Meg by her upper arm, and force her to turn around and face him. Meg looks at him with wide eyes rimming with amazement and slight fear.
Yet again he man handled her without a second thought. Yet again he forces her into a position without giving a rat's ass how she would feel about it.
Yet again he left her completely piss.
"Meg-"
"I heard you the first time."
She rudely cut him off glaring at him with hate and malice. She tried to yank her arm from his grip. He narrowed his eyes, and then tightens his hold on her arm painfully; making sure that she understood that the only reason she was going to be let go was because he allowed it. After releasing her, he places his hand into his expensive jean pockets.
Meg rubbed gently on her upper arm, already feeling a bruise forming. Ignoring the slight pain, she stared into his icy gaze. Getting an idea, Meg started to smile widely, and spoke with all the kindness she could muster (which was really hard to do at the moment), and she sweetly continued her greeting,
"And what can I do for you, Mr. Quagmire?"
He smirks amusingly down at her 5'4 full frame. Stepping on one of the stairs in front of her, he easily towers' over her with his 6'3 frame. His shadow covering her entire body, and Meg could feel the danger emitting from him, she could feel the emotion he was forcing onto her.
Fear.
It was an emotion that Meg was familiar with. An emotion she knew very well, and every time she felt his presence that emotion would never fail to make itself known.
She is indeed afraid of him.
But neither he nor anyone else would ever know that, Meg would rather die, die then admit that horrible truth.
'His ego was already the size if the sun.'
In a way he was like his miserable excuse for a father, but then again he's nothing like him.
'Bastards the both of them. They bring nothing but unhappiness and misery to women.'
Meg glance up at the man that accompanied her thoughts, she watch his face closely looking for a reaction to her comment. She was testing boiling waters, by making such a comment so carelessly, but she didn't give a damn.
'He deserved it.'
He smirks amusingly at her, he was a bit impress that she would go so far to tick him off -he narrowed his eyes- to piss him off.
Meg look into his eyes and she almost regret coming out of her room this morning, all she saw in his barely controlled fiery rage.
Meg looks down at her green fuzzy slippers in fear of his gaze, what a coward she was. Meg glared harshly at her slippers.
'Standing up to him should not be a problem.'
'Standing up for myself should not be a problem!'
Meg thought back to her early years in high school; she remembered how bad she wanted to fit in with everyone how bad she wanted to belong, she remembers the girl who was and still is the source of her torment.
Connie Domingo.
She was everything Meg wanted to be, everything Meg tried desperately to be.
Connie's pretty, she's popular, she has money, she has a nice skinny body, and most importantly…she has friends. No matter how superficial or fake those friends were, she still has them.
So Meg always wondered why the girl had it out for her.
Why did Connie Domingo hate Meg Griffin?
Meg always used to worship the ground Connie walked on. She did everything she thought she could that would impress Connie, that would get her on Connie's good side, but nothing -as expected- worked. Connie still hated her, and she got everybody to hate Meg to.
That didn't stop Meg from trying though; it used to only make her want to be her friend even more. To prove that nothing would stand in her way, she felt as if Connie was somehow testing her, seeing if she was good enough to be friends with someone as popular as her.
God was she naïve, but it was going to be worth it.
The bullying, the teasing, the occasional hitting, it was all going to be worth it, right?
No.
Cause one day Connie took her usual petty bullying to whole new level and Meg was having a mental meltdown. Long story short, in the end Meg ended up giving Connie an extreme makeover.
With her fist.
Everything happened too fast. The main thing Meg remembered was blood, lots of blood.
When she came to her family were going on about how the Domingo family were suing them for their 'precious little angel's' injuries to her –oh so- 'perfect face'. How she would need plastic surgery just to look 'normal' again.
Meg remembered not giving a shit.
She was suspended for a week –which was expected-, and she was never allowed to approach Connie Domingo again. Which was fine by her, after what Connie did Meg wasn't so sure she would just stop at messing up her face.
People avoided her after that.
Everyone stayed a good distance away from her. The bullying and teasing never stopped, but they made sure to keep it -for the most part- verbal. Whispering things about her loud enough for her to hear, and making statements in class that would get everyone laughing at her.
They knew she wouldn't try to pull anything after the indecent with Connie in fear of being expelled, but they still never took the chance to do anything to her, right in front of her.
Even her so called loser 'friends' didn't go by her anymore, but it was only a matter of time before they started to avoid her. So she wasn't all that surprise by it.
It hurt, it hurt a lot.
Meg went from unofficially to officially being the loser outcast of James Wood High.
It hurts to be completely alone, but you get used to it and after a while that's all you know how to be.
Alone.
But she was stronger for it! Being a loner, an outcast, a loser it made her stronger!
So standing up to him was not a problem. He's no different than Connie Domingo; he's no different than those asshole classmates of hers who constantly bullied her. He's no different.
But he was.
She knew that, he knew that, they both knew that, and because of this she was always hesitant when talking back or giving him a piece of her mind, because his words would always hurt her more.
But despite all that, she would talk back. Some called her brave; some called her stupid, most would call her both, and sometimes Meg would have to agree.
But in her defense, he deserves it.
Most of the time it never does her any good in giving him a piece of her mind, but it lets him know she is not one of those girls or boys who will fall to his feet and kiss the ground he walks on. She will not be bending over and kissing his perfectly shape ass.
No.
Meg won't take his confusing bullshit without a heated fight.
He was six years her senior at the age of 24, and already owns a multi. billionaire business that was pass down to him by his father who mysteriously died. He's apparently a genius, the next Albert Einstein people say.
Meg mentally rolled her eyes at that.
He always demanded the upmost respect from anyone. Young, old, he could care less, even babies, glaring until they shit or piss themselves.
'Really now, what type of bastard does that!'
There was something scary about him, something…ominous.
Meg was at least willing to admit that to herself.
It was hard to ignore him or not notice him whenever he would walk in a room.
His…there was just something about him that demand your attention, something so cold and so hateful, that you couldn't look away.
Even though you desperately wanted to.
Sometimes if Meg looks close enough at him, -if she looks real hard- she could see a dark aura of despair surrounding his entire being. But she easily shakes that off as her being really, really paranoid.
Meg is pulled out of her thoughts when she sees his feet move up another step. His expensive leather business shoes, reminds her that this man is made of money. She watch his shoes glisten without sunlight, Meg's green fuzzy slippers look so cheaply made next to his shoes.
She glances up at him looking into his ice blue eyes through her messy bangs. Meg watch as the light breeze move pieces of his jet black hair slightly covering his eyes. She watches his eyes as they shift from emotion to emotion.
His eyes were so hauntingly beautiful.
Blue really was her favorite color, and he would have the best shade of blue as his eye color. "Nothing but the best for him." Meg thought bitterly. Meg always wanted blue eyes.
Keeping eye contact with her, he move closer to her, and force Meg up against the door to her house.
The door was cold on her spaghetti strap covered back, and it sent a shiver up her spine. She sent a questioning look his way, and squeak.
He was at face level with her, his eyes boring into hers. Another shiver ran up and down her back, harder than the last one. Meg tried with all her might to stop it, but her face grew hot with an intense blush.
"Dammit." She thought frowning.
His glare never lessened, but he smirk satisfied with affect he had on her body. While she curses herself for her bodies' betrayal, it wouldn't be the first the time this has happen. Can anything go right for her?
Meg fully faces his smug glaring features and narrowed her eyes, and she glared hard. Her full dark brown brows furrowing together, and her emerald green eyes growing darker with her mood. Her natural red lips pulled into a deeper frown, Meg's bottom lip sticking out more than her top one.
Meg felt so angry, that she could cry and beat the crap out of him at the same time. All these feeling he force on her, after she tried so hard to forget about them.
She wasn't succeeding, but that was beside the point, and he being here sure as hell wasn't helping her.
"Why is he even here!"
Her bottom lip started to tremble in distress andshe look at him as if her eyes were asking him the same question she was asking herself.
Why are you even here!
His glare loosens at the look on her face. Because he knew that he was the main reason for the latest troubles in her already mess up life. He knew he made it worse by being here but…
His eyes turn a deeper shade of blue instead of his usual icy shade. Emotion's he still was not used to feeling starting to run through him, and the young girl in front of him lost her glare at his somewhat longing look. She didn't know how to respond to that, her not having much pleasant experiences with the opposite sex before –him no exception-,
She was confused at his look.
"Why is he looking at me like that? Is there something on my face! Oh. My. God. There is something on my freaking face! I'm already NOT hot. Why must there be something on my face? But I swear I wash my face before I left the house. Dammit! I don't feel anything though. Well it's not as if I care what that bastard thinks! …But still, is there something on my face!" Meg thought desperately.
He took notice of her obvious distress, but ignores it, it not being his top priority at the moment. The only thing that was on his mind was Meg's trembling bottom red lip.
The poor girls stomach was doing almost painful flips, and there was the strong feeling she getting in between her full figures thighs.
"This is just pathetic!" she thought her face flushing "Why does my body have to react so obviously to him? It's not fair!" –she glares down at her body in anger- "I should just have 'horny' tattooed on my forehead."
With that thought Meg could hear her mother in the distant somewhere saying
"Now Meg, you know how I feel about tattoos."
She could almost giggle if it wasn't for her current issue.
Meg senses his movement, and she look up. Her eyes widen just a bit. He had his head cocked to the side in a curious fashion as if he was thinking. She saw his large hand reach out towards her, and as she force herself closer to the door behind her, she wondered what he was going to do.
She stares intently as his long fingers approach her. She shuts her eyes tightly, almost painfully, turning her head away baring her slender neck to him. His fingers lightly brush pass her cheek and she shivered harshly. Yet all he did was simply place his hand next to her head on the door.
He looks at her intently, loving the submissive expression on her face.
The intense blush on her face went from her pinch-able cheeks down to her neck. Her eyes were shut tightly blocking him from those emerald greens eyes he has become so used to.
Emerald green eyes with reluctance he admittedly misses on occasion.
But, god were they beautiful eyes.
He notices her thighs where squirming and rubbing together, making those polka dotted shorts rise up ever so slightly. He smirks at the effect he had on the tiny girl in front of him.
The best part about this, she was cornered, and there was no where she could run from him.
Their chests only a breath away from each other.
His pants were becoming a little too tight and though he never minded becoming hard –what man would- he didn't like stiffening so quickly.
This girl just didn't know what she did to him. He almost wanted to strangle her, no woman let alone a girl should have this effect on him. Yet this underage girl did. He could almost laugh.
Almost.
He heard her start to make little noise out of frustration, confusion, and probably what he suspect fear.
He couldn't help the deep growl that erupted from his throat, hearing her mewing had him almost forgetting they were out in public in broad daylight.
The things he wanted to do to her.
If anyone would walk pass them, they could mistake him of trying to rape her. In a way –he chuckled darkly- he kind of was.
Upon hearing his dark chuckle she opens her eyes and felt the sickening feeling of falling backwards.
0o0o
I want to thank my two best friends for helping me complete this, without you guys this would have suck.
The prologue is set in later in the story, so don't be confuse when chapter one starts because that will be the beginning.
I hope you enjoy, chapter one is almost done (I already have it plan out, just got to type it out).
I'm a whore when it comes to reviews, so please take the time to review the story. Click that review button!
