It all happened out of no where. I tend to tell people I don't remember how Duncan and I met, but I remember every single word, every single gesture, everything that happened that day. He made me believe that he was just another boy hitting on me; but he ended up being so much more. I never thought I would fall so hard for someone like Duncan. I didn't think this feeling even existed in my body. It was the kind of love that makes you cry until you feel like you'd shrivel up into a raisin if you dare shed another tear. The kind of love that made you realize that there are perfect people, but they exist only in your mind. In my mind, he was perfect. No matter how many times I have tried to deny the fact that I loved him, a voice in the back of my mind always reminded me that I did. I loved him. I loved him so much.

And I don't think that will ever change.

One year earlier...

It was the day before Thanksgiving and I was stuck at work since my brainless boss decided to take a personal vacation and leave me in charge. Mr. Denzel is no doubt one of the most idiotic people I have ever met. I've only worked in this record store for three weeks and he thinks I'm capable to being in charge of his business. I mean, who does that?

The store was almost empty, since people were probably busy spending time with their families. That wasn't something I did much, considering I was an only child and my parents were one of the most successful lawyers in the state; so I never really saw them anyway. I didn't mind that I wasn't home right now because of the lack of family time, but because I was already neck deep in schoolwork and this seven hour shift was not helping at all with my time management skills.

Considering I was school valedictorian, you could say that I'm a great student (actually one of the best). But it's my senior year, and I desperately needed to leave this city. Therefore, the only way out was through a scholarship to one of the best law schools in the country.

I take a deep breath and scan the room for any lingering customers. The only ones seen were a group of teenagers that were about fifteen or sixteen years old, strolling through the aisles and freaking out about whatever record they had found in this ageless collection. There was also an older man who seemed to have around twenty records in his hands.

"Great," I thought. "More hassle for me to scan all of those."

While I was stuck in my trance of complaining and bitterness, I was interrupted by someone trying to catch my attention.

"Um, excuse me?" A little boy asked from the other side of the counter. I shook my head and looked down at him.

"Yes?"

"Do you know where the Led Zeppelin records are?"

I was surprised that this boy that only seemed around ten years old or younger even knew what Led Zeppelin was. Nowadays, it seems that children are stuck listening to that trashy pop music on the radio.

Jeez, I sound old.

"Led Zeppelin? Yeah, just look back there in the aisle that's labeled "Rock" and you should be able to find some records there." I smile at him.

"Thank you, miss!" He politely says and walks over to the records.

I nod and turn my head back down to the magazine I was reading. As I flip through the pages, I realize that I've read this magazine more than fifteen times in this very week. Mr. Denzel was right, business is slower than usual.

As time goes by, I'm curious to see how that little boy is doing. I wonder if he's all alone, and if he is, why?

All of a sudden, a boy my age comes rushing into the store panting and gasping. He puts his hands on the counter to catch his breath and runs his fingers through his floppy black hair which seems to be dyed green at the ends. He puts one hand up and I say, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah...Listen," He says between breaths, "I'm looking for a kid about this tall, black hair, wearing a red shirt and jeans, have you seen 'im?"

I quickly remind myself about the boy looking for the Led Zeppelin records and I nod, "Yes, he came in here and I think he's still here. Check that section over there," I point to the section that I directed the small boy to and the green haired teenager nods and speed walks to the Rock section of the store.

As I start to read the boring magazine again, I take a sip of coffee out of my thermos and clear my throat. I hear the boy talking again.

"But I was just trying to get you a birthday present, why can't I stay?" He whines.

"Because Mom is losing her damn mind and is on my case for not keeping an eye on you. Don't do that again, alright Sam?" The teen sighs and slightly pushes Sam in front of him.

"Now go to Mom and make sure you explain why I'm not the bad guy here."

Sam rolls his eyes and lugs himself to the door, pulling it open. He sprints across the street until he's out of sight.

"Hey," the stranger says, "Thanks again."

I nod my head and force a smile. The boy's face was filled with piercings and he was dressed in a black hoodie with very baggy jeans. His hair was somewhat long at the top and locks of his almost green hair fell at his face onto his forehead. He wasn't the type of people that I usually associated with.

"No problem." I look down and expect him to leave out the door that Sam had left out of.

He walks towards me and looks at the magazine, "You really believe all the shit in those tabloids?"

I look up and scoff, "Of course not. There just isn't many things to do in here and reading is one of my first resorts. Even if I don't believe a word this says."

"Smart girl." He smirks and shakes his head as he picks up the magazine and reads the gossip on the cover.

His face is awfully familiar, and I feel like I have definitely seen him somewhere before.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I ask.

He chuckles and replies, "You might see me at school from time to time. You're Courtney Garcia right?"

"Yeah...You go to Hillshire? How come I rarely see you?"

"Obviously, and I dunno, you don't seem like my type of people and we don't really mix. Just the way it is. Plus, I'm in your Physics class, I'm Duncan." He grins.

"What do you mean 'my type of people'?" I took this to offense.

Duncan squints his eyes and rolls them afterwards, "You and all your friends are all preppy do gooders with rich parents. Gets everything fed to them, and they never do anything wrong. I don't really get along with people like you."

My cheeks redden as I start to get angry. How dare he stereotype me like that without any knowledge of who I actually am? I'm hard working, and I do not get everything the way I want them to go.

"You don't even know me, why do you just assume I'm like that?" I start to raise

my voice and furrow my eyebrows.

"Let me think about it while you carry on drinking that soy latte and drive home in your Mercedes-Benz after this. Happy Thanksgiving, baby doll." Duncan winks and laughs hysterically as he pushes the store door open, leaving me there gawking at him.

"Asshole. It's coffee, not a soy latte." I murmur to myself. This is going to be a long shift.