Part 6—You're Staring Again

It was the first day of December, a Monday. April Taylor came to school feeling sicker than she ever had. On top of the previous night's three bottles of beer, four trips to vomit in the toilet, and screaming fight with her parents, it was a Monday.

Her parents had been incredibly tolerant of her parties on weekends when they weren't around, until they remembered they weren't the greatest about locking up their beers, and neither were her friends' parents. Several parents had called about the breathalyzer test results the night after she'd thrown the one that got crashed by the cops, and the conflagration that ensued had been intense. However, her parents were relatively lenient; all she had to do was stop throwing parties, and she was grounded. Yesterday, however, they'd caught her drinking again, and at the encouragement of April's do-gooder school counselor threw the beer away and tried to give her a Stern Lecture. April had lost it and it had escalated into a roaring, screaming fit, ending in the girl throwing up at her mother's feet. Now April was at school, and sure to have the most hellish day of her life.

No, wait, she wasn't. Roger Davis had rounded the corner. The one, the only, Roger Davis.

April had never been sure why he didn't have more friends; he was hot, he played guitar and sang. He should have fucking groupies, for God's sake. She'd asked him a few times to sit with her group, but he'd always said no, he preferred to sit with Mark. Then he would look at her—pityingly? Disgustedly? April could never figure out what those eyes were telling her. And he had such amazing eyes. Once in awhile he would look up from what he was doing, those eyes lifting into the floppy bits of hair that fell in that incredibly sexy way and giving him a soulful look that made April want to rip his pants off right there…Whoa, April. Calm down. You are too sick to be horny.

What made April feel the worst were the times when she found herself jealous of Mark. He was such a sweet, nerdy little guy. Their mothers became friends after the Taylors moved to Scarsdale, so April had been fobbed off on the Cohens' parties many times. Mark always seemed as bored by his mother's extravagant suburban get-togethers as April was, so the two talked a lot, and April was always surprised by how nice he was. He and Roger were different as night and day, not that Roger wasn't a nice guy—only in a different way. But she could definitely see how they had sparked such an intense friendship. Sometimes when she saw them squatting in the hallway together at lunch as she walked past for the third time in hopes Roger would see her, she couldn't help feeling that prickling sense of jealousy. She'd wished to be Mark, whose only friend was Roger, but who, unlike April, who had so many friends, had a friend who was true. And the fact that it was Roger Davis didn't hurt.

So here she was, staring at Roger as usual. The boy could look hot in a gray hoodie sweatshirt. Was there anything he couldn't look hot in? April looked like shit; she hadn't had time to put her makeup on that morning, and her eyes were red and puffy.

Oh God. Roger had opened his mouth. He was going to talk to her.

"Um, hey, April." He sounded uncertain.

"Hi, Roger," April said as pleasantly as she could manage.

"Are you…okay?"

"Yeah, I…I'm good."

"Listen…" He did a small double take. "I've gotta talk to you. Can I meet you sometime?"

"At your house?" April was nonplussed.

Roger looked indescribably painful for a second, but then shook his head and regained control of himself. "Well, I'm technically staying with Mark for now. Could you meet me after school outside the building? We can walk to the park or something."

"Sure…I guess I could do that…"

"Okay…um…good." Roger took a step back, then turned and left.

What. The fuck. Just happened to me? thought April. Roger, the guy she'd liked since they were sophomores, had just asked her to go to the park and "talk" about something. It could only be described as weird. She watched his retreating, hot-gray-hooded-sweatshirt-clothed back, and smiled a tiny bit.

Then she ducked into the girls' bathroom to throw up again.

Having refrained from throwing up for the rest of the day, April stood outside the school building, shivering a little in the early December cold. She tapped her foot and looked around for Roger, again. Finally she spotted him and waved. He walked quickly over to her.

"Hey, Rog!" she heard Mark call.

"I'll meet you later!" Roger shouted back.Mark shrugged and got on his bike, kicking his kickstand up, and pedaled away, his scarf flapping behind him in the crisp air.

Roger turned back to April. "Hi."

"Hi."

"You're shivering…" He took off his sweatshirt and offered it to her. He had a dark green T-shirt on under it.

"No…no, Roger, you have short sleeves on."

"Suit yourself then, I guess."

The two walked silently to the park and sat on a bench. They sat facing forward, not looking at each other, before Roger sighed, his breath freezing in the air before him. April looked over at him.

"April…" Roger didn't know where to start. "That night…it's been on my mind for awhile."

"What?"

"The party. You called me at Mark's, and we went over, and…shit happened, and the cops came."

April closed her eyes and remembered the night. She'd been stone drunk and couldn't remember much. Yes, Roger had been there, hadn't he? She'd called him?

"Yeah, I…remember."

"How…how much do you remember exactly?"

"Hardly anything. Why?"

Roger shook his head and opened his mouth. It was as though he couldn't figure out which words he needed to put together. "Josie…got us into a dare game…and she dared me to…to…" He stopped.

"To what?"

Roger turned a brilliant red, nose to ears to chin. "She dared me to kiss you."

Despite the weather and her lack of a coat, April suddenly felt very warm. "And…?"

"I did." He was matter-of-fact for the first time in this bizarre conversation.

April could barely breathe. "You did?"

"I did. And…it went on."

Dammit, April, how can you not remember this?

"So here's the thing that's bugging me." He took a deep breath. "I could've told Josie to shove it, but I didn't. I kissed you. You were drunk, and I knew you weren't thinking straight, and I kissed you."

"We can all do things we…regret, Roger…"

"That's exactly what's bugging me." For the first time, he looked her straight in the eyes. April loved those eyes. "I'm not sure I regretted it." He stopped, trying so hard to put the right words together. "If it were you…no. If it were me who was drunk that night…and Josie had dared you to kiss me…would you have?"

April looked at her lap. She opened her mouth but couldn't speak.

"April?" He put a finger under her chin and tilted it gently upward to face him again, but April almost couldn't bear those eyes.

"I don't know what I think."

"You don't need to think," Roger said—was he irritated? "You need to feel."

"I…I don't even know…how I feel." April's lip quivered and a tear spilled out of each eye. Roger wiped them away with his fingers. "What did you want me to say?" She looked back up at him. "What were you expecting me to say?" She suddenly felt angry. At herself, even at him, though it wasn't his fault; somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it wasn't either of their faults. Well, more hers than his, definitely. She stood up and turned to leave the park.

"April, wait!"

"What?" she screamed. A lady walking her dog gave her a glare, but April didn't care.

"Don't go."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because…" Roger had leapt from the bench and followed her. April turned to go, but Roger grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me!"

"April…look at me, just for a second…" Roger was pleading. April couldn't refuse. She turned to him.

He put a hand behind her neck, leaned gently to her and pressed his lips to hers.

April closed her eyes and surrendered immediately. She became lost in his kiss. She pressed herself to him, feeling his warmth. She parted her lips a little to let his tongue in. She pushed him toward the bench, and they ignored the chill of the metal to sit as they kissed. April wrapped her legs around him, and Roger put his arms on her back.

Roger broke the kiss to gasp "Oh, God, this is a million times better than last time…" He planted kisses on her neck as April giggled.

"Mm, and I'll remember this one...now shut up, we're talking too much…" Their lips found each other's again.

Roger Davis and April Taylor didn't care about the cold. They sat on the bench in the park in Scarsdale for hours, each living out their secret fantasies. They didn't notice the lady with the dog, as she turned and pass them again, roll her eyes and heave an enormous sigh. They didn't notice the awed five-year-old girl who stood silently and watched them for a full ten minutes. They didn't notice that the world spun, that a pale sun cast a long shadow on the barren trees. They had no thought for anyone but each other; none for Mark, who would wait until dark and hear no word of his friend, for April's parents, who had technically grounded her, for the Cohens or Mrs. Davis. No, they only saw each other. They didn't notice anything else.

They didn't even notice, until after they had finally broke apart gasping, never letting go of one another's hands, that it had begun to snow.

I have never written a romance before, so please tell me how I did. Next will be the uber-dramatic and sad Angel chapter. Then I want a holiday chapter, so I'll be working myself very hard to get these out in time. Enjoy and thanks for those who have already reviewed (please review me!)