In grade 9, they both made it into the school's gifted program. David wasn't surprised. Rose could solve word problems and find patterns faster than anyone he'd ever seen, and he was exceptionally good with science. The other students called them freaks, but it didn't matter. They had each other.
"Why don't you ask her out already?" Donna asked curiously, plucking a crisp from his bag. Realizing that he was staring at a certain blonde, David cleared his throat and looked at the red haired woman in front of him.
"I beg your pardon?" he squeaked. Okay, so maybe he had a tiny crush on Rose. It was hard not to. He liked the way her tongue poked between her teeth when she smiled, and the vanilla scent of her hair, and her sparkly hazel eyes, and-
Okay. So maybe he had a big crush. It wasn't obvious or anything.
"Don't get clever with me. I see the way you look at her, mister. You hang on to every word she says," Donna points out.
Okay. So maybe it was obvious.
"Rose is my best friend. I could never jeopardize that."
"So you admit you like her."
David swore under his breath.
"Donna, I didn't say that! Oh my god, stop looking at me like that," he hides his burning cheeks from the snickering girl.
"The two of you are meant for each other, you know. Socially adept as mud, but smarter than any 14 year olds I've ever met," Donna says, waving her hand flippantly.
"Mickey likes her," he scowls.
"Mickey? That wouldn't last. He's a good guy, but he's fuelled by sex and Rose isn't very..." she trails off.
David knew that Rose was a virgin. Mickey was the first boy she'd ever shown any romantic interest in, and she was still really awkward about it.
"You'll have to swoop in fast, spaceman. Rose is like, hot stuff. If I played for the other team, I'd be all over her. I heard that John Master has a thing for her. He's cute," Donna gossips.
David blanches. "He's a slimy toad. Rose would never date him." And he knew it. John was into drugs and alcohol, and Rose was too smart for that. Plus, he was a dick that had hit her back in seventh grade and bullied her ever since.
"But he's a year older. Us girls like that sort of thing. And besides, he's popular," she chirps.
"Rose doesn't want more friends. She's got me, you, Martha and Mickey. She doesn't care about that," he says, leaning against the wall and running his tan hands through his messy hair.
"God, I know it. I tried to convince her to come to a party the other night, and you know what she said? She was too busy watching government conspiracy documentaries. Can you believe it?"
"I can, actually. She made me watch them too," he grins to himself, reminiscing about how she had curled into his side and let him wrap his arms around her. They had fallen asleep on her bed with her head on his chest.
"You're so in love it makes me sick."
...
"Hey Rosie, how about a date? You, me, this Saturday? I bet that mouth of yours is good at more than just blabbing about maths," John catcalls at her.
"I'll punch him in the throat," David growls in her ear, putting a protective arm around her shoulders and scowling at the laughing group of boys across the room.
"Ignore him. He's a good for nothing pervert," she whispers back, leaning into his side. He kisses the top of her head and she flips the page of the book she's reading.
"What book is that again?" he inquires, looking over her shoulder.
"A Tale of Two Cities. It's been a while since I've read it."
"Ah. Good old Charles Dickens. Did you know that he didn't have a formal education? He went to work for a factory," he blabbed.
Rose made a noise of agreement. "Most geniuses didn't. He did keep a formal journal, though," she gave him a signature tongue touched grin that made his stomach flutter annoyingly.
The rest of the day was uneventful. They split off from Mickey and Donna (who gave him a knowing look over her shoulder when he took Rose's hand), and Martha joined the two of them on their way to AP Chemistry.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:
"So... um David, would you want to go see a movie on Friday?" Martha asks him timidly.
"Sure, let me see if Rose wants to come-"
"No, actually, I was more thinking that we should go... on our own," she ground out.
His eyes widened. "Oh. Like a date. Oh. Okay," he said in thought.
Her face brightened up. "Cool! I'll text you about the details," she smiled endearingly at him and ran off in the other direction, blushing.
As soon as he gathered up his wits, he realized what just happened. "No! Martha, I didn't-" she couldn't hear him. Letting out a sigh, he packed up his books. One date couldn't hurt, especially if he let her know after that he just wanted to be friends. Martha was understanding, she would get it.
"What was that about?" Rose asked with a raised eyebrow, slipping her backpack over her shoulder and stepping in line beside him.
"I think I'm going on a date with Martha," he gasped out in astonishment.
"Really? Cool." While he was staring ahead trying to comprehend what happened, he didn't notice the hurt look on Rose's face and how she didn't take his hand as they started walking home.
"So Martha then? She's nice and pretty, and a good mate," she conversed.
"Yeah, I suppose," he answered shortly, and they walked in mostly silence for the rest of the way.
"So are you still coming to my house, Rosie?" he asks when they stop at the corner that leads to his home.
"Actually, I'm feeling kind if sick," she says disappointedly.
"Are you okay?" he prods worriedly, reaching out to touch her face and frowning when she pulls back.
"Yeah, fine. I'm just gonna go," she says softly.
"Okay. See you Sunday, then?"
"Better make it Monday," she calls over her shoulder, and he's too busy fretting over Martha to pay attention to the choked strain of her voice, or the tears that start flowing down her cheeks, or the run she breaks into halfway down the hill.
A/N: I just want to point out that Martha IS NOT the antagonist in this story. I rather like Martha.
On another note, as I mentioned before, this story's rating is MATURE and will contain dark material, adult themes and coarse language later on.
