Never in Eddie's life would he have imagined finding someone like you here, someone like him.

You wore a leather jacket and high-heeled combat boots, as if you were ready to crush skulls with them. You laughed at the faces the cheerleaders made whenever you walked by and never lowered your head to the basketball team made up entirely of idiots.

He had to be delusional.

Simply perfect, he was metal, you were punk rock.

Of course, you ended up coincidentally bumping into each other after Eddie followed you after school, and from some small talk you got into a serious debate about the best bands right now, which ended in a tie. After that day, you spoke at least once a day, and he was slowly softening you, observing the way you responded to his flirting, the way you laughed at his jokes, the way sometimes, from afar, he'd see you looking directly at him in a crowd of students, the way you didn't even bat an eye when he rested his hand on your thigh. He's pretty sure you feel that spark when you're together, that rare connection between two souls. He'd definitely write a song about it later.

Today he was determined to kiss you, and hope you'd let him. It was past time for him to simply wipe all that plum lipstick off your lips with his mouth and show you that his hands aren't just for playing guitar or giving middle fingers to anyone who stared too much. He'd invited you to his trailer, sharing a joint and listening to real music as you sprawled out on the couch built into the wall.

You were half-lying, your legs thrown over his lap as you took a drag from the joint.

How was it possible that even when using drugs, she looked like a dark goddess?

"You seem awfully comfortable for someone who said she was just going to make a 'quick stop,' you know?" He said with a lazy smile as he took the joint when you offered it back.