Aragh, I'm sorryyyyyy. I've got like...six stories going now, or something. But I reallllyyy can't help it. I luuuurve this story so much.

Summary: Modern day Romeo and Juliet story, minus the tragic death ending. BBxRae, probably RobxStar and KFxJinx. Cy...I'll think about it.


I really should just turn my head away, right now. It could be so easy, just to direct my gaze to someone else…like Victor's talk of the latest football scores, or Richard's everlasting rambling on some girl at school he'd seen…

But no, I can't bear to look away. She's beautiful, with porcelain skin and dark, almost violet, hair and amethyst eyes. Sitting there with that bored look on her face, eyes rolling as her friend chatted on. Her friend was not unattractive either, a tall redhead with bright green eyes, but she wasn't the one I couldn't stop staring at.

I'd seen her around school before, maybe once or twice, but she'd never appealed to me this much before. The light was hitting her face at just the right angle, her arms drawn in her lap and foot tucked under her ankle in a proper fashion.

But she is off limits.

You see, my name is Garfield Logan; I'm in my senior year in high school, and son of one of the nicest men you'll meet in any lifetime. Unless you're Trigon Roth, that is. If you're Trigon Roth, my father is an insect on the windshield waiting to be squished.

My father is a scientist, actually, my mother is one too, but in a different field, and is currently working on something that has to do with saving the world, ending world hunger, all that kind of hippie stuff. Trigon Roth, on the other hand, is the rudest, cruelest, and possibly the meanest man on the face of the planet who doesn't give a damn about anyone else in the world, unless they're someone he can make a profit off of.

My father, Mark Logan, has been fighting Trigon since before I can remember. It started out with animal testing way back in the eighties, and the fights haven't stopped since.

And that girl, sitting across the room, the one I can't stop staring at, is his daughter.

Rachel Roth is the kind of person you'd see me staying far, far away from, even without our family differences. She likes black, poetry, and dark eyeliner. She's quiet, reclusive, and has maybe one or two friends in the school. I, on the other hand, wear mostly green to match my eyes, can't stand to read, I guess I'm popular; I have the attention span of a monkey, and probably the common sense of one.

I'm what you'd call the comedian. I tell jokes; I like to make people laugh. I've had my share of girlfriends, none of which have turned out so well, and I've got a great group of friends. Victor, the all-star football man on campus, Richard, the studious and serious karate master, and Wally, a fun-loving kid whose mouth talks about as fast as he runs. We have that in common, I guess. Well, not the running thing. I'm a soccer player; not a track star.

Where was I? Oh, right, friends.

If you've ever been to my school, JHS, which stands for Jump High School, you'd probably be amazed about how diverse we are. For every type of clique, we have it. For every type of club, we have it. For every type of student, we have them.

Not only that, we have a student population of probably six hundred kids per grade, half of which are female. And out of those three hundred female students, I had to be staring at her.

I don't want to sound cocky, but I could have probably any girl I wanted. Anyone of my friends could, really. We're what keeps this school in sports championships, what determines how cool you are, and probably what college you'll get into.

But no, I have to have my eye on her.

I don't really get this attraction I'm feeling. I mean, we're halfway into my senior year, my last year of high school, I don't have the greatest grades but ones enough to get into Stanford, which by the way, is the school I'm going to, and I just got out of a relationship with a long term girlfriend, Tara. We've been kind of rocky for the past months, since last summer, but we've only just broke it off.

Don't get me wrong, Tara's a great girl. She's pretty, spunky, happy, the kind of girl you'd see me with. But she kept secrets from me, and that's something I can't stand. Did I get off subject again? What did I say, attention span is zilch.

As I was saying, I'm going to Stanford in a few months and a pretty set future for me. And just all of a sudden, Rachel Roth is the object of my affection. Well, I wouldn't say that much, but I'm looking at my watch now, and I've been leaning against the wall, pretending to listen to Vic and Rich, but really just watching her, for about forty-five minutes now. Do I sound like a stalker or what?

Shit, she just caught me looking at her.

---

"He was very handsome, did I add?" Kori asked mostly to herself than anyone, sighing dreamily.

I'm fighting the urge to roll my eyes again, for perhaps the twentieth time, and I've got to say it's a tough urge to fight.

For the past hour or so, Kori has been talking nonstop about a boy she saw in school. I'm surprised she only now noticed him; she's been here for almost a month already. He's the kind of boy who's hard to miss.

I'd gathered after the first ten minutes that she was talking about Richard Grayson. I can't say I blame her for having a crush on him; a lot of girls do. If you like the mysterious, cool, I'm-so-awesome-I'll-wear-sunglasses-in-class type, that is.

He and all his friends are the object of most of the female student body's affection.

They aren't the all-brawn-no-brain football jocks that rank pretty high on the popularity scale, no; they have to be the worst kind of popular. They have to be the nice, compassionate kind of popular. You know, the kind of kids who are so nice and cool about everything you just want to hate them, but you can't bring yourself to it?

There's Victor Stone; the lovable teddy bear with a big-brother type disposition. I've witnessed him be friendly-rude to his friends, but that's the meanest I've ever seen him. If he has his demons, he hides them well. Richard Grayson of course, adoptive son of the reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne, and somewhat of a hot-head, smart, deductive, and as I'd heard several cheerleaders say: drop dead gorgeous. I suppose that goes to show how shallow our school is.

Then there's Wally West, a slim boy with bright orange hair and a fast mouth and fast legs. Somewhat cocky and playful, that boy just refuses to grow up at times. Speaking of refusing to grow up, that brings me to Gar Logan.

He's not exceedingly hunky like Richard, but to say he's ugly would be way off. He's got sort of boyish looks, with a somewhat scrawny figure, tan-olive skin, sandy blond hair, and the greenest of green eyes you'll ever see. I swear, look too long in them and you'll think you'll be seeing a forest. He was always on the shorter side, but he'd had a growth spurt in the past few years and was finally at a normal height. This meant, of course, that he was taller than me.

I've had my times where I've found myself staring at the back of his head in class or watching him laugh with his friends across the cafeteria, but I knew better than to speak at him. My father is a corporate, which means I've had a pretty comfortable lifestyle, me and my mother.

But he's also distant, with the fake-loving attitude that's made me the cold girl I am today. I know he's killed people before; anyone who got in his way. He and Gar Logan's father have been at it for years, when it started with a campaign against one of my father's companies that was animal testing. He's considered "getting rid of" that ant on the picnic basket, as he'd said so kindly, but he knew all blame would be shifted to him, and that might unearth some of the other "problems" he'd "taken care of".

Needless to say, staying away from Garfield Logan was a lesson I learned growing up. I can feel him watching me, those evergreen eyes gazing over in our direction. My face is bright red, I'm sure. Although now that I think about it, he's probably looking at Kori; most boys do. I don't blame them; she's tall, pretty, sweet, basic cheerleader material. I'm just lucky she hasn't ditched me for the popular crowd.

I'm somewhat of a loner in school, often labeled Goth or Emo. I want to sock them hard in the face for labeling me that, because I'm neither. But I've kept that anger bottled up, for I've learned emotions tend to only get in the way. But Kori hasn't left me yet, not since I was assigned to show her around school almost a month ago.

I think I wanted to strangle her within the first day I met her. Not only was she the vision of female perfection, but she was from some European country and spoke in exact grammar and with an accent. Not to mention, she was so sweet it was almost sickening.

But she grew on me, I suppose. I'm still waiting for Kathryn Moth to come up to us one day and, twirling her hair and chewing that pink gum she always has in her mouth, suggesting Kori try out for cheerleading.

As I was saying, back on the subject of Gar, I felt someone nudge me in the rib, bringing me back into reality. It was Kori, playfully bumping me with her arm.

"Rachel, I think there is someone looking at you."

Slowly, I turn my eyes to see Gar indeed looking straight at me. We lock eye contact for maybe three seconds, three wonderful seconds, and then he quickly looks away, face beet red.

I turn back to Kori as though it hadn't happened. She is smiling in that way that says: Don't-try-to-deny-it-because-I-saw-it-too.

But out of the corner of my eye, I see him approaching me. Oh my god, I think my heart just stopped beating.

Is that normal for someone who has no feelings for another person, one who happens to be walking right over as the song is switching into a slow song?

---

I have no clue what I'm doing.

This is one of those times where you aren't thinking. Like my old buddy Mr. T would say, "Shoot first, think later." That sort of thing. I mean, this is a party. A party that plays music. That usually means people are supposed to dance. So, it's all in good fun if I ask a girl I'm supposed to hate to dance, to a slow song no less?

But I really can't help myself. It's like I'm drawn to her, like I've…I don't know how to explain it. But I know if I don't, I'll be one of those old men sitting on his porch in his rocking chair, smoking his pipe, muttering to himself what would happen if he had done something different.

Ugh, I'm a nerd.

Moment of truth, I'm standing right in front of her. Her friend is giggling and doing her best to keep quiet, but it's pretty obvious she isn't doing such a good job.

"Hey, Rachel," I say. Could I be any lamer?

She looks up, "Hi…Gar."

I knew this was a mistake. Well, no turning back now. "Want to dance?"

She looks like she's about to choke. It's a good thing she didn't have anything in her mouth right now, or I'd be chatting away with the paramedics in a few seconds.

"Uhh…I guess." 'I guess'…I think that says enough for it.

I take her hand, leading her to the dance floor. I can see the guys' reactions in my mind. Vic falls over in shock, Rich stares on, wide eyed, and Wally freezes whatever he's doing, which probably is flirting with whatever female he's currently is conversing with.

Had it been anyone else, I probably would've done the same, though. I mean, I may be the King of Spontaneous-land, ruler of all things spur-of-the-moment throughout the impulsive kingdom, but this was way off Gar-radar.

What am I doing? Have I finally lost my mental capacity?

But we've started dancing. God, she's beautiful. She's blushing as I slip my hand onto her waist…wow, this is awkward. I can hear the song playing in the background…Run, by Snow Patrol.

I had to ask on the long song, didn't I?

---

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

---

My face is as red as a tomato, I'm guessing. I'm a little surprised at how tall he is, compared to me. I can't look into those eyes for too long, less I want to look like a lovesick puppy, caught in his gaze.

When Kori had convinced me to go this party, I, never in my wildest dreams, had ever thought I'd be dancing, let alone with him, of all people.

I can't explain his appeal to me; I've never felt so drawn to anyone like this before. Especially not him, someone who I've never even had a conversation with before out of a forced class debate.

They're playing Run, by Snow Patrol. Thank god it's a long song. I just want to stay here in his arms forever; it's so hard not to bury my head into his chest and just want to melt away with him.

Is this normal? Tell me, is it?

What would my father do, if he saw me like this? With the son of the man he detests more than anything in the world? He'd go ballistic, that's what. He wants me to take over his company one day, and as his sole heir, I'll get it whether or not I want it. What would Gar say to that? I know he's like his father; protector of things living, strict vegan, I've even seen him at some protests of my father's company.

Why am I even thinking this? We'll never speak again after this dance, anyway.

---

Slower slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

---

I'm surprised, to say the least. She's so tiny, so petite, I feel almost like a giant standing next to her. I suppress a laugh, thinking of how she would look next to Vic.

I'm starting to be happy with their pick of songs; I don't want to let her go. Not ever.

Ha, if Dad could hear me now. Wanting to never let go of the daughter of the man he hates more than nuclear bombs? That's kind of funny, in a sick and twisted way.

It's amusing, because we're so different; me and Rachel. She's cynical and I'm lively, she's sarcastic and I'm happy-go-lucky. We're polar opposites, and yet…

I don't want to say it without sounding like a freak. These feelings I'm feeling are more than I've ever felt for any one of my past girlfriends, for Tara, for anyone. Am I going crazy?

She relaxes, slipping into my arms. I tighten my grip around her, holding tight.

---

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

---

The song is ending.

I gave in to those tedious feelings, resting my head against his warm chest. I'm listening to his heartbeat. Words cannot express it, but how soothing it is.

I fear for my sanity.

Even if, come Monday, we never utter a word to each other again, I won't forget this. Even if I'm old and married happily or alone and ruling the corporate world with an iron fist, this is something that will be embedded with me forever.

---

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

---

The song is over, I think. We're still dancing.

Reluctantly, I let go, slowly stepping away. She looks up, her face many tints of red (though I'm sure mine is the same) and whispers,

"Thank you."

That was it. Just a thank you, no goodbye. She returns to her seat, her friend instantly bombarding her with questions. I watch for a few moments, then too head back over to my friends.

They're all standing open mouthed by the punch bowl. Ugh, I'm in for a world of hell.

---

"Who was he? Was he a good dancer? Was it fun?"

He was Garfield Logan. He was an excellent dancer. Fun couldn't begin to explain it.

But I don't say any of this to Kori. Right now I'm focusing on rubbing my temples and drowning out Kori's voice.

Wow and double wow. I steal a glance at him, being punched in the arm playfully by his friends as he looks like he's explaining something. He catches my gaze, and smiles back at me. I find myself smiling back…I never smile.

This is too strange, too strange. I watch them talk, eventually making their way towards the exit. Things will never be simple for me again; this much I can say right now.

School won't be the same, knowing he's there. College won't be the same, Yale, by the way, knowing he won't be going. Gar doesn't have the grades for Yale, I know. Besides, I heard him chatting with Wally in English last week on how he got into Stanford. Probably taking over my father's place as corporate won't be the same, knowing he'll probably be at every single protest that he can.

Monday is gonna be one hell of a day.


ZEEE END OF CHAPTER ONE!

I muuuuussstttt know, did you like it?

I'm sorry about the alternating POV, but...I thought it worked better. If it was confusing, sorry.

Did I make it Romeo and Juliet enough? I think R&J opens up at a party scene, doesn't it? I've never actually read R&J, so I'll need to sometime soon. Heh...

Anyway, please do review! I will love you foreeevvverrrrr. Well, maybe not, but you get what I mean, eh?

I tried to use humor, too. I found the "I mean, I may be the King of Spontaneous-land, ruler of all things spur-of-the-moment throughout the impulsive kingdom, but this was way off Gar-radar." comment rather humorous. But then again, I'm lame like that.