Disclaimer: I don't any of this. It belongs to the amazing writer that is, Sarah Dessen.
I'd never done this before. Followed a girl so intently, much less a girl like Remy, but there was something about her that drew me in and once I got drawn in I knew I wouldn't be able to escape.
She stopped at the payphone, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. It was a little messed up, and even though I was pretty sure she was drunk, she adjusted her top, flattening the material so there were no creases on it. Something I wouldn't have done even if I were sober.
She reached into her pocket, before pulling out the inside material and coming out empty. She looked at the sky, confused for a bit, than bit her lip. Something I'd noticed that seemed to be a habit of hers.
Putting a hand to her head, she shut her eyes tight, and for a moment I thought she was going to fall asleep right then and there. Then she moved her hand over her face, shook her head, and opened her eyes again, breathing in deeply.
She bit her lip again and I realised that she was trying not to cry. I took a step closer to her.
"Come on. Tell me what's wrong." I didn't want to scare her away. She seemed like the type that didn't handle full on confrontations very well.
"No. Go away." She sounded so tired. So weak. So unlike the Remy I'd met for the first time at the car dealership.
"Remy, tell me." This was gentle too. Coaxing it out of her little by little.
She moved her head slightly, giving me the universal sign of 'no'. Once more, a little glare, but this time something was breaking through.
Then, before I knew it, she was crying. Great heaving sobs that she was trying to keep in herself. She was on the ground now so I crept down next to her, watching as this girl I knew I was destined for, wept, and all I could do was stand helplessly watching her.
She looked so vulnerable. Like the part she didn't want people to see was suddenly shining through. The part she thought was weak. The part that made her seem so fragile, so delicate, when, in the normal world she was anything but.
I'd consoled enough women before. I knew what it was like. My mother had had enough breakdowns for me to learn how to deal with an upset girl. I whispered words into her ear. She had to be the first to reach for me, only then would I know that she would be alright. I couldn't force her into a situation where I was her crutch.
She was Remy, and she was strong. Stronger than any girl I'd ever met before, and maybe that was why I was attracted to her. Maybe that was the reason I'd chased her so fervently. She was a challenge, and though that was probably what it was at first, it had, over the countless times I'd met her, morphed into something more, and we both knew it, even if she didn't want to admit it.
She was in my arms before I could count to three. Her fingers gripping onto my top, as though she was afraid that I might leave. That I would just float away and leave her there by herself in the middle of the street.
I stroked her hair, smoothing the tangles with my hands, and breathed in the smell of her. Cigarettes and alcohol, which I knew was from the bar, and her shampoo, sweet and tangy, clouding my brain until it was the only thing I could smell.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. In each other's arms, me, breathing in her scent, her, clenching onto my clothes. But it was in that simple moment. That insignificant, trivial moment, that I realised I wanted to know her.
Really know her.
Because now she wasn't just Remy Starr: Dexter's dream girl.
Now she was Remy Starr: beautiful, tragic mystery.
And I was going to make it my challenge to uncover her.
A/N: Upon my second reading of this brilliant book, while reading this part, I wondered what it would be like in Dexter's POV, so I wrote down my thoughts. I hope that this does the book justice. It's late and I'm a bit tired, but I quite like this one. Feel free to review, they're received very warmly.