Crash and Burn

s i x: Why Are You Talking To Me?

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing out here crying?"

The words echo in my head over and over again, in an endless replay. I could hear his thick British accent even after he finished speaking. My sobs come to a sudden halt, and my head turns around fast enough to get whiplash. There stands a boy against the black sky, his hood up, making him look mysterious.

He was six feet, if not taller. Even though his hood was shielding the majority of his head, I could still see a few blonde curls peeking out. I can also make out a few neck tattoos, which got me wondering how much they hurt when he got them.

I knew this boy, that was for sure. He was at a senior party, so obviously he was a senior unless he was a junior crashing, but I highly doubt that by how old he looks.

Then out of nowhere, it dawned on me.

Logan Smith.

I'm sure I would have realized that it was him if it wasn't for his hood being pulled up, and the night sky, casting a dark shadow over us.

He was the star quarterback, the boy every girl pined over, the boy every other boy wished he was, and most of all, Roman Anderson's one and only competition.

Some people thought that Roman was the school's most popular, but just as many thought that Logan had him beat. I remember back in sophomore year when they got in a fight over Isabella Montez, the school's bombshell head cheerleader. She was almost as fake as a barbie doll. It made me sick. I don't remember who ended up winning, but I vaguely remember seeing Logan and Isabella all over each other the following week. I assumed that Roman lost.

Logan Smith wasn't by any means a nobody, but then again neither was i. I was fairly well known, well at least by the people who actually paid attention to student council, or attended cross country meets. I wasn't popular in the slightest, however. I don't think I had ever seen Logan associate himself with anyone who wasn't on the same social status as him, so why was he talking to me?

"Why are you talking to me?" I blurt out, still sitting on the ground, looking pathetic.

"Well love, you look a bit down and I wanted to see if you were alright." He speaks, completely missing my point.

My heart flutters a little when he calls me 'love' but I ignore it. If he was just being nice to me when I was vulnerable to get into my pants, then I wanted nothing to do with him.

"No, I mean why are you talking to me? You're popular, I'm not, so why are you here with me instead of inside with your 'people'" I put quotes around 'people' hoping he would know who I was talking about.

"I would much rather be out here comforting a pretty girl then in there with drunk smelly teens." he chuckles deeply, making me angry. I didn't like being lied to, so if this was some kind of stunt, I wanted to know.

"Look, Logan, if you're here thinking you can manipulate me into having sex with you just because I'm crying, you have another thing coming." I snarl, my previous tears easily forgotten.

"Calm down there babe. I genuinely want to know what's got you so upset, but not before I learn your name." He says, taking a seat next to me in the grass.

I look into his eyes, that just so happen to be blue, and I can't help but compare them to Roman's. Of course Roman's were green, but they looked like they held so much emotion while Logan's were far more warm and welcoming. I found myself trusting him, just because I saw that his eyes looked trusting.

"It's Tessa Lynne," I speak in a small voice, picking blades of grass out of the soil with my unsteady hands.

"Ah, Tessa Lynne. Yes, that name sounds familiar. I hear you're quite the runner?" He asks, a small smile playing on his pink lips.