My Lolita, Cassandra [RFK/Bobby Kennedy] (Alternate Universe)

Part One

A LITTLE NOTE:
This book is purely written in good intentions of entertainment and amusement. I do not condone pedophilia, child-grooming, or underage sex in any way whatsoever. I've acknowledged Lolita and American Beauty are both corrupted to a certain degree; I do not romanticized them at all. I write this out of my own creativity and for simple pleasure of creating something new and unexplored.

With that being said, if you're uncomfortable with vast age-gap, mature content, and essentially a bastardized story: do not read this book.

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This story takes place in nineteen ninety-five, Manhattan, New York. My parents had a divorce while I was in boarding school, when I got out, they asked me and my brother to choose which one of them we'd live with. We chose to live in a mansion with my time-poor—but wealthy—father. I'd fallen in love with the city; forgetting Beverly Hills for the Big Apple.

Being a seventeen-year-old girl, you'd do anything to be popular; go out with that handsome jock; create your own clique or join one, and last but not least, be a teacher's favorite pet.

But no one ever says anything about falling in love with your best friend's dad — yet, something whispers into my ear; something stronger than the devil himself, that I shall seduce him.

"The Older Romeo"

"Remember, Cassandra, you have the most lines in the next scene. Memorize them!" Mr. Prescott, your theatre teacher, orders you with his pale eyes gazing steely into yours.

"What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell!" Your quick-witted and flippant response catch him off guard; he can only shake his head as cat's got his tongue. It's funny to you; the 30-year-old has been on your back the entire year, it's almost like he admires the way you deflect his criticisms. He's so totally in love with me! Now, you don't mean to think the way you do, but being good is rearmost in your list of long priorities.

The auditorium's echoing with voices of new students—you're determined to get out of there before your eardrums burst. Just as you're taking a step forward, someone strikes your shoulder lightly — you instantly recognize the size of the hand.

"Hey, Di," you casually utter the two words with your back facing her.

The much shorter girl hops into your sight with several things inside her hands; a script, a prop, perhaps a cup of cold coffee—but one shiny, blundering thing is catching your eyes. "Is that your dad's watch?" You ask, pointing at the silver watch.

Diane takes a glimpse at it and nods dismissively. "Listen, he's out of town, do you want to come over?" Her curly hair seems a bit out of place, you begin to wonder if something traumatic happened to her that pushed her over the edge.

"Did you cut your hair?" You reach for her brunette locks.

There's a slight smile on Diane's face, but the moment she sees the look of disgust on your face, she quickly swats your hand away.

"Ouch!?" You whine cluelessly, caressing your right hand to soothe the pain.

"Did you hear what I said?"

Of course, you did, but your homework is going to keep piling on your desk if you keep ignoring them—it's as tall as the Eiffel Tower already.

"I hear you, Di, but I can't tonight."