Remington Davis
To say I was a quiet girl would be considered an understatement. I usually hid myself behind the latest issue of Vogue and pretended that the kids in high school were all fictional characters whom would go away if I imagined them to.
But they didn't go away.
It's not that I was bullied. I didn't get called names and I was never crammed into a locker. Nobody stole my lunch money nor spread rumors about me. They just simply ignored me.
Have you ever read or seen the Princess Diaries? In the beginning of it, Mia was a nobody. Someone had even sat on her; nobody knew that she existed. That's how I was most of the time. People looked at me, but they didn't really see me.
The difference between Mia and I is that Mia became princess of Genovia and I became princess of hiding behind a glossy magazine. And although we may not have shared similar lives, we did share one thing:
We found a prince.
Mia's prince was fictional, but astoundingly enough, mine was real. He had deep brown hair and eyes that reminded me of the crystal clear water surrounding Hawaii. His face was attractive, but not in an obvious way. You didn't look at him and think oh my god, he's gorgeous. The thing that made him beautiful was his soul.
I met my prince, Adam, during my senior year in high school. I didn't like him; he was too friendly and happy. That sounds odd, doesn't it? He's too happy. But it was true. Adam rarely frowned, instead grinning at his friends in the hallway and offering them high fives. Unlike his football friends, he was polite to everyone and got good grades.
On the wide scale of things, he was the complete opposite of me.
It had been a cold November afternoon in England when my chemistry teacher, Mr. Kelly, had paired Adam and I up for an experiment. I remember the dread I felt in my stomach when I heard our names being called together.
Dragging myself over to the lab table, I plopped onto the seat next to Adam without a word. I didn't meet his gaze nor make small talk, instead indulging myself in the lab report in front of me, filling in as much as I could.
"Hi, I'm Adam." I glanced at the owner of the deep voice, offering him a quick smile before scribbling more answers down.
"You're Remington Davis, right?"
This time I had to answer him, as I didn't want to be rude. "I prefer Remi."
"I think we had English together last year." And he was right; we did have that class together the year before. I didn't like him then, either.
Things were definitely getting awkward between the two of us, and admittedly, it was my own fault. I should have been more social and more friendly, but I wasn't, and that was that.
Throughout that cold November afternoon, while seated at the Chemistry lab, I got to know Adam. The Bunsen burners had stopped working, leaving the class to cease their work. So him and I talked. I can't remember how he had gotten me to start chatting with him, but I'm glad he did. Because from that day on, Adam West and I became inseparable.
Our first date had been at a pizzeria in town. I was so nervous I nearly threw up the greasy pepperoni that lay heavily in my stomach. I had worn too much mascara and too tight of jeans, but it had been the best--and only--first date of my life.
Amusement parks, movie theaters, and Suzanne's Rock Climbing had taken the form of our next few dates. And in the month of December, on the night of Christmas Eve, I became Adam West's girlfriend.
The school might have went into a state of shock, but I was too happy to care. My days of being alone and drowning out the world were long gone, instead taken up by my new boyfriend and his group of friends, whom I learned to tolerate. It was against every normal high school; the quiet loner girl snatched up the popular boy without having to try. And that was the beauty of it--I didn't try to be with Adam on purpose. It just happened, as if it was meant to be.
Birthdays were celebrated, graduation occurred, and soon enough a year of our relationship flew by in what seemed like the blink of an eye; the laughs were constant, our smiles were inevitable, and our love was invincible.
Or so I thought.
We were just shy of our first anniversary. On the eve of December twentieth, Adam and I had a fight--a big one. He had asked me to go to his parents' house for Christmas, and I told him that I wanted to spend it with my own folks. He argued that I never compromised with him and I argued that he was too stubborn. Eventually, it got to the point where I threw him out of my apartment I lived in during college. I told him to get out of my sight and that he sickened me. I used those exact words: you sicken me.
Two hours later, I called his cell phone. I was upset and needed to speak with him, I needed to tell him I loved him. Instead of my boyfriend answering the call, a man answered it. He explained to me that his name was Mike Hartman and that he was a police officer.
A billion of questions flew out of my mouth; was Adam in jail?; was Adam okay?; did I need to call his mother? Mike, in return, stated simply:
"You need to get over to the Kline Hospital immediately."
I don't think I had ever driven over the speed limit before that night. My car was moving at an incredible pace, as was my heart beat within my chest.
Kline Hospital's receptionist appointed me to room 304, where Adam was located. I ran through halls, jammed on elevator buttons, and ran into numerous people as I tried to find the room. When I did find it, a part of me wished I hadn't.
My eyes skimmed the scene before me; I can still remember it like I just saw it yesterday. Fluorescent lights still clouded my vision. The prominent smell of stale cleaning products was constantly being smelled. The sound of the heart monitor still rang in my ears. Beep, beep, beep.
Tears were running freely down my cheeks as I frantically asked the doctors what happened. They kept using words such as "unsure" and "miracle", but it all came out as nothing to me. And in the end, it all meant nothing.
Because on the night of December twentieth, just four days from our anniversary, the love of my life died.
Authorities say that it was a couple of drunk drivers. They struck his vehicle with such a force that put Adam into a coma, causing him to die not even two hours into.
In action movies, there are always scenes where everything is in slow motion. A bullet in the air, a kick being swung; it moves at a slow rate, for dramatic affect. That's how my life was after Adam died. Everything moved in slow motion.
The pitied words of "I'm sorry" followed me everywhere I went. Sad eyes were trained on me at all times as people told me what a shame it had been to lose someone as swell as Adam West.
And it was a shame. It was a shame that he had gone out the way he did, in such a tragic death. The drunk driver that hit him was sent to jail with manslaughter. He was locked up, behind metal bars, stuck in a moldy bunk.
But no justice was served for me. Because the boy I loved, the boy I kissed and hugged and cuddled and cried on and laughed with was gone.
And he wasn't ever coming back.
~~~~~
So this is a new fanfic we're working on and by we, I mean, Taylor (@edsheercraic) and Tara (@VirginHarry); you should follow us on Twitter. And you should go check out Tara's page, wattpad.com/virginharry. This is a joint fanfic, we switch off POVs. Tara will be writing the girl's POV and Taylor will be writing the boy's POV. So thank you and enjoy. We love each and everyone of you.
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