What's Your Name?

A - #1

So sorry for the long wait! Here's the first chapter! Have fun reading! :)

Dedicated to Purplepillow for the eye-catching cover she made me! Thank you so much! :P

(UNEDITED)

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“If we can forgive what has been done to us . . .

If we can forgive what we've done to others . . .

If we can leave all of our stories behind. Our being villians or victims.

Only then can we maybe rescue the world.

But we still sit here, waiting to be saved. While we're still victims, hoping to be discovered while we suffer.” 

― Chuck Palahniuk, Haunted

A

#1

|Andrew Garvey|

Walking nonchalantly down the crowded school veranda, I was extra-conscious of those shameless, lustful stares on me as I passed by. I'd always felt like a spotlight was trained on me all the time, drawing attention to my flawless face and perfect body. No woman would be able to be oblivious of my presence. And I couldn't blame them for that -- you wouldn't hate it if people thought that you're too cute to be unpopular, would you?

Flattered by the thought of my firmly established position in the social pyramid, I angled my head to the left and whistled to a random chick playfully. Guess what? Probably stunned by the unbelievable reality that the handsome guy in her dreams finally noticed her, her jaw crashed to the ground, falling down on her knees, eyes widening with shock, arms trembling with unspeakable excitement -- not literally, of course. Her lips were stretched into a big, round O, mouthing, 'Oh my God, oh my God, he actually looked at me'. Out of jealousy -- I assumed -- several hotties nudged the momentarily dazed and disoriented girl with their heels, pouting their plump, glossy lips so hard they began to turn white.

"Bitches," I snorted, and proceeded to my locker. For some unexplainable reasons, I had to admit, that little stunt had just made my morning. I ran my fingers through my wavy auburn hair, smirking.

Don't judge me for being the bad boy, 'kay? I had my reasons. When I was a naïve freshman, my mother had taught me not to play with a girl's emotions, to treat them like princesses and shit. I obeyed her, pampered my very first girlfriend, gave her all she wanted, but all I got in return was her disloyalty in our relationship. I was in a violent surge of anger and frustration when I found out she cheated on me with my ex-best buddy. Believe me, that was the worst day of my life. Ever.

I flinched a little at the unpleasant flashback of my first breakup scene. Frowning a little, I massaged my temples, shaking off the horrible memory lingering in my mind -- I hate thinking about it, God knows why.

Since then, I changed. Transformed. I dumped my nerdy look and went for a serious makeover, started hanging out with the populars, asked cheerleaders out for dates, broke their hearts, and even got myself on the school's football team. And... Voilà! Here comes Andrew Garvey, the hot guy, the biggest player yet. I liked the new me. A lot. In fact, everyone liked me better this way.

Sighing, I pulled my locker door open, and took all the crap I needed for the next class. Till the minute I was about to close it, something white caught my eye. Must be those cliché love letters. I pinched the bridge of my nose, inhaling deeply before reaching for the unknown yet familiar piece of paper. You know, you had to brace yourself every time for those banal, mawkishly sentimental letters girls gave you -- it had saved me in surviving a critical heart attack before -- yeah, I was exaggerating, but that's just me being me. Cocking an eyebrow, I smoothed the miserable-looking letter with my thumb as I deliberately unfolded it.