Great Expectations

"If it starts with attraction, it ends up in trouble." -- Phantom Planet

I walked into physics the next morning and sat in my seat. The seat next to me was empty and there were about ten seconds until the bell would ring. Dean sauntered into the room and sat down just as the bell echoed through the halls. He turned to me and grinned. “Morning, dollface,” he said brightly. I ignored him, staring forward at the blank chalkboard. “Don’t tell me,” he continued. “Mommy and Daddy told you you’re not allowed to talk to the bad boy 'cuz he’s no good for you.”

“Exactly,” I said, deciding that if conversation could not be avoided, one-word answers would work.

“That won’t last very long,” he said quietly, speaking in my ear. Professor Collins took attendance and began to write equations on the board, expecting us to copy them into our notebooks.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I have a basic knowledge of psychology.” I could feel his breath on my neck and wanted to move away, but I remained motionless. I wanted to hear what else he had to say. “We always want what we can’t have.”

I turned to look at him, but he had already shifted away from me, his gaze on the chalkboard and his notebook open. He glanced at me sideways, an enormous grin on his face. At this moment in time, Dean Montague may have the upper hand, but I swore to myself I would not let him keep it for very long. I would not allow myself to become attracted to Dean Montague in any way, shape, or form.

God knows what would happen if I did.



One of the many perks of being a senior was being allowed to eat outside in the courtyard when the weather was nice. Today, the skies were unusually gray and overcast, but none of us cared – we all sat on the picnic tables around the courtyard, trying to soak up the few rays of the sun.

Poppy and I sat on one of the picnic tables, eating our lunch and watching our classmates. “Dakota dyed her hair again,” Poppy noted, gesturing to the girl with vibrant red hair. “I wonder what her natural hair color is. I don’t even remember.”

“It’s brown,” I said. “Remember that time in fifth grade when she cut it herself? It’s that mousy brown color.”

“Oh, yeah,” Poppy said, taking a huge bite out of her apple. “I don’t blame her for dying it, everyone dyes their hair. But honestly, that red just looks unnatural.”

“Says the girl who once dyed her bangs electric blue,” I said, picking at my salad. I noted all the girls’ new outfits – who was still wearing designer, who had completely changed their style, and who had remained completely unchanged. I also noted that some of the guys had gotten taller, some more muscular, and some seemed shorter.

“Oh, God, I think Charity’s posse expanded,” Poppy said, her eyes narrowing at the group of girls seated across the courtyard. Charity was sitting on the picnic table, several girls surrounding her like loyal subjects. If I had known high school would have been so much like a feudal kingdom, I might have asked to be home schooled.

“Thank God we only have one more year of dealing with her,” I said. “I’m not sure I could stand another year of your feuding.”

“Your support is so highly appreciated,” Poppy said sarcastically, letting her gaze pan across the courtyard. “Kyle Bennett definitely got hotter over the summer,” she noted. “He’s taller and his hair is longer, and it looks a little blonder. He wouldn’t get highlights, would he?”

“He spends every day surfing,” I remarked, noticing the muscular, sun-tanned guy sitting under a tree with his friends. “It’s definitely natural, not bought.”

“Ah, you’re right,” Poppy said, still watching Kyle. “I wonder what he’s doing this weekend.”

I smiled at her. No matter what, Poppy would always be the same, and that was comforting. It was good to know that in a world that’s always changing, there are still constants: your best friend will always be the same person, your high school will still be a social nightmare, and life is always confusing. They might not be good things, but they are things to be counted on.

“Where’s Hunter?” Poppy asked. I glanced across the courtyard, not seeing his disheveled blond hair.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I didn’t see him this morning.”

“Maybe he didn’t come to school,” Poppy said. I shrugged and glanced at the sky, which seemed to darken by the second. “Your favorite person is coming,” Poppy said. “If you’re not supposed to talk to him, I would run. Run away, right now.”

I tore my gaze from the sky too late. Dean Montague was standing in front of me, smiling in a way that almost scared me.

“What do you want?” Poppy asked. In true best friend form, she loved the people I loved and hated the people I hated. I did the same thing for her – years of friendship build strong bonds and unbreakable habits.

“I just wanted to talk to Juliet,” Dean said.

“I thought she told you she wasn’t allowed to talk to people like you,” Poppy shot back. Her gaze was cool, her eyes narrow. She folded her arms over her chest – a typical stance when she was upset or angry.

“Do you ever let Juliet speak for herself?” Dean asked. “Or is she not allowed to do that, either?”

“Stop,” I interjected, trying to break up their argument. “I don’t want to listen to you two argue for the rest of my life.” Poppy shrugged apologetically and I turned to face Dean. “What do you want?”

“I already said I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

“About what?” I continued.

He shrugged. “Life, politics, pop culture, I don’t really care.” He sat down next to me.

Poppy sighed and stood up. “I’m going to talk to Kyle,” she announced. “I’m watching you,” she warned Dean before picking up her bag and walking across the courtyard to the tree where Kyle and his friends were seated.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Dean said, leaning his elbows on his knees and turning to look at me. “Are you really determined not to talk to me?” I shrugged. “I’d love to get to know you, princess.” A smile cracked across his face. “I’m not the monster your parents think I am.” Thunder suddenly rolled across the sky, followed seconds later by heavy raindrops. Shrieks echoed across the courtyard as people ran for cover. Dean glanced at the rainy sky, shrugged off his coat, and held it over our heads.

“Even rebels can be chivalrous,” he said. I stared at him, unable to comprehend the fact that this rude boy that society told me to hate was being so nice. “Come on, let’s get inside before we get soaked." We stood and walked under the cover of the hallways, where Dean shook off his coat.

“See you later, princess.” He walked off, cutting a path through the hallway. People still avoided him, afraid of his rebel reputation but intrigued by the mystery that always surrounded a new kid. I couldn’t help but watch him walk away, the words he’d said in physics still echoing in my head.

We always want what we can’t have.