Finger on the Trigger to My Dear Juliet

I was still nervous, still scared. I had never let anyone get as close to figuring out my secret as Max was.

But after a couple days of playful banter and concerned looks, I couldn't see the sharks circling anymore. I was beginning to feel relieved.

Ronnie, Max and I were walking back from school, just like we always did, when a large, red Escalade came barreling down the street, blasting sexual and off-beat rap music, rattling the vehicle's frame.

"Fuckers!" Ronnie yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Turn your music down!"

I anxiously tugged at him sleeve, shooting Max a worried glance.

"Ronnie..." I said softly, and even I could hear the fear in my own voice.

"Relax Charlie," He tried to reassure me, a lopsided grin on his face. "They can't hear me through all that shitty music."

But they apparently could hear, and the car swirled back around towards us in a tight circle. My breath caught in my throat.

"Shit," Ronnie muttered, and I heard Max spouting obscenities under his breath.

The Escalade pulled over, the car doors opening to reveal a group of four black guys, and they all looked extremely angry. I whimpered as Ronnie tensed to my left.

"Yo man, you sayin' shit about our music?!"

"Damn fags," Another added, causing Max to growl.

"Yeah, I did," Ronnie replied.

"Listen," The apparent leader of the group said. "I'm going to make you a deal. Give us something good and we won't beat your skinny white ass."

I thought about this for a moment, fear slowly growing inside me. What they said certainly was plausible. Only Max and Ronnie were able to fight very well, so we were a bit outnumbered. I knew that the two of my friends were probably intelligent enough to realize this. Unfortunately, I had left my can of Mace home in my dresser drawer, and I was really irritated with myself over it.

"Hey man," One said, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him. "She's kinda hot."

"Let go of me!" I yelled, hearing Ronnie advance.

"How much money do you want?"

I looked over at Max in surprise, and Ronnie shot him an incredulous look. The group of black guys smirked.

"Tough choice, money or a hoe. How much you offering?"

One of the guy's grip on me tightened, his other hand trailing down towards my ass. I shuddered.

"Eighty," Max replied. That meant forty from Ronnie and forty from him.

"Deal," The group agreed, shoving me back into Ronnie's chest as Max handed them the bills.

"Pleasure doing business with ya."

I watched as the group left, feeling incredibly stupid at the entire affair.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, as Ronnie put an arm around me, looking down at me with a sympathetic face.

"Nah, it's alright Charlie," He said. "It's more my fault for being such an ass and not listening to you. I'm sorry they used you like that, but to be honest I'd be a bit more worried if they were gay."

I couldn't help but laugh at his words, and I looked over at Max as we resumed walking.

"Thank you. Really."

His lips turned up into a smile, and I felt relief.

"Your welcome," He replied, patting my head.

I felt terrible that Max and Ronnie, mostly Max, always had to bail me out whenever I was in trouble. It made me feel helpless.

[>>>]

"Who're your stupid friends?!"

I cringed at my father's words, trying not to watch as he motioned to Max and Ronnie entering their own house across the street with a wine bottle.

"Let me remind you, we don't allow trash into this house, you hear me?!"

"They're not trash!"

I felt a stinging pain in my cheek and I fell to the ground. My punishment for defending my friends. With every word he said next he kicked me in my torso, my arms, anything within reach.

"They are if I say they are! You filthy whore! I bet you owe them something and you repay them in bed!"

I felt horrible anger inside of me, but I didn't reply as I clutched my body, the hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

"That's right, don't say anything. Nobody wants to hear what you've got to say anyway. It's your fault your mother is dead, you hear me you little punk, your fault!"

Then he stomped upstairs to his bedroom, the bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. Once again I felt helpless, always the victim, never able to stand up for myself. I was such a horrible person. Maybe I deserved this. Maybe my father was really right about what he said to me. What if nobody did care what I had to say?

[>>>]

I made it through school the next day, aware of some people giving me strange looks.

I had used a lot of concealer, but the red mark on my face still shown through, if only slightly. I could only imagine what the people were saying about me, and what Ronnie and Max would think.

I avoided them most of the day, and thankfully they didn't try to engage me in conversation. Until the end of the day.

I was one of the last people in the entire school, due to the fact that I had hid in a stall in the girl's bathroom to avoid strange looks from the crowds of people polluting the hallways.

I turned the combo on my locker, swinging it open and shoving my math book along with a binder and who knows what else into my bag.

It wasn't until then that I realized somebody was standing behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. I jumped, my heart rate speeding up considerably, and not lessening any slightly when I realized it was Max.

"Oh, h-hi Max. Where's Ronnie?"

His eyes were tight, his lips formed into a straight line. I took a deep breath.

"I told him to go on ahead and that I was looking for you. Charlie," He began. "What happened to your face?"

My palms were sweaty. I knew what Max would see, obscured beneath the skin-colored cream. A slightly pink mark on my left cheek, about the size of a hand.

"N-nothing, I just...I just-"

"Don't lie to me Charlie, please. I know something's going on with you."

My breathing rate sped up considerably, dangerously close to the hyperventilation stage.

"Did you...did Ronnie?"

"No, I didn't tell him. But I'm sick of seeing you like this Charlie. You look so breakable; like glass."

I could barely get the words past my lips, and I couldn't meet Max's eyes.

"I-I don't want you to get...hurt Max..."

My breath barely came out in a whisper, and I felt the emptiness of the vacant hallway.

"Forget about me. I want to help you."

"It's none of your business," I shot back weakly, but Max shook his head.

"You've made it my business."

There was silence, until I finally asked the question that had bugged me since the first time he had probed me about my feeble Gym excuse.

"Why do you care?"

The question apparently took him off guard, and he began stammering, trying to find the right words.

"Charlie I...I mean...I really..."

"Yes Max?" I hedged, not daring to believe it. "What is it?"

His eyes darted to my face and out at the empty hallway, and I saw his lip tremble. He looked genuinely nervous and frightened.

But instead of replying he cupped his hand around my cheek, leaning in towards me. I felt his warm breath tickle my lips before they met.

I didn't know why, and I didn't know how, but I was certain now that Max had had me from the moment he crossed the street with Ronnie. It was a really cliche line, but it was true.

The way his lower lip looked when the snakebites were in place, giving him an I-don't-give-a-fuck kind of look. His personality was so different though. The way he constantly stood up for me, even offering eighty bucks so that I wouldn't get hurt. The way he genuinely cared about me, the way that he was so attentive, whereas Ronnie was too consumed in his own problems.

Maybe it was how his hair looked as we walked to school, when it was still damp and, in my opinion, at it's best. Maybe it was how he rarely smiled, but when he did, it was so special. Special enough that I wanted to keep him smiling and laughing over and over again. Maybe it was the way that he suspected from the moment we met, and I made those little white lies that Ronnie so easily swallowed, but Max looked past them. He saw how vulnerable and scared I really was. Maybe it was the fact that I knew he played some form of guitar, his fingers so calloused in certain areas.

So I immediately relaxed, wounding my arms around his neck as his breath filled my mouth, my back against the hard metal of the lockers, single footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway.

I trusted Max. More than I trusted Ronnie. That was an incredible first for me.

Max's hands moved down to my waist, pressing my slightly harder against the locker. I felt him nibbling slightly on my lower lip, asking for an entrance. I granted him one. His lips then moved down to my cheek, my neck, and back up to my lips.

"Max," I breathed softly before his lips were on mine again.

And then we broke apart, and I felt awkward, a blush creeping up my face. I couldn't look up at him, but I knew he was looking at me.

"You better get used to me Fallon," He said breathlessly, sending an excited surge through my body. "Because I'm planning on sticking around for a while longer."