Contagious

Parker wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for the way she felt when Martin's blue, blue eyes met with hers. Her stomach twisted, her palms started to sweat, her heart was pounding, her mind was racing. Memories flooded back, things she had long forgotten and buried away in the deepest facets of her mind; memories she had hoped to never think about again. But they were all flooding back with the way Martin smiled at her.

“So where did your last tour take you? Tahiti? Argentina? Somalia? Antarctica?” Martin asked, smirking at the last suggestion.

Parker crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to calm the twisting. It didn't work...not that she thought it would. “Actually, it was Australia. But our last show was last night in New York.”

“New York, huh? Livin' the dream, aren't you, Parks?” Martin asked.

She laughed, just barely, shaking her head. “Yeah, it's the life.”

“You don't sound too sure about that.”

“Mr. Johnson, leave the new girl alone,” Mr. Holtman said, tapping his fingers on his desk, annoyed.

“Oh, she's not new, so it's okay,” Martin said, turning around.

Mr. Holtman stared at Martin. “Don't test me on the first day.”

Martin smiled. “But history wouldn't be the same without it!”

Parker sucked in a deep breath, pure relief, when Martin turned around. She slouched down in her seat a little bit more, pulling a notebook out of her bag, along with a pen, with the intention of taking notes. She didn't. She pulled her BlackBerry out of her bag, double-checking to make sure it was on silent, before texting her band mate (and best friend...well, post-Martin), Ross.

There's a reason why I was tutored on the road. She knew eight twenty was too early to be contacting him; but she knew Ross. Her band was like a family. They would do anything for one another. She was pleasantly surprised when he texted her back so quickly. She thought he would still be sleeping.

You're dead. It's before 11. What's wrong?

She shook her head, smiling slightly. Don't look so happy to hear from me there, buddy! First day not going so well. Save me? She set her phone back in her lap and started doodling, ignoring Mr. Holtman's lecture on how they would be discussing the Civil Rights Movement for the majority of the semester. She was a very patient person with everything, minus one: she hated when someone took an exuberant amount of time to text her back.

Suck it up, kiddo. Seen Martin yet? Haha! ;)

She scoffed; he was the only one in the band that knew of their long and complicated past. She didn't doubt he would bring it up; he wasn't exactly subtle. Asshole. And yes.

“Ms. Hensley?”

She looked up from her phone. “Yeah?”

Mr. Holtman walked over to her desk and towered over her, crossing his arms. “Did you not bother to read the school's code of conduct between tour stops?”

“Actually, no. Between the partying and drinking, there's not a lot of time,” she muttered, sarcastic. “You know, along with the fact that until sixteen hours ago, I didn't know I would be here.”

Mr. Holtman frowned. “Well, let me sum it up for you. We have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to cell phones in class.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. And?”

He stuck out his hand. “Hand it over. You can get it in the office at the end of the day.”

She scoffed. “I don't think so.”

“Ms. Hensley—“

“No, you're not touching my phone,” she told him. “It's my property. And if I decide to use it during the day for business reasons, I'm going to do just that.”

“Then you'll be spending a lot of time in the principal's office. Go there and explain to him your cute little reason for thinking you're the exception to the no-cell-phone rule,” Mr. Holtman said.

“Fine,” Parker said, standing up and gathering her bags. “Your class sucks worse than a Fall Out Boy show anyway.”

“Snip snap,” Martin muttered.

Parker slapped him on the back of his head before smiling at Mr. Holtman. She said nothing else as she walked out of the classroom and to the principal's office.

Martin smiled. “Same old Parker.”

Mr. Holtman cleared his throat, staring down at Martin.

He shrugged. “What? Girl's got moxie.”

+

”No, Martin, you're supposed to stand here, okay? The groom stands on the right,” Parker said, picking at a couple of dandelions.

“But why do I have to be the groom?” Martin asked, fiddling with the bow tie around his neck.

“Because, stupid, you're the boy. And boys are the groom,” she told him, holding the dandelions in front of her.

“But I don't even wanna marry you! You're too bossy,” he protested, frowning.

Parker rolled her eyes. “Well, you don't have a choice. We're going to get married and live happily ever aftered and have lots of babies in a big house with a white fence,” she told him. “And you don't get a say in the matter!”

Martin shook his head. “Nu-uh. You can't make me!”

“Yes, I can!”

“You'll have to catch me first, then!” Martin said, laughing, before he took off running around his back yard.

“Martin! Stop running!” Parker said, tossing the dandelions aside. No matter how much her parents tried to refine their little girl into a perfect princess, she always picked the route of tenacious tomboy by the age of seven. The proof in that was how she tackled Martin to the ground, right by his swing set. “Stop running.”

“You didn't even ask me nicely,” Martin said, running a hand through his dark hair.

Parker pouted. “Will you marry me?”

Martin smiled, leaning up and kissing her cheek. “Sure! But I don't want a white fence.”

She stood up and helped him up as well. “What color fence do you want?”

“Red. To match your hair,” he told her, ruffling her hair before he took off running again.

Parker sighed, but she knew she would end up chasing him anyway.

+

“Is it true?”

Martin stumbled slightly, finding himself surprised when his best friend and band mate Paul grabbed his arm as he was walking out of his class. He looked up at his friend and shook his head. “Is what true?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Is Parker back?”

“Oh, that,” Martin said, walking to his locker and opening it. He pulled out his math book, since it was his next class, and sighed. “Yeah, she's back.”

“You don't sound happy. I thought you would be. You haven't seen her in three years,” Paul said, leaning against the locker.

“Yeah, I know. People change in three years.”

“Has she?”

Martin laughed lightly. “Still just as bossy as ever. She got sent to the principal's office because she was on her phone and refused to hand it over.”

Paul smiled. “She always was a stubborn one.”

“Yeah, some things don't change,” Martin said, slamming his locker shut.

“Shit.”

“What?” he asked, looking back at his friend.

Paul nodded down the hallway. “She grew up good.”

Martin followed his friend's eyes and saw Parker walking down the hallway, unperturbed, as if she owned the place—her head held high as she ignored the other high schoolers comments and catcalls. “She barely grew up. She's still as short as ever,” he said.

Paul didn't miss the sharp tone of his friend's voice. “What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he told him. “I'm just tired. I was up late writing a song.”

“Of course you were,” Paul said, nodding. He didn't believe him for a second.

“Hey, babe.”

Martin smiled as his girlfriend, Dallas, walked over to them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her quickly. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Dallas smiled. “Hey, Paul. How are you?” she asked, her Southern accent still prominent even though she'd been in Boston for well over a year.

“I'm good, Dal,” Paul replied, tone clipped and short. “I'm gonna head to class. See you later.”

It wasn't that he didn't like Dallas—he did, she was a sweet girl, but she wasn't Martin's type. Paul held his books to his chest as he walked into his science class and took a seat in the back. He and the rest of the guys (meaning John and Bryan) had been placing bets on how long Martin and Dallas would last—it sounded bad to anyone else but it made sense to them. Martin went through girls like, well, whores went through Johns. It was crude but the truth.

Martin was the type of guy who got bored easily. He would date a girl for a couple weeks, they would be really hot and heavy, then he'd dump her for stupid reasons. Whether it was that he didn't like her curfew, or she watched too many romantic comedies, she read too many books, or he was bored. He saw them as legitimate reasons but his best friends knew otherwise—no one could make him happy.

He had started dating Dallas a week after she moved to Boston. Her father worked for a computer company that was transferred from Nashville to Boston. All the guys tripped over their words in front of her—except for Martin; he was too cool and collected for that. Where the other guys practically drooled over her five foot nine frame, complete with blond hair and blue eyes, Martin chose the route that he knew would make her fall for him—ignoring her completely. They'd been together over two months, which was a record for Martin, and had the rest of his friends at a complete loss.

Dallas since had become a cheerleader (not head cheerleader—she was too modest for that), a member of the National Honors Society, Student Body Secretary, and all around likable girl. Paul, John, and Bryan didn't believe it for a minute—they saw right through her. But they couldn't even bring it up to Martin without him getting irrationally upset and ignoring them for days on end.

“Is it true we have a new girl?” Dallas asked, handing her books to Martin so he could carry them and walk her to class.

Martin nodded. “Yeah.”

Dallas sighed. “That's all we need around here—more drama.”

“Parker isn't the type to cause drama, Dallas,” Martin said.

She sent him a look over her shoulder. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I've known her since I was five,” he told her. “We grew up together.”

“Well, in my opinion, anyone who thinks they're good enough to just be home-schooled and travel the world in a 'band' is going to cause drama. I bet she thinks she's above the rules here,” Dallas said. “And if that's the case, me and the girls will bring her down a peg or two.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “She doesn't think she's better than anyone. And you don't need to teach her anything,” he said, growing agitated. He knew people would assume things about Parker but he didn't think they'd take it so far. But then again, he didn't know why he was defending her. They were strangers now.

Dallas shrugged, stopping outside her class. She leaned up and kissed him quickly, ripping her books out of his hand. “Save me a seat at lunch,” she told him before walking into her class.

Martin sighed, shaking his head. He started walking to his next class and saw Parker leaning against the lockers, watching him. He stopped walking and just stared at her, refusing to look away first. He didn't know why she was watching him but part of him didn't care. She had a look on her face that he couldn't place—and she had always been so easy to read; the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. The bell rang and Parker scoffed, walking away at a leisurely pace. Martin shook his head and continued on to his class.

For a minute there, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of the Parker he used to know.