Remember Last Knight

&knight

I remember the first day I ever laid eyes on Elle Rogers.

It wasn't my finest hour. Boy, it wasn't close to my finest hour. I had been drinking, a lot, celebrating the last of my high school exams at some kid's house. I had just opted out of a game of beer pong, or maybe it was quarters? Well, I had just laid down my cup (theoretically, of course) and was finding a place to chill for a few minutes. The living room was full of bodies, people dancing and playing video games on the kid's XBOX. There were two couches in the room, one being occupied by a drunk, feisty pair, the other by two fairly attractive and tipsy girls from my homeroom class. Who do you think I went to sit beside?

Marie and Hannah welcomed me with big smiles, scooting aside to create a space for me to sit in between them. Hannah immediately rested a hand on my arm, just slightly, grinning at her best friend as she began to talk.

"Happy for exams to be over?" Marie asked.

"Hell yes," I said, way too loud. I caught sight of a few faces turning to stare at us, before turning away. "Now I just have a week and graduation, then I'll be outta here."

"Where are you going?" Hannah asked, her hand gripping my arm slightly tighter.

"Dunno," I said, looking straight ahead, launching into my speech about how I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, as long as I wasn't staying here, in the same town, with the same people I'd known since Pre-K, going to the same places I had for the last 18 years of my life-

Then a crowd of four or five kids walked in, taking in the room, the music, the people. There were two tall girls in front, one standing close to the guy between them, the other already searching for a break in the make-shift dance floor. Behind these three was a boy, looking to be a sophomore or junior, followed by a girl, most likely his sister, seeing as they had the same golden hair.

Their crowd split up, the tall guy and the girl attached to him heading for the kitchen, the other girl heading for the dance floor, the brother and sister falling behind. The two stood facing each other for a moment, the boy shaking his head as she spoke. The more he shook his head, the closer she got to him, the taller she got as she rose on her toes to get in his face. He seemed to shrink in front of her, in front of all of us, before she finally took a step back and he seemed to realize where he was, who was watching, and stood to his full height.

Then, just like that, the brother was gone and she was in my sight. There was nothing blocking my vision; I could see everything there was to see of Elle.

Oh, and this is the bad part. Or the best part. It was love at first sight, sort of. I loved the way she looked. I loved the way I felt in that moment. I loved the ideas that popped into my head without my permission.

"Fuck," I whispered, hissed, somehow. I must have said that, at least, as Hannah repeated me a second later.

"Fuck?" she said, confused, like the word was foreign to her. She seemed to follow my eyes, catch my gaze and my drift, tear her hands from my arm faster than she had latched herself to me to begin with.

"Go talk to her," Hannah said, her voice whiny, annoying, like always.

Then, stupidly, I did just that.

&elle

My first impression of Knight was wrong. So very, very wrong. I had first noticed him when Ayden left for the kitchen (which really meant for a drink.) He had just abandoned his seat with two girls and was now walking in my general direction; he ran the fingers of the hand that weren't clutching that notorious red cup through his hair, looking across at me. Oh Lord.

I was smart enough to know better than to walk off, or act as if it wasn't me he was looking at. God forbid what kind of charm that could have led on. I could barely handle the way he stood too close and blew his alcohol breath in my face; I wanted to jump him so bad.

"I, uh, saw you giving that kid a hard time," he said, looking over my head once, before back down at my face. "What was all that about?"

"My brother," I told him, taking one step closer to him. "Knows how to drink. When he gets started, there's no stopping him. Unless he is forewarned."

I step back two steps.

"Forewarned about what?" Knight asks.

"That I'll kick his ass."

On first instincts and impressions, I had figure Mr. Knight Drunk-a-Love-a-Gus to be just that. Drunk, cocky and touchy. I soon learned that he was stupid and couldn't take a hint; he couldn't even whiff out the trail if it smelt of bacon and angus beef.

For the next thirty minutes I endured painful conversation with this boy, continuously backing up, pressing forward, trying to find space. I listened to him bitch every five seconds about not having any drink left in his cup, though he wouldn't leave me for the kitchen for a refill. I sat through torture for what felt like hours before I spotted my brother a few feet off from me, cup in hand, cell phone pressed to his ear. Knowing that this was even more disastrous than standing here, I walked toward him, not caring enough to excuse myself.

That was when Knight reached out and grabbed my arm.

That was when I knew for sure that Knight was dumber than I ever thought imaginable.