Young Love

“Well hello Miss. Misty, how are you today?” Paul grinned cockily at Misty, his eyes as mischievous as always.

“What do you want?” She asked, not in the mood for him today.

“I can’t just say hello?”

“Not without wanting something in return.”

This was Paul. He always wanted something, whether it was Misty doing his homework or covering for him when he stayed out partying, he knew she couldn’t say no when people asked for things and he used it to his own advantage. He laid down in front of her on the sidewalk as she adjusted her camera lens.

Misty sighed. It was obvious she was not going to get her art project done with him here. She doubted he would let her get any of the things she needed to do finished. Her fingertips traced a crack in the sidewalk.

“Just tell me what you want,” Misty groaned.

“Hang out with me.”

“Why?”

“You seem stressed,”

He had an alternative, he always did. She had known him for longer than she could remember and he never wanted to do something nice, without something in return. She gave him a hard look and pushed herself to her feet.

“I am not stressed.”

Paul was standing now too, rubbing her stiff shoulders, “Yes you are,” He drawled, “Don’t lie, lying is a sin.”

She grit her teeth, “Shut it Paul, I’m not stressed. Get out of my face.” She moved her shoulders out of his grip.

Chuckling, he followed her as she walked into her house. Waving hello to her mother, who seemed all too pleased to see him, he trailed Misty up the steps and into her room. Everybody liked Paul. He was charming, he was good looking, and he was annoying.

Misty must have been one of the only people who didn’t like him. She saw the real Paul Brookes. The Paul Brookes that seduced and smoked and partied. It all disgusted her. He disgusted her. Right down the tattoos permanently inked on his body. He was the epitome of all that she never wanted in a guy. Not that either of them thought of each other as more than acquaintances.

She slid on her slippers and one of her dads’ old sweaters and sat at her computer desk. Bringing up Facebook and checking her phone for text messages, she was a sucker for social interaction, except when that interaction involved Paul.

Currently, Paul was looking over her shoulder at her computer screen, “Who is Jeffery?” He asked.

“None of your business.”

“He says he loves you,”

“Well he better!” She exclaimed, texting a quick reply to her bio partner about the lab report due next week.

“Who is he?”

“What’s it matter? People like me, deal with it.”

She was really getting tired of his questions. Why was he suddenly so interested in her life? She spun around in her office chair to glare at him but he just grinned a stomach churning grin.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go somewhere, this is boring.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her out of her bedroom door.

“What makes you think I want to go somewhere? It’s cold outside,” Misty groaned.

“That didn’t seem to bother you when you were taking pictures.”

It was true; nothing affected her when she was doing some sort of photography work. It was like she was in a completely different world. Focused on the way every square inch around her could somehow be beautiful in a photograph. When Paul got impatient with Misty’s lack of movement, he tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. She gasped out of surprise but knew it would be useless to fight him when she would just end up falling.

Paul bounded down the stairs, yelling that he was taking Misty out to do something productive as they passed her Mother in the kitchen. To Misty’s surprise, her Mom agreed. There went her escape plan.

“My coat!” Misty shrieked, feeling the cold wind coming through the front door.

Paul paused for a moment, before juggling her around to take off his own coat and throw it over her. So there was no way she was going to be put down. His shoulder digging into her abdomen was uncomfortable. Her legs were tensed against his chest and she was gripping his shirt as if her life was woven into it.

Then she was in his car. His expensive, most likely stolen, car. Paul sped across the snow covered roads and at every turn Misty’s knuckles turned white on the door. She closed her eyes tightly as they swished around, fishtailing every so often. Misty didn’t want to see the possible items they could slide off the road into.

The car stopped along with Misty’s racing heart and she breathed a sigh of relief. Frigid sea air hit her face as she stepped outside of the warm interior of the car. She tugged Paul’s flimsy leather jacket around her torso tighter, as if it would somehow block out the chilly air.

“Aren’t you cold?” Misty asked Paul, watching him walk towards the cement sea wall.

He was only wearing a sweater and jeans. He shrugged, as if unbothered by the cold. Misty begged to differ. Paul leaned against the wall and gave her a grin.

“Let’s go into the water,”

“What… like a polar bear swim?”

If there was one thing Misty didn’t like, it was the cold, and now he wanted her to strip down and run into the water? No. This was where she drew the line. He could interrupt her photography, stick his nose into her business, and kidnap her but she would not go in that water.

“Naw, I was thinking we’d just stick our feet in.”

Misty looked down to her feet, clad in the pair of slippers she had changed into at home, then back up to Paul with an incredulous look. He wasn’t serious, she would get frost bite, her toes would fall off and she would never be able to walk again.

“Come on,” He smiled, grabbing her arm and dragging her down the snow covered beach to where the water collided with the sand. “Whoever stays in the longest gets whatever they want from the other.”

Paul began to remove his shoes and socks and instructed her to do the same. She wondered if she had a shred of sanity left as she removed her slippers. It was obvious she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be doing this.

The cold water hit her feet and it was like ice entered her blood stream and she wanted to instantly jump out and put her slippers back on. But the stakes were too high; she could tell him to leave her alone. So with determination, she kept her feet still in the freezing water. Misty rid her mind of all thoughts of frostbite and walking on stumps for the rest of her life.

But it all became too much, the cold water lapping at her ankles, her toes slowly losing feeling, and the bite of the cold seemingly eating away at her bones after just barely five minutes. She couldn’t take it anymore! Jumping from the water onto the thin line of sand, she watched as a triumphant grin crossed Paul’s face. He would finally get what he had been wanting.

“There are limi-t-tations t-to t-this,” Misty chattered out, “You, can’t-t rape or murder me.”

Paul’s grin grew wider, “I wouldn’t want to do either of those things.”

Misty bit her lip, now it was too much for Paul. He lifted her so her legs went around his waist and pressed his lips to hers. The cold water forgotten. Misty’s eyes went wide in an instant when her brain finally caught up to what was happening. She didn’t know what to do; her muscles were frozen in shock. She knew she should break away; he was so warm though, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Especially when she was so cold.

This person wasn’t Paul. Gone was the cocky grin and the mischievous glint in his eyes. In fact, his eyes were closed. Misty’s heart was speeding like it had been in the car. She couldn’t tell whether she liked it or felt appalled by it. But she was giving in, slowly but surely.

Well, she supposed, sometimes love is found in odd places.