Don't Give up on Me

Zacky POV

"Son of a bitch, how in the fuck is this even acceptable to assign to students?" Andi groans from the bar stool beside me. I'd known this girl for hardly two days and she's already grown on me. If she were anybody else, I was sure I would have ditched her and instead went to my friend Matt's house or something.

But God, this chick was hot. Her fiery red hair matched the intensity of her personality. She was the embodiment of the reason why girls needed curves; it was like heaven looking at her. And those damn dance pants she wore... they'd be the death of me, I swear.

She flips her hair out of her blue eyes and locks them with mine, narrowing them slightly. "Stop staring at me, you creep."

I laugh, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment for getting caught looking. "Well, we've been doing this chemistry crap for two hours. I need to see something other than chemical formulas," I reply with a wink, making her attractively pale cheeks turn pink.

I look around the kitchen, my eyes stopping on a medium sized painting above her small eat-in table. A skull was dead center, though from the cheekbones on it seemed to bleed long, lazy streaks of red. It looked awesome, the background void of any color, completely white while the skull was various shades of gray.

"Who painted that?" I ask, ignoring the chemistry homework.

"I did," she answers quietly. "It won 1st place at State for UIL Art last year. Well, technically it got a 4, but still."

"That's awesome," I tell her sincerely, to which she shrugs.

"I'm really not that great," she shakes her head, sliding off the bar stool and moving to her refrigerator to refill her glass with lemonade. "I don't even know why I'm in Art II."

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure you're not half bad, Andi. Why so hard on yourself?"

"Because I suck," she says in a matter of fact tone, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. "Not everyone can be a Picasso or Raphael."

"Maybe you're just being too hard on yourself," I murmur. I'd noticed quite a few things about Andi in these two days. She obviously had some kind of pent up anger towards something- I couldn't pinpoint it though. She talked about her dad, but not her mom; she wasn't too fond of her older brother either. Whenever someone mentioned something about family, her eyes seemed to grow cold or water, sometimes doing both.

She didn't think I noticed the faint white lines on her left wrist. They were just healed enough to blend into her pale skin, but coming from a guy that knew what self-harm looked like firsthand, I knew what they were upon instinct. Something obviously troubled her, and I wish I could find out what exactly. I felt inclined to know her, every single thing that I could learn. She fascinated me; I hadn't met any girl like her in my entire life, she was definitely one of a kind. And damn, she was stubborn like no other.

I liked it.

"Who else is going to keep me grounded?" she snaps in a reply, her eyes automatically softening at the realization that she'd been rude. I didn't mind it- she was defensive, so was I. It was a natural reaction.

I shake my head at her. "Grounded is overrated. If Raphael ever stayed 'grounded' he wouldn't of created Madonnas."

Flustered that I was right, she changes the subject. "You don't exactly strike me as the type to actually want to do schoolwork."

"I have to make straight A's this semester so I can get a new guitar," I shrug, reaching towards the seemingly never ending bowl of Hot Cheetos on the counter and chewing a couple.

"Oh yeah, you said something about that yesterday," she says, preoccupied with doodling in the corner of her chemistry worksheet. "You know what? Fuck this, I'll finish it tomorrow."

I laugh. "Are you any good?" she asks, turning around in the bar stool and facing me.

"Mehh." Truth be told, I wasn't as good as Eddie Van Halen. Or Slash. But I didn't exactly suck.

She chuckles as I voice my thoughts. "You should let me hear you sometime. I mean, it'd be nice to see whether or not you're all talk."

"Do you doubt my talent, Andi?"

She shrugs. "You've charmed me so far, who knows. Oh, hi, Dad."

My head snaps to the entrance on the side of the kitchen, a tall, blonde haired man stood in the doorway in an apron. "You know, I can come back, if necessary.."

Andi laughs. "Its fine, Dad. What're you doing home so early?"

"Forgot my wallet," he replies. "I'm Kyle," he waves, addressing me.

"Zacky," I introduce, shaking hands with him.

"Andi, can you unload the dishwasher while I'm gone? I should be home by eleven or so," her dad says after emerging from his bedroom, worn leather wallet in hand.

"No," she says with a serious face. "Just kidding. I guess... but its gonna cost you..."

Kyle smirks. "Fine. Coffee money?"

She taps her finger on her chin. "Yeah, I guess." He hands her ten bucks and shouts a goodbye before leaving just as quick as he came.

"Coffee money?" I only ask. She grins.

"Its the usual trade off. Do a chore, get a grande mocha latte. Works very well," she shrugs, spinning around in the chair.

"If I said that to my Dad, he'd laugh in my face," I reply, chuckling.

"Yeah, but my dad is cool. Well, sometimes." she says, hopping off the chair. "Come with me, I've got something to show you."

I follow her into the box filled garage to another door, where she reaches for a key on top of the trim and unlocks it, revealing a small, dingy yet clean space. Flicking a light on, I see its not much bigger than a small bedroom, with white walls and a small window.

"My dad said this can be my art space. But I don't know... I'm thinking its too plain.." she sighs. "Like if I put some paint on the walls it might work, but that requires work.."

"You're so lazy," I laugh. "But I have to agree, the color needs to change. And you need like, a desk or something to work at."

She brightens at that. "And maybe I should paint two walls red, and one black, and leave one wall white!"

She animated tells me her plans, obviously excited about the possibilities that could come with it. For the first time since we met, it seemed like the tension that I saw seemed to melt away and her blue eyes brightened. I occasionally threw my opinion in when needed, though I had to admit, I enjoyed watching her move from place to place, like a ball of energy.

"And then this can be wallpapered with posters," she finishes with a large smile.

"Sounds awesome."

"Oh, you know it will be," she says cockily. I laugh to myself- she herself said cockiness was unattractive, yet she was the cockiest girl ever. Walking contradiction, I tell you.

She walks into the living then, laying on the brown leather couch, her body only taking up two of the three cushions. I sit beside her, putting my feet up on the coffee table.

"So, Zacky," she says, her full attention on me. "Are you in a band?"

I took a deep breath. Here goes. If I scare her off, at least I got to talk to her. "Yeah, its called- okay, you promise not to laugh?"

"Pinky swear," she half smiles, sitting up to link her dainty pinky finger with mine.

"Okay, its called Mad Porno Action, and we ha-" I begin, but she doubles over in laughter.

"That's the best fucking band name ever! How did you say that so casually?" she laughs, her face in her hands.

"You promised not to laugh!" I protest, jokingly pouting.

"I'm sorry, I'll stop, I promise," she says in between laughs. I stubbornly shake my head and say no, that it wasn't important anymore.

"What? You can't start a story like that and not finish it!" she protests. "I'm reallllly sorry for laughing, please continue."

I shake my head stubbornly, reminding me of what happened earlier today.

"I'm not gonna beg you. I have more pride than that. Your story seems boring anyways," she shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen, bringing back the bowl of chips and her lemonade before turning on the tv and sitting down.

"You like South Park?" she asks, scrolling up and down the tv guide. I ignore her, pretending to be preoccupied with texting Matt back.

"Don't be a dick, I will kick you out of my fucking house if you keep ignoring me," she finally snaps. Ahh, pissing her off was so much fun. And the way her face looked? Priceless.

"Are you really sorry?" I ask, looking over at her for the first time in five minutes.

"I guess," she replies stubbornly.

"Good enough for me," I finally say, making her laugh.

I didn't know what it was about this girl, but I HAD to make her mine. If I let her get away, I would regret it for the rest of my life.