A Wise Girl

A wise girl kisses but does not love, listens but doesn't believe and leaves before she is left.

In all honesty, it is so fucking ridiculous that a girl like me can quote Marilyn Monroe. She was famous, loved, feminine and a complete sex symbol. I however, was a token boy. Just one of those girls who everyone presumed was secretly hiding a penis under her skirt. Other than the fact that skirts were repulsive and I could never seem to make myself wear one, I was just "one of the guys." I wasn't exactly queen bee, surrounded by a million worker bees just waiting to mate, but I wasn't Rebecca Black repulsive either. I've had my share of romances, a small amount of experience and without one doubt in the world; I was content with them. I didn't feel the need to find that one guy that would fight till his very last breath for me and I knew that I did not want some sweetheart to make me feel like I wasn't worthy of his perfectness. I was content with being sufficiently alone. There was nothing that screamed at me telling me that something was missing in my life and I was happy. I didn't need anyone to fill a void that was left by my father or brother or anything like that. I didn't hold any resent towards them for staying back in Australia. I was happy here with my mother and I was loving it. In fact for the first time in my short existence I felt free.

Other than the excruciatingly obvious fact that, as a foreigner to this place; I stuck out like a big, red, newly hammered throbbing thumb: I was happy with the progress I had made. I had myself a close group of friends that I was more than happy to acknowledge as my extended family. The town seemed to be fascinated with me, examining me like an infant does with a new toy on Christmas morning, happy and delighted to have yet another thing to play with. I was strange and peculiar to them, something alien and absurd. I had an accent that, to them, was endearing and my overly laid back nature almost made me impossible to hate. In fact, I cared so little that some people had began to assume I was incapable of any emotion other than indifference.

I have my quirks, I really do. My laugh when I'm genuinely happy is a giggle. I cringe away when I see sappy things. I make weird noises when I'm being tickled; no joke I sound like a skittish baby. I can't remember band names or song names but I can sing along to the songs. I spend my weekends watching dorky movies or horror films. I quote sci-fi movies and band members regularly when I talk and most people don't get it. I never blush. I always have warm hands. Sometimes I stick my tongue out when I concentrate. The point is that I'm weird, I'm not perfect and I'm happy with that. I was happy with where my life was at, quirks and all.

"Atlanta! We need you over here dude." My head snapped up at the call of my name and I sent a lopsided grin at a few of my friends. They had managed to, once again, do something ridiculous. I watched in amusement as Dumb impatiently tugged at Dumber's leg. They had managed to get trapped under one of the family sofas and were mid struggle of trying to escape from under the deathly weight of the lounge that Elliot and Gabe were sitting on. Actually, the word jumping comes to mind when I see what those boys were doing on the sofa, treating it like a jumping castle at a kid's play land and delightedly laughing at their fellow teammates' pain.

Bran, who I had labelled as Dumber, was hissing and clawing away at the sofa, his light hair falling into his face, tossing about ridiculously in time with his thrashing to escape. His twin brother was more relaxed, just laying still and giving Elliot a look that would kill. For twin brothers the two could not be any more different. Bran was pale with light hair and light eyes that almost looked like the sky in the middle of a snow storm. He had this constant tinge of pink across his cheeks, splashed and sharing the surface with the few scattered freckles. His long limbs stretched out, coated in that pale skin and muscle that was neither too large nor nonexistent, I'd seen girls turn to jelly in his presence. He was the complete and infallible image of the Aryan race. He had angular features that made him look strong and manly but at the same time, there was this constant joy that oozed from him, it was magnetic. His smile was contagious and his laugh sent tingles down your spine, warming you up, because that's just the kind of guy that Bran was.

Blay, however, was the complete opposite. He had dark features that ranged from his caramel skin to the raven hair that fell was cropped short. His dark eyes looked almost pitch black, no pupils, but when you looked close enough you could see these little flecks of golden coloured warmth, like sand at dusk. His features were just as angular and limbs just as long, however he emanated this feeling of pure mischief. You could see it rolling around his body like this thick presence that recoiled off him and left you speechless. He was danger and there was nothing that could stop the draw that you felt to him. The first time I met Blaydon Jenkins I literally scoffed at how cliché he was. He was tall and broody and he had this smirk plastered on his face that made me want to rip his face off. But as I said.; I was not your average girl.

"Tuesday, dot make me bring out the big guns, I swear to god I'll tell them what happened last winter." I didn't react to the threat; not really caring if anyone knew, but my eyes fell on Elliot who looked at me with his big honey brown eyes that practically screamed vulnerability and I couldn't help but recoil slightly, stopping to give Bran the harshest look I could muster.

"You, sir, are a real cunt." I hissed. Getting up from my place at the armchair next to the sofa that they were trapped under, dragging my feet against the soft carpet of the Jenkins' living room, refusing to look away from the Devil who was smirking at me. It was moments like these where I questioned whether or not I was a psychopath: Images of me killing Bran in multiple ways flashing through my mind.

"Don't use that word here; you're not in Australia anymore." Gabe chastised me as he looked at me with bulged eyes. I had long since realised that although that word, back home in Australia was trivial and held no great impact, here in the states the word was like screaming Voldemort's name out in Hogwarts. I could never understand what was so insulting about being called a vagina. When you think about it, each and every one of us came out of one.

I chuckled and looked pointedly at the pair on the lounge, ordering them with me eyes, more so focusing on Gabe's dark brown eyes, not quite being able to bring myself to make eye contact with Elliot just yet. "Get off then you two!" I demanded as I shooed them off the sofa, smiling endearingly at them. They were like the brothers I never got to have. I truly was fond of them.

"What exactly happened last winter, Atlanta?" Elliot teased. I could hear the smirk in his worst, still refusing to make eye contact with his, I stayed silent and took the time to look down and kick Bran on the shoulder. He gave me a half hearted sheepish grin and mumbled a small apology. I mentally debated whether it was worth keeping the secret but eventually decided I could see no harm in it.

"I had a little fuck session with Dumber over there and deeply regretted it for the rest of that holiday season." I shrugged off nonchalantly. It really wasn't a big deal, I mean all of the boys had, without a doubt, had their own one night stands with no strings attached. I don't understand why it was so odd for a girl to do so. Gabe chocked on his own saliva, attempting to process the new information. I finally grew the balls to look up at Elliot and he threw me one of his trademark smirks, completely void of any emotion. I hated it when he did that. It made me want to take a hammer to his skull.

"Tuesday and Brandon, huh?" Elliot gave me this exhausted look that I returned with a sheepish shrug. I couldn't changed what happened and I really didn't want to. He would have to deal with it. I averted my eyes, hoping that none of the others noticed our little exchange, relaxing when all the attention was on Bran.

"In our defence she had literally just moved here, I met her at Millie's asked her if she was new to down and she said my accent was 'bloody hot.'" He mumbled, doing a pitiful attempt at my accent as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his cheeks turning a tint of pink.

"You followed me around for a week, Bran. Like a fucking lost puppy and I nearly killed you." I teased him, somehow not finding any of this embarrassing. It was in the past. I remembered that he had bought me flowers and he even gave me chocolates offering to help me settle into the new town. It was sweet, but he became over bearing and I threw a vase at him, luckily it did not shatter until it hit the floor after bouncing off his shoulder.

"How was I supposed to know you were more of a man than me?" He snapped back in embarrassment. The boys chuckled, finding this all very amusing. Except for Elliot who sat there looking at me, watching my reaction, waiting for emotions to dance across my face. I stayed cold, draining any emotion from my face, forcing a small smile to pull at the corner of my lips.

"Wait... You came to America and fucked a guy for having and America accent? And this guy just so happened to be my clingy as fuck dumb assed twin? Where the fuck was I?" Blaydon questioned, pointing at his twin brother in disbelief, earning him a punch in the shoulder, as they now sat on the floor facing me, before turning to me for answers.

I shrugged it off. "Started the experience with a bang. Either way, Blay; you're not really my type. I'm more of a boy next door kind of girl." I gave him a playful wink as he cocked an eyebrow at me, not believing that anyone of the female species could resist all that was Blaydon Jenkins.

"Was she good?" I gawked at Elliot unable to comprehend what led him to asking this. The asshole knew damn well from firsthand knowledge what I was like in bed. I mean, really? Jealousy was such an unflattering look on him. We'd been at our little game of poker for almost two months now and I had assumed he was accustomed to my ways of not getting attached, but here he was, paying the asshole jealous type trying to get at my nerves.

"Amazing. Holy fuck she's flexible." Bran was not as observant as I was. Blay gave this grunt of disbelief and disappointment, flicking his eyes between his twin and I. I gave him a half hearted smile.

"Why you!?" A small grunt of agreement game from Blay and I stifled the urge to throw a chair at him. I glared at Elliot hoping to God that he understood that I just needed him to shut up. He needed to grow the fuck up; instantly.

"I dunno, but I swear to God I couldn't walk-"

"Okay kids, that enough talking about it." I mumbled as I kicked at the carpeted floor in slight discomfort. Blay looked at me in frustration, treating the situation as though I had just turned off the TV in the middle of his favourite program. I wasn't shy when it came to sex. I mean, why should I be shy? It was natural, I was a teenager and my urges were just as strong as any other. I just thought that it was something private, personal almost. I mean, sure it was unavoidable but there are definitely some details that remained you little secret to share.

"Lunch is on me, El you're with me; come on." I piped up as I started to head for the front door. The twins' house had become a second home to me and I knew here everything was located. After throwing the vase at Bran we instantly became friends, he had laughed the events off as I apologised repeatedly for being so violent. It was his good nature that made us click instantly. He introduced me to Blay later after that and we seemed to have this detrimental relationship where we were always at each others throats. When school started up, I was instantly accepted into their clique which is where I met Gabe and Elliot and that had been almost a year ago.

I stepped out into the autumn afternoon, pulling Blay's beanie over the tips of my ears, hastily swiping away at the locks of red hair that flew into my face. Elliot took stride beside me, his broodiness evident as he remained silent for a few seconds.

"So Jenkins, Day... Really?" I glared at Elliot as he gave me a scowl that I really was not bothered to cope with today. He and his stupid nicknames were starting to get at me and I was well prepared to give it to him for calling me Day. Of all things to call me!

"What's it to you, Murphy?" I hissed at him as I grabbed my keys from out of my pocket, the small key-chain that Gabe had given me dangling, the feathers dancing in the wind causing the small dream catcher to flutter around. He had given it to me on my birthday and it was honestly the most perfect and thought through gift that anyone had given me. Elliot snatched the keys from me and began to walk towards my old beat up Ute, slightly ahead of me.

Elliot was tall and slender, not exactly built with muscle but he was strong enough to hold his own. His long limbs were wrapped in pale skin that looked as though it had been deprived of the sun. His light brown hair flicked around his face, curling oddly away as though it was avoiding his face. It was shaggy and longer than most and it always looked unruly and casual. His nose came out in a straight, perfect line, with a jaw line that was so angular it could cut. He had high cheek bones that were generally drained of colour unless something or someone had successfully made him blush. Elliot was a swimmer and he was one of those boys that everyone loved, his personality a healthy balance between the twins, actually.

When I first met Elliot he was the most welcoming person I had ever met, taking me under his wing and treating me like a little sister, going out of his way to help me out with something or to taunt me about something that was of no particular importance. He made me feel comfortable and safe and he was just an all round guy. So when what happened between us happened I never really thought twice about it. Being around Elliot was natural and I didn't have to worry about him not getting it. He knew me well enough to know it wasn't a serious matter and we both seemed to accept that. But lately he's been acting more possessive and at first i chalked it down to him being protective and not wanting anyone to take advantage of me, but eventually it became clear that his possessive action was, to be put simply, him being a possessive twit and reading too far into what happened between us.

Naturally on the car ride here after I picked him up (the break system in his was currently being replaced) I proceeded to clarify that things between us were getting too serious and that we needed to take a break. He seemed calm enough about it, answering with nonchalance that annoyed me to no end because I knew damn well that he wasn't actually feeling that calm. Of course, me being me decided to let it drop, it was not my business to pry. He's been scowling at me since.

"You really going to play that card, Tue?" He grunted, trudging a hand through his dark hair. I scowled at yet another one of his nicknames. I could never understand why he just refused to call me by my name. Tuesday Atlanta. Simple as that. I didn't mind it when Blay called me Tee, that nickname was more endearing and cool that the assortment that Elliot had pulled out of his ass, in fact I quite liked Tee. It was simple.

"Yes, I am. Don't see how it's any of your business, mate." I hissed back before opening the passenger door to my rusty, once orange car.

Hands were suddenly on my waist as he pulled me towards him, turning me around to face him in the process. I glared up into his honey coloured eyes and scowled at him. His eyebrows were knit together and he was staring back at me, this look of complete frustration knotted into his features, I almost felt bad but I couldn't really do much to help him. He knew what he was getting into when it started.

"Fuck, I don't know how you do this to me." It was a statement, more so to himself than to me. I shot out my hand and placed it on his cheek my fingers caressing his thick locks, just behind his ear. He leaned into my touch and sighed, shutting his eyes. I cared about this boy. He was my friend and he was there when I needed someone. He didn't deserve this. He deserved better.

"Elliot..." His eyes snapped open and he looked at me as I withdrew my hand, he looked calm as he raised an eyebrow at me, but I could see it there. The hurt. It was buried, but it was still there and it killed me. So the events that proceeded were almost shocking, even to me. I wrapped my arms around and him and pulled him in for an embraces.

I, Tuesday Atlanta; was hugging Elliot Murphy. I don't do hugs. They were oddly intimate and it made me uncomfortable so I usually avoided hugging. I'm not sure if it was the fact that for one moment in time your heart was pressed up against someone else's and that was too intimate or if it was the fact that in that moment of time you could be rendered completely defenseless, but hugging always put me on edge.

He froze for a second before he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in, nestling his head in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply like he was trying to memorize my scent. I finally managed to relax as I rested my head on his chest listening to the fast beating of his heart. It had a calming effect on me, it's continuous beat just repeating reliably as his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He was warm and familiar and comforting, it shocked me but I liked it. I liked hugging. Who would have thought? I adjusted my hands so there were at the nape of his neck , playing thoughtlessly with the hair that curled there; what happened next scared me so much that I flinched away from the embrace. His heart skipped a beat.

That's fucking right. It skipped a mother fucking beat.

Shitting bricks.

It was safe to say I was shitting bricks.

Elliot fucking Murphy's heart just skipped a fucking beat.

For me.

I was currently the definition of screwed.