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HUDSON

OH, HOW I LOVED LUNA DELGATO. We always engaged in heated exchanges during our mornings. I would upset her just by breathing. And she would retaliate with a verbal rebuttal. It's what made me get out of bed every morning. However, I'd like to believe she wasn't aware of my feelings. I'd always been gifted at masking them.

I'd been in love with her since the first grade. Our mothers had been best friends since college, which led to our inevitable friendship. I knew she was the one the moment she dug Katie Sanchez's face in a puddle of mud because she made fun of my haircut. My mom thought a week of beauty school would be enough experience to cut my hair herself. She always dabbled in things, but hairstyling was not her forte.

That day, Luna went home and snipped her ponytail off with the first pair of scissors she could find. I could hear her mother's screams from across the street. When we ran over to investigate, we found her mother enraged and red-faced, but Luna greeted us with the widest smile and an uneven haircut. It was then I knew that I'd found someone special. But I messed it up, and I may never have the chance to rectify my mistakes.

I was never one for rules. I'd always believed that rules were society's diabolical way of restricting our individuality. This view has often found me on the side of trouble, but at least I made my own choices, and I would be damned if I let anyone take that away from me.

I clutched the stick of nicotine between my fingers and inhaled the gray stench. The intrusion in my lungs was a feeling I had become accustomed to. Many warned me of my potential deathbed if I continued with the charade, as if that would make me stop.

I glanced around the neighborhood. The silence calmed me. Some detested it and made it their sole mission to pack their bags and get out to live life in the big city. I always thought that to be cliché. Why move where there are more people to detest?

Once my cigarette was nothing but a bud, I trampled it before mounting my motorbike–mine and my dad's special summer project. The engine roared, bringing life to the dead neighborhood. I raced through the streets, attracting attention from onlookers as I maneuvered through the minimal traffic. As I stopped in my usual spot in the school parking lot, more eyes befell me. I rolled my eyes at the tasteless people I go to school with.

I strolled down the hallway and tossed my leather jacket over my shoulder. A group of freshmen parted like waves before me, casting curious glances mixed with a tint of apprehension. Once I approached my locker, I spotted a group of jocks a few feet away. Their booming laughter was obnoxious, especially considering they were laughing at something Austin Chambers said. He needed a personality to be funny. With concealed disdain, I rolled my eyes at their juvenile antics.

"You have a problem, Wilder?"

They caught me. Chambers took my indifference as a challenge and swaggered over to me. His entourage shadowed him. I met his gaze with cool indifference, smirking as I towered over him.

"I'm perfect," I said with a mask of calm defiance. "You seem to have one, jockstrap. "

His arrogant smirk wavered.

"You think you're better than everyone else, don't you, Wilder?" He said, his tone salivating in aggression.

I held my ground, my gaze unwavering. Don't take the bait.

"I don't waste my time thinking about you."

The air between us was static. I grinned as his face reddened with anger. His fists clenched at his sides as his friends egged him on. There was a fire in his eyes as he shoved me with force, sending me tumbling backward. My back hit the metal locker. Now, I was mad. His friends erupted into cheers; their voices echoed off the walls. I regained my balance, my muscles tensed as I prepared to punch him in the jaw. But, as I was about to retaliate, a figure stepped between us, cutting through the chaos. Luna.

"Austin, stop." she said, her voice pleading as she placed her hands on his chest.

His expression twisted with frustration; his anger redirected towards her for intervening.

"Don't get involved, Luna."

I couldn't resist getting involved in their couple's spat.

"That's no way to treat a lady, Chambers."

He lunged for me, but my reflexes were quicker as I dodged his fist.

"Austin, stop it." she demanded.

I smirked as he glared at me over her head, unable to resist provoking him further.

"Listen to your girlfriend, jockstrap ."

" Hudson." My name sounded like poison past her lips. "Stop it."

I raised my hands in mock surrender as I trudged back, bypassing arguing with a dismissive smirk.

"Have a lovely day." I said, picking up my fallen jacket.

"I won't." Jockstrap said with unfiltered aggression.

"I was talking to Luna."

I winked at her in parting, the smile never leaving my face, even when I was out of sight.

?

I had just made it through the doors of the History classroom when Stacy Henderson accosted me. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. She twirled a strand around her finger as she sidled up to me with a coy smile. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Hey, Hudson."

"Stacy."

I sidestepped her, but her reflexes were quicker. She tilted her head, gazing at me from under her lashes.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?"

"Yes."

I wasn't in the mood for her charms. Her advances were relentless. My gaze scanned the room until it landed on a lone figure in the back row. Luna. She focused her attention on a piece of paper on her desk. Her pencil flicked back and forth on it. She always loved to draw. Without hesitation, I approached her, leaving Stacy and her rambling behind. I slid into the seat beside her, flashing her a charming grin.

"What are you drawing?"

Her reaction was less than welcoming as she glanced up with a guarded expression. There was a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, conveying her displeasure with my company.

"Why are you sitting next to me?"

I placed my chin in my hands, my eyes alight with a mischievous spark.

"I believe I asked first."

Her grip on the pencil tightened, but I was determined to break through her icy exterior.

"They're just doodles." She said, her tone curt. "Now that you have your answer, we can stop talking."

I was about to muster a witty remark, but Mrs. Dupont walked in. As the lesson began, the tension between us simmered beneath the surface, a silent reminder of the past that lingered like a ghost in the room.