To Die For

Prologue

Meet Eaving

Fact: Eaving Lee was seventeen years old. She was decidedly single. She was not interested in the opposite sex. And no, she did not have lesbian tendencies.

As Eaving looked down at her opponent, a lanky football player with hazelnut-brown hair and blue eyes, she realized one of two things: that he had been suspiciously sneaking up on her, and that she had had no choice but to swing around with a kick to his chest that sent him sprawling onto the ground. The second thing, which she had failed to realize, was that he sat behind her in English class, loved her beautiful dark, long hair and was just about to ask her to the homecoming dance when she very effectively cut him off.

"Why did you follow me home?" She snapped, cutting off his circulation by straddling his chest. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed dangerously. "Say something."

"I—I can't," he choked.

It was a pretty day in autumn, splashed with bright hues of reds, orange, and yellows swirling with one another, offsetting the blue-opaque sky, and creating fiery hairstyles for treetops that would otherwise be green and boring. Hollyfield in Corpus Christi, Texas was a suburb like no other in that it had lush, visually appealing arboreal landscapes, a wonderful lake, and an overwhelmingly peaceful atmosphere. It was cozy and quaint, charming even. Everyone was polite and serene, and occasionally there was that certain gentleman with a southern, Texan drawl.

It was also home to one very violent and very temperamental Eaving Lee, who was currently on top of a 6'4" and 160 pound body, suffocating said muscular body to death, even though she herself was only 5'2" and 110 pounds.

"Did you think I was easy?" She demanded, pushing her knee harder against his clavicle. Blue was a fascinating color on him, Eaving thought to herself. "Well, did you, you punk?"

"Ho-Ho—"

"Oh, you thought I was a 'ho, you asshole?"

Eaving roughly grabbed him by the hair. "Say that again, jerk."

"Home—"

"Yeah, I bet you want to run home now, don't you?" Her lips unmercifully twitched upwards, amusement dancing in her light brown eyes. "Little sissy," she spat.

"No!" He coughed. "Home…homecoming. Dance." Some more wheezing.

"Homecoming? What kind of a—oh!" Eaving's eyes widened, and she scrambled off of the boy, dusting off her jeans and readjusting her scarf.

After running a hand through his perfect mane of brown hair gingerly and glancing at her warily, he said, "Bobby. I sit behind you in English?"

Eaving's eyes were discouragingly vacant.

Bobby sighed. "Quarterback for the football team?"

A gust of wind fell upon them, trying to fill the awkward silence.

Another sigh. "I was trying to ask you to the dance…"

She opened her mouth, to say something, but he beat her to it. "But actually—now that I think about it, I totally forgot about this thing…"

"…Thing?" Eaving echoed, raising a single dark brow at him.

"Yeah, thing…that I was supposed to be doing that day." He gave her a sheepish look. Eaving rolled her eyes. "Sorry—bye!"

He literally ran away. As Eaving watched his retreating back, arms crossed, she thought of three things. One, that if she had gotten a closer look, she would have been able to see a tail tucked nicely between his athletic legs. Two, she hadn't even gotten chance to apologize for almost incapacitating him.

And three, that was why she was seventeen years old, decidedly single, and not interested in the opposite sex. And no, she did not have lesbian tendencies.

Author's Note: a totally revised version of a story I had been working on, To Die For. I had posted this under a different name, once, but I decided to completely rewrite it. It still has the same, basic concept/plot as before, but if you recognize this story, you will see that this version is very different. The first chapter should come out after thanksgiving break or so.

Until next time & with love,

E. Swanne