Prologue: Lonely For Her

All I know is that
I'm so, lonely for her.. for her
Open my window, oh..
I'm ready to live with this
And you walk by my window, oh..
You give me something to miss
White legs to the touch
Why do you hurt me so much?

-Jack's Mannequin

The rain steadily pounded outside the boy's window. He lay silent in the darkness of his room, listening to the muffled snores of his brother coming from the wall behind his head. A stream of light from the flickering streetlamp made a stripe across his bare abdomen. His eyes followed the movements of the ceiling fan as it rotated, over…and over.

The rumble of a car engine pierced through the night's air. He heard it crawl past his house, and then idle at the one next to his. It was her, he was sure of it.

He stiffly got of his bed, wincing as his limbs groaned in protest. He had been even more

aggravated and confused lately, so he ran to clear his mind, but his muscles weren't happy with the miles and miles he forced them to run.

He wiped the condensation that had been forming on his window and looked out the window to the street. Sure enough, the blackness of a car sat in front of the Greene's house. He saw a curvy figure leaning into the driver's side window, obviously giving the driver a kiss. His frown grew more pronounced. He never pegged her for the type to fall for the bad boy. But there she was, necking with Paul Robinson, the schools resident bad ass.

She giggled and stepped away, still holding on to a hand. It tugged her back, so she gave in and allowed one last kiss before stepping away and walking up to her front door. Once inside, the car raced away, tires screeching against the wet pavement.

He tore his eyes away from the now empty street and turned to his other window. It faced her house. Her room, to be exact. The light flickered on and he watched as she carefully shut the door. With a heavy sigh, she leaned against it. He expected her to look goofy, the way she usual did around Paul, but instead, she shook her head sadly and ran a hand over her face.

He knew he should look away. Especially as she undressed. He was being a completely perverted, peeping tom, but he stood enthralled as she turned her back to the window and peeled off her soaked shirt. Her slim hands unclasped the basic white bra and let it slide to the floor. He sucked in a shaky breath at the stretch of pale skin and dark hair flowing over her shoulder. The little knobs of her spine pushed against the almost translucent skin.

The large tee- shirt she pulled over her got stuck momentarily around her head and she tugged on it several times before her head popped out. He laughed then stopped as the sound cut through the silence and the snores faltered before starting up again.

He saw her laughing, too, as she took of her jeans under the shirt. Then she turned around to pull her curtains shut. She stopped, squinting outside. Then she blinked as she saw him. He was caught.

He expected her to look angry, embarrassed, and incredulous. That's what a normal girl's reaction would have been. But she wasn't normal. Her sad face broke out into that half smile she saved, or so he liked to believe, especially for him and mouthed a 'hey'. He mouthed it back. She sat down at her window seat and pressed a hand against her window, smiling at him.

Aislynn, he sighed. Such an unusual but beautiful name. Just like the girl it belonged to. The girl he loved. He wanted so badly to say it, to shout it, but new he couldn't. She was untouchable, even if they did run with the same social crowd. Hell, he was friends with her twin brother. But they didn't seem to…touch. It was like they were always going in separate directions.

But he wanted her. Not just her body. Yes, he wanted that too. Slim neck, full breasts, small waist, and curvy legs. She couldn't have been more beautiful. But he knew that she was more then that. He knew she only went to horror movies because she wanted to seem tough, that she hated losing, and she liked the rain better then the sun. He knew everything and nothing about her at the same time.

Her name escaped his lips once again as he mimicked her position at the window. It was an angel's name. Whenever he heard it, it was like a paean to Aphrodite herself.

Her hand fell from the window and landed in her lap. She was no longer smiling, her usual dreamy look back on her face. Her pink lips parted ever-so slightly and the breath she let out clouded up the window. He wanted her to clear it, so he could see her face again. He wanted so damn baldly to call her his, to kiss her senseless. But seconds later, he was met with darkness once again as her curtains were drawn across the window.