You, to be frank, were a tease. You didn't know you drove boys crazy. You school uniform was a bit too small in all the right places. You were often hiding, terrified by the attention you suddenly got after puberty hit you like a train.
It drove you crazy too. You just wanted to be ignored.
Every day, boys would cat-call you and girls would bully you. To the school, you were a slut. A tease. A whore. Nothing you did was good enough. Even when you ran away from home, leaving your small home to life with your grandparents in the rich part of town, getting a uniform the properly fit, you were still abnormally pretty. Yet, your quiet presence was less noticed. You became happier until someone began leaving roses on your desk. Twelve red roses would be left on your desk in your English class on Monday. Every time, you would glare at the roses before tossing them into the trash bin. Yet it happened every week, like clockwork.
Thankfully, this week you were out of school for Thanksgiving break. It was Monday morning and you decided to go for a quick jog, enjoying the fresh morning air. Humming, you changed out of your pajamas into proper running attire. Then, as you opened your door, putting your ear buds in, you noticed red roses on your doorstep and would sure as hell bet that there were a dozen of them.
You growl, picking them up and walking to the metal bin against the side of your house, you throw them away. Huffing a bit, you turn on your music and take off towards a park near by. You were nearing the park when you saw something red on one of the benches. Curious, you sped up a bit, working to keep your tired legs moving. When you got a bit closer, you saw that the red was another dozen roses. Chuckling in disbelief, you run right past the flowers. Then, you notice single roses lining the sidewalk you were running on, leading to a picnic table with a basket on it and more roses. There at the table, was also a man. Someone you had seen in your classes before. A boy with striking violet eyes and lush blonde hair tied back loosely in a ponytail.
Rolling your eyes, you look to jog past him when he stands, catching your arm.
"Bojour, I am Francis Bonnefoy and you, mon cher, have been teasing me for far too long." he says smoothly. Cringing, you push his hand away.
"I'm sorry if I have been a bother but I don't mean to start a relationship with you, Francis." you reply, flushed with anger. "Now, if you would, I'd like to get back home and take a shower."
"And I'm sorry," he growls slightly, "But I can't let you go that easily."