A/N: Second Jonnor fic, yayyy :3

Okay, lets get one thing straight: I, Jude Jacob, was undeniably, a loser. It wasn't like I didn't try, I did, I really did. But being cool just wasn't something that had ever worked well for me. However, being completely lame was what I did best; I rocked it with a fierce passion. And everybody knew it. I was the clumsy kid that tripped over my own feet in the hallway at school and dropped all my books. I was the shy kid that stuttered and fumbled over every word I said while giving oral reports in class. I was the kid that nobody bothered to talk to because most of the time I got so nervous around people that I talked way too much.

I liked to think that it wasn't my fault, but come on, it totally was. There was no one to blame except my own sorry ass. I was a sixteen year old virgin who's best friend was my sister. Just how pathetic was that? I normally didn't complain, I mean I did have it better than a lot of other people, but god damn what did I have to do to get an actual life? Maybe some friends? A real family?

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade Callie for the world, but sometimes I just wished my parents were still here. If they were, maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe then I wouldn't be so unbearably...lonely.

I knew that I always had Callie to talk to, but more often than not, she could be a little...overprotective. If I so much as said a kid at school tripped me, she would be up at the high school in a heartbeat. It's not like I could really open up to her. She'd probably get all worried. I didn't like to worry her. She had enough of her own problems already; like trying to make enough money to feed the both of us and pay our apartment's rent. I'd just gotten a job at the local grocery store, so I was hoping it would take some pressure off of Callie, but she insisted that the money was my own and she would manage our rent and food. I'd complained at first, told her she shouldn't have to work two jobs just so I wouldn't starve. She'd told me it was fine, that she was fine. But she wasn't. She came home every night at nearly two in the morning and had to get up at seven to take me to school because we only had one car and we lived too close to my school for me to ride the bus.

I could tell she was tired. Really tired. And I felt like such an ass for keeping the money I was making to myself, but what was I supposed to do? She refused to accept it. Said that I would need it for college. College. I didn't even know if I was going to college. How could I leave her here like that? Go off to college, be successful, while she was working half-assed jobs because she didn't even have a high school diploma? I wasn't sure if I could ever leave her. Yes, she could really piss me off sometimes; always asking if I'd made any friends or if I was okay, and who the fuck cared if I was okay because my petty problems were nothing compared to all she's ever done and still doing for me. But she was my sister and I loved her like crazy.

There was something remarkably special about Connor Stevens. He was a boy full of wonder in the eyes of, well, me. You see, I met him before first period on a rainy Tuesday. I was already in a bad mood because I'd nearly been in a fight with a frigging homeless guy on my way back from work. I was tired and I still had homework and it was getting dark and this guy, with long straggly brown hair walked up to me.

"Got any spare change?" He asked me gruffly, his voice hoarse from all the smoking he probably did.

I had tried to just walk away, I didn't want to waste any time, my homework wouldn't get done by itself, and lord knows I wasn't the best at school. But he'd grabbed me roughly by the collar of my shirt and repeated, in the same ill-natured tone, "Got any spare change?" My eyes widened as he kept me in his surprisingly strong grasp. I was rather stunned. I tried to speak, say something like "No, sorry." or even "Get your dirty hands off me." But I just stood there. Frozen in fear like the wimp I effortlessly was.

His grip on me tightened when I didn't answer and he leaned so close to me, I could smell his sour breath and stench of a man who hadn't showered in who knows how long. "Eh?" He grunted.

Again, I didn't move. Fucking idiot, I repeated over and over to myself in my head. Why wouldn't I do anything?

"Do you hear me, boy?" He started to shake me, and my body moved back and forth in a harsh manor.

And then I said it. Opened my idiot mouth and said, "Get the fuck away from me, you dirty pig."

His eyes hardened and he let out something along the lines of a hiss. He pushed me, hard, and I fell to ground. He gave me a good kick to the stomach, and stalked off. Maybe I deserved it, because who the hell was I to say that to him? Even if he was kind of a dirty pig? I'd laid there for a minute or two, before I finally got up and staggered home. I put ice on the bruise, and it didn't look too bad.

So naturally I was pissy, and it was very evident. And then, of course, Jeremy comes around the corner. He smirks when he sees and me and the only thing that resisters in my brain is; oh shit.

"Hey, Jude." He snarls nastily.

I shut my locker and try to walk away, fast, but I'm not fast enough. He grabs my arm and twists me around. "Aren't you going to say hi?" He asks sharply, his nails digging into my arm.

"H-hi." I squeak out.

"It's been awhile, huh?"

Which was true. The last time he'd beaten me up was about a week ago. I'd been avoiding him, and it seemed as if my luck of not running into him had fallen short.

"Uh..." Is the only thing I mutter.

He raises his other hand to punch me, and I close my eyes, waiting for the blow that doesn't come. When I open my eyes, Jeremy is on the floor. On top of him, is someone else. Something like a knight in shining armor, he holds both of my bully's clenched fists with what seems like zero to no effort.

"Who the hell are you?" He spits out.

But the boy doesn't answer. Instead, he says, "Who the hell are you to even lay a finger on that kid?"

By now there's a small crowd surrounding us. But nobody makes a move to break up the fight. Probably too in shock. No one messes with Jeremy.

Then he pins Jeremy's hands to the floor and presses his knee into Jeremy's gut. Jeremy howls in pain.

"Now, you gonna stay away from that kid, alright?" He says.

Jeremy just nods, and the boy gets up. He turns around and looks at me. He's unmistakingly...gorgeous. Dark blonde hair that's a cross between a surfer's style and a punk rocker. An adult would probably say he needs a haircut, but I would say he definitely worked it. He had light hazel eyes framed by thick lashes, and a slight tan even thought it was November and it was freezing outside. His muscles were obvious under his thin t-shirt. Okay maybe hot was a better word to describe how he looked.

Either way, I stood there with my mouth agape, staring at this god and this god was smiling at me.

"You okay?" He asks, and Jeremy is still whimpering. By now, one of his buddies had found him and was helping him up. How hard had he kicked him?

"F-fine..." My voice comes out in a quiet whisper. "What you just did was...amazing!"

He chuckles. "Anytime he gives you a hard time, just come to me, you hear?"

"O-okay..." I'm pretty sure I'm smiling like a complete idiot.

Jeremy and his friend shoot me daggers as they walk down the hall, away from us.

"I'm Connor, by the way." He sticks out his hand for me to shake.

I do. It's larger than my hand and it feels...warm. I hold his hand for a little longer than necessary.

"Jude." I say.

"It was nice meeting you, Jude. See you around some time?"

"Y-yeah..."

He shoots me another winning smile and jogs away from me.

Connor. My knight in shining armor.

A/N: Ayee there Jonnor fans, first chapter DONE. I'll still be writing Scared, along with this story. Hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to leave a review :)