Some of you might recognize the first part of this as a drabble from 'Testosterone'. I wrote that first, and this came after it.

I should also warn that this is very angry, and very smutty, with gratuitous language. Kiddies beware.

Part One: Fracture

"Excuse me? Hi." Taylor Townsend clasped her hands in front of her and stood, waiting for a reply.

"What do you want?" the boy shot back at her.

"You can't do that here. There's no smoking on school property." She motioned at his cigarette. He took it out of his mouth, looked at it appraisingly, then stuck it back between his lips. The light at the end burned brightly against the dark of the night.

"What are you, the police?" He took a huge drag and blew it out in her general direction. Taylor's mouth went wide at his audacity.

"No, but I could report you," she hissed, indignant. This boy had only been at Harbor for a week, and already he was causing trouble.

"It's not even school hours," he rolled his eyes.

"But it's a school dance, which still makes it official school hours. Look, I really don't want you to get into trouble. I'm trying to do you a favor." She smoothed down her pink plaid skirt, not sure how to deal with him.

He took one last, hard, drag before throwing it to the ground and snuffing it out. He held the breath in for much longer than Taylor thought healthy – not that smoking was healthy to begin with – and then let it out in a huge sigh. "God, I hate this place." He seemed to be talking to himself. Then he started walking towards the door that led into the gym, which happened to be situated behind her. He stopped when he got close to her. "By the way," he rumbled in her ear, his body very close. "I don't need any favors."

She was frozen to the spot, staring straight ahead and not at him: half afraid, half excited. She had never met anyone like him before. He wore a leather jacket, for crying out loud. He stood there, mere centimeters between them, for a few more seconds, his eyes following the curve of her neck and down to the top of her dress. He finally smirked, then went back inside.

When he was gone, she stumbled back against the wall, and pressed a palm to her pounding heart. No. She had definitely never met anyone like him.

"Where'd you go?" Seth asked, hands in his pockets.

"I had to get out of here for a few seconds," Ryan explained. Seth nodded understandingly.

"It is a little…"

"Crushing?" Ryan supplied.

"Crushing in here," Seth agreed. The two boys looked at the overabundance of decorations hanging throughout the gymnasium. Back in Chino all they had ever done was throw a couple streamers over the basketball nets, but here…

"These Newport chicks really go all out," Ryan looked at the huge papier-mâché palm trees lining the space. The students sipped punch out of coconut shells, little umbrella's stuck inside. They all wore bright colors and had leis strung around their necks. He and Seth must be the only people in the room wearing dark colors.

"I wouldn't know," Seth told him, "this being my first extra-curricular school event."

"I can't blame you for staying away," Ryan cringed as a girl near him started talking in pitches that must have been out of human range.

"Are you kidding me?" Seth asked, incredulous. "I always wanted to go." The reason for this chose that moment to walk by them.

"Chino, Cohen," Summer Roberts stood in front of them, coconut in one hand, the other on her hip. Seth stared at the low cut tank top she was wearing, and the short skirt.

"Summer…"

Ryan decided to zone out. He really didn't need to hear Seth get all sappy and pathetic, and Summer laugh and pretend like she didn't enjoy it. He was just scanning the room, looking for something - anything - to interest him, when he saw her. That pushy girl from outside; the bossy one who told him to put out the cigarette.

She was a hot piece of work, though.

His eyes followed her through the crowd. She talked to almost every person she saw, smiling brightly and gesturing emphatically. After a couple of minutes, he figured out the pattern: 'are you having a good time?', 'yes', 'great!'. Next person. Ryan noticed after a while, though, that she never really stopped to talk with anyone beyond that.

"Hey, Chino, I was talking to you," Summer's voice cut into his watching. Turning to face the two, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I asked you if you wanted to come to the real party after this."

"There's a real party?" Ryan asked.

"Duh," Summer said in that tone of voice, like what she was saying was completely obvious. "These school parties are so lame."

"Then why do you come?" he asked, not really caring.

"Because Coop plans them," she explained, sipping her coconut drink.

"Why isn't she here then?"

Summer paused. "I don't know. I think she stayed home to hang with her dad."

"Doesn't she live with him?" Seth interrupted. Summer nodded, shrugging at the same time.

"Are you having a good time?" a cheerful voice cut in. The trio turned towards the girl in pink.

Ryan looked her up and down again, enjoying the way she tensed up. She was pretending like their little episode outside hadn't happened. Fine, he would play along.

"Yeah, sure," Summer waved her hand vaguely at the blonde, not really paying attention.

"Great!" the girl's smile seemed to be permanently plastered to her face. "Keep having fun!" she said brightly, turning to move on to the next group of people.

"Who is she?" Ryan asked. Seth stared at him for a moment.

"Man, I keep forgetting you're really not from here. That's Taylor Townsend, get to know her name, and learn to avoid her."

"Cause she's really weird, and really fake," Summer explained, looking over her shoulder at the girl, who was talking to a new group of students.

"Really?" Ryan asked sarcastically. "People in Newport are fake?"

Seth let out a choked laugh, and Summer glared. "Yeah, well, she's the devil. She pretends to be all nice and everything, but she's really not. Plus, she has, like, no friends. And she really wants Marissa's position as social chair."

Ryan shrugged, "she seems to be doing a good job at it, considering Marissa isn't even here for her own event." Summer opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"Whatever. Wanna dance, Cohen?" She grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him onto the floor, where he stood like an idiot while she moved.

"You should really get more involved," the voice said from behind him.

He was standing in the – cool and deserted – hallway outside the gym doors, taking another break. "Really?" he replied monotonously. "I don't see that happening."

She sighed, and moved to stand next to him. "You're new to this school; you should be making more of an effort to make friends and connections."

"Well from what I hear, you're in no position to make any comment on my friend situation." He waited for the explosion – the intense drama that seemed to accompany all of these Newport girls. It didn't come. He glanced over at the girl and found her still smiling.

"You don't really know anything about me," she replied calmly, looking down at her perfect pink nails.

"And you don't know anything about me," he countered, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. She looked up at him, a polite smile still on her lips.

"Well, I know that you've talked to a grand total of two people – not including me – the entire night. One of those people you live with, and the other you probably wouldn't have talked to if the first one hadn't been there."

"And I know that you've talked to almost every person in that room, but only asked them how their night was. That doesn't really scream 'we're best friends'." He wasn't really sure why he was doing this – trying to compete with her. He didn't really care about her or anything in this place.

"So you've been watching me," she looked up at him. "I really meant for you to get more involved with people in general, not focus it solely on one." She was mocking him, still smiling politely. He wished she would stop.

"Well apparently you've been watching me, to know that I've only talked to two people," he countered. Really, why was he arguing? He should just tell her to shut the hell up and leave him alone. But something about that smile, that polite demeanor, made him want to bring her down. Happy people annoyed him.

"Of course I've been watching you."

Her answer took him off guard. "What?"

She shook her head at him, smile still there. "Please. You didn't think I would let a new student enter my school without observing him, did you?"

"Observing me?"

"Well, I've heard all sorts of interesting rumors about you, Ryan Atwood." He was a little surprised – and annoyed – that she knew his full name. "Car theft, arson, Juvie. I've got to keep tabs on all the students, or else there would be chaos." She turned her head towards the gymnasium, smile turning a little smug now. "I know a lot more about all of them then they could imagine."

"Why?" Why? Why was he even asking? This girl was creepy, and he should just go back inside. But something made him want to stay and find out what she knew.

"Because I need to level the playing field," she shrugged. "They all hate me; it's only fair that I get a piece of them too."

"Why do they hate you?" He really wanted to smoke.

She shrugged again. "Because I do well in school. Because I succeed at almost everything I do." Ryan was sure he should think of her as stuck up, but the way she said these things, it wasn't bragging. It just was. "But I think mostly, it's because I'm not like them. It's the same thing with your friend Seth. Do you think anyone was friends with him before you came? Do you think anyone even talked to him before you came?" she shook her head sadly. "There are a lot of us, Ryan Atwood. The ones you don't see, the ones you don't talk to. We're there, but most of us are too shy to say or do anything about it. I seem to be the only one not letting it hold me back. And that's why people hate me. Instead of being able to ignore me, like they did with Seth, I force them to notice me. So they hate me." She looked down at the floor, breathed deeply, then looked back up. "But I won't hold it against them. They don't know how to be anything different. It's how their parents raised them. It's how their parents were raised, and their grandparents. Newport thrives on hatred and jealousy."

Ryan needed to smoke. Now. His hand was drifting towards the pocket that held the carton.

"If you're going to do that, go out that door," she pointed to a small exit off to the left. "No one ever goes out that way." With that she turned to him, smiled widely, said "have fun at the after party, Ryan Atwood," and then walked away.

She was in some of his classes, always sitting in the first row, always raising her hand and answering questions. He found himself watching her. Often.

He told himself he was just bored during class, but the truth was that he wanted to figure her out. No one with zero friends could be that happy and cheerful all the time. He had tried to glean information from Seth, Summer, and Marissa, but they seemed unwilling to talk about the girl – or unable to. Plus, he didn't want to make them suspicious, so he never asked more than one or two questions at a time.

"You should really learn to be stealthier," she murmured, barely moving her lips. Anyone who saw them would just think the two students happened to be standing next to each other.

Ryan froze. "I don't know what you're talking about." He, too, was barely moving his lips, trying to be inconspicuous.

She suppressed a laugh. "You know perfectly well what I mean. So if you're going to stare at me during classes, you should probably learn to hide it better or people will start talking. You know how they love to gossip."

"Fine. I'll be less obvious," he told her as Seth's car pulled up in front of him. Without another word, he walked to the car and got in, never looking back.

Taylor allowed herself the smallest of smiles.

He was definitely less obvious now. No one would notice that all he did was watch her.

But she knew.

And she let him know that she knew. Sometimes she would turn her head slightly, and smile politely at him. Sometimes she would cross her legs, letting her skirt ride up higher. Sometimes she would run her tongue over her bottom lip.

She knew he was watching.

Ryan got his test back. He wasn't really sure how he kept passing them, considering he didn't even pay attention in class. But he really understood math, so all the staring at her in the world didn't seem to be detrimental.

She passed by his desk on the way out the door. "Congratulations, Ryan," she said politely, as if they had never really spoken before at all.

"Why are we at another one of these?" Ryan asked, bored to death.

"Because Marissa planned it," Seth replied robotically. The two boys stood against the wall of the gymnasium, glaring at the decorations. This one's theme was 'magical evening', so there were unicorns and fairies sprinkled throughout the place. It was sickening, really. "We should go over and talk to them," Seth pointed at Summer and Marissa who stood off in the distance.

"You go, I'll be alright here," Ryan replied, distracted. Seth gave him a strange look, before shrugging and heading towards the dark-haired girl of his dreams.

Ryan looked back at the exit door as it swung shut, the last bit of bright yellow skirt disappearing.

He pushed her roughly up against the brick, ignoring the loud clang as the door shut behind him. He expected her to struggle, but this girl was just so full of surprises. She kissed him back with equal fervor, one hand going to his neck, the other one gripping his hair. She pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders, running her hands down his bare arms.

He growled into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up. He dragged himself away to get some oxygen, gasping for breath. She did the same, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the wall. He took the opportunity to attack her neck, running his tongue from the hollow at the base of her throat to the bottom of her ear. She let out a long moan, and he grinned against her skin. This girl was such a freak.

He should have expected it, really. Anyone that polite and happy all the time had to have some way of letting tension go.

After getting most of his breath back, he went back to her mouth, shoving his tongue roughly against hers. She kissed him back, and arched her body against his. He was disappointed when – after a few more minutes of the intense make-out session – she broke the kiss.

"As fun as this is, I have to get back inside," she explained, lowering her legs, and pushing his body away. He stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" he sputtered out, completely taken aback.

She smiled at him in pity. "I'm sorry, Ryan, but I have to get back in there and make sure everything is running smoothly." She turned to go.

"Isn't that what Marissa is here for?" he growled into her ear as he caught her around the waist from behind.

"Do you really think she's actually doing any work in there?" She sighed a little as he bit her earlobe.

"I really don't care," he spun her around.

"Well, I do," she told him resolutely.

"Why," he was exasperated now, and a little angry at being denied. "They hate you, and you don't seem to like them either."

She gave a little shrug, "but I'm not going to let them forget me." Ryan stared in disbelief as she walked back into the party, straightening her skirt as she went.

"Where were you?" Seth asked, glancing over at his new best friend.

"Just had to get out of here," Ryan repeated his lines from the last dance.

"Why?" Summer interrupted. Ryan shrugged, not really caring enough to explain. Seth shrugged too, he didn't really know what was wrong. Seth and Summer gave Ryan little looks of confusion, because the blonde boy was staring off into space. Eventually they gave up, and continued their conversation.

Ryan watched her mingle. He watched as the female students politely talked to her, secretly annoyed. He watched their male dates stare at Taylor's chest. Ryan couldn't blame them.

She looked up at him, smiling a little, a secretive look in her eyes. He didn't care that she saw him. She already knew he watched her.

"Are you gonna let me fuck you yet?" he blew the smoke out of his lungs and watched it dissipate into the night air. She giggled, leaning against her car.

"Not at this moment, no." He shifted impatiently. "Here," she grabbed his hand, ignoring his protests, and pulled a pen out of her bag. He felt the point scratch against his hand – it was actually quite painful – and looked at it when she finally let go. Her phone number. "Call me," she instructed, getting out her keys.

"What if I don't?" he challenged.

She paused, car door open. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "if you don't call, you don't get to do me." She got in the car, giving him a little wave before starting it up and pulling away. Ryan inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

"Good boy."

Ryan was pissed off. That's how she answered. No 'hello', no 'who is this?' Just 'good boy'.

"Ryan?" Her voice called over the line perkily.

"What?" he growled into the phone.

"You called me, you know."

"You told me to."

"And you did. I'm so proud."

This girl was annoying. He couldn't wait to fuck her.

"Well, we can't at this moment," she was saying, and he realized he said his thoughts out loud. She was even laughing at him a little.

"Why not?"

"Well, obviously because you're at your house, and I'm at mine." She was playing with him.

"Then why don't we remedy that?"

A pause. "How about tomorrow? It's Saturday, so we don't have school, and my mom will be out all day." He liked the sound of that. She gave him her address, said goodnight, and hung up.

He lay down on his bed, determined to make tomorrow come as quickly as possible.

She was gasping and writhing on her bed. Sunlight streamed through the blinds and hit the soft pink comforter that she was grasping tightly. Ryan pressed his thumb harder into the material covering her clit, and she made a mewing sound that drove him wild. But she didn't beg, which pissed him off. He wanted her to break, to admit she wanted this just as much as he did. His frustration was reaching a breaking point.

He leaned over, watching her face. It was controlled: eyes shut – not too tightly –, lips parted – not too wide -, brow furrowed – not distastefully. He really wanted to shatter her polite façade. He wanted to make her scream. He slipped his finger under the fabric, fingers probing against her slick clit. She arched her back, pressing her hips hard into his hand. Her face didn't move an inch, but he heard her breath hitch.

He pushed one finger into her, and was satisfied when her face flickered for a brief second. In that moment, her eyes had opened, mouth widened, forehead crinkling. It wasn't much, but it was enough. When his finger was as deep as it could go, he added another, but was disappointed when her expression barely moved. That wouldn't do.

A smug grin curled his lips up. He bent the two fingers inside of her, probing around until she inhaled sharply. There it was. Keeping the digits curled, he fucked her slowly, hitting that same spot over and over again. Each time he did it she gasped a little louder, opened her mouth a bit wider, breathed a bit heavier.

"Do you want it?" He was surprised at how rough and low his voice was. Damn it, this girl was getting to him. She didn't respond, so he spoke again. "Tell me you want it."

"Or what?" her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. He almost lost it. This Newport bitch was going to play with him? He pulled his fingers out of her.

"I'm not letting you come until you tell me you want it." When her jaw clenched, he was triumphant, but the feeling didn't last.

She smiled politely, "fine." He watched as her hand slid into her pants, resuming his actions. She started to moan loudly, arching her body off the bed. He was enthralled and angry at the same time. Her hand was moving, but he couldn't see it, which was a problem. To fix that, he grabbed the waistband of her khakis, pulling them down roughly to expose her, fingers buried deep inside herself.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked him dead in the eye when she came. She didn't moan his name, she didn't scream. The only difference in her was the way her entire body tensed, and the look of pure want that passed in her eyes.

"Well," she pulled her fingers out, inspecting them as they glistened in the sunlight. She poked out her pink tongue, tasting herself. "That was pleasant. But I'm not sure why you had to come over. I seem to have managed quite well on my own." Her lips wrapped around the two fingers, and she sucked them slowly, cleaning them.

Ryan felt the familiar heat of anger flood through him. How fucking dare she? She was pretending like she didn't want him at all. And she was teasing him, the little bitch. He should just leave, never look, never speak to her again. It would save him a world of irritation. He should, but he wouldn't, because he was achingly hard, and she was still splayed out across the bed. To hell if she wanted it or not, she was getting it.

He pulled his t-shirt off, and she smiled at him. "I see you're staying, then?"

"You said I could fuck you, so I'm gonna fuck you," the button of his jeans popped open, and the zipper grated as it slid down. She sighed dramatically.

"Well, wake me when you're finished." He resisted the urge to punch something, and stood up to finally remove the restricting jeans and boxers. She was looking at her ceiling in boredom, legs still spread for him. The bed dipped as he got back on, positioning himself between them. She looked down, and he swore her eyes widened for a brief second as she took him in.

If he hadn't been trying to outdo her in the not caring department, he would have growled at how good she felt when he pushed into her. She was so fucking tight, and she involuntarily clenched around him. He looked at her face, which was determinedly impassive. He pulled out, watching her face the entire time. Her gaze had focused on something on the right side of the room. He pushed back in, and her mouth tightened.

He went slowly, trying to make her crack. The pace was killing him, but he wouldn't go full force until she asked him to. It got harder and harder to control, because the fact that she wasn't asking for it made him angrier and hornier. She was trying to look unimpressed, uncaring, but he was beginning to notice little things that told him otherwise: the way she bit the inside of her lip, the way she would inhale sharply as he pushed in, the way her fists clenched at her side. He bent his head to her ear.

"All you have to do is ask," he growled, and he swore he heard a small noise come from the back of her throat. He couldn't be sure, though, and that pissed him off. So he pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing it slowly, matching his thrusts. Pulling back his head, he could see that her eyes had glazed over, but she was still staring at the other side of the room.

He knew, though, when she climaxed. It was obvious, even if she tried to hide it. Her entire body tensed, and she clenched uncontrollably around him, pulling him in deeper, keeping him trapped. He watched her press her lips together, her hands grip the comforter brutally. He smirked, leaning down towards her ear again. "Good girl," he mimicked, and her hips made the slightest movement upwards. He could see she was glaring at him angrily, and he returned it with a smug, condescending smile.

He wasn't far behind her in coming, his own orgasm overtaking him after a few more thrusts. It was made all the better knowing that she had come, knowing that, despite her best efforts, she had wanted it too. He pulled out, completely satisfied, and began gathering his clothes.

"Oh, are you done?" she asked, trying to mask her breathlessness.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend like you didn't come."

"I didn't," she sat bolt upright, glaring at him. "I just pretended to make you feel better about yourself."

"Then why are you telling me now?" his pants were on, and he pulled his shirt back over his head. He watched her try to search for an answer. "See?"

She got up, pulling a sweatshirt on, and it hung over the top of her thighs. "You don't know what you're talking about."

He gripped her hair, kissing her roughly. "Look, little girl," he growled when he pulled away. His face was inches from hers, and she looked startled and a little angry at his tone. "I get that you want to be all in control and uncaring, but don't for a second think you're good enough to take me on."

She sneered at him, "how dare…" she gasped when he tugged on her hair harshly. His breath was coming out hot and heavy against her cheek, and she looked furious.

"I see right through you, understand me? This whole act you have going on? It's very convincing. Let me guess," he cut off whatever she had been about to say, "you pretend you're so high and mighty so no one knows how pathetic you feel. You let guys fuck you to feel validated, but pretend not to care about it at all, that way, you don't get hurt when they don't talk to you the next day." He couldn't tell whether she was going to kill him, or start crying. "You're very good," he slowed, letting go of her hair. "But I'm better."

"Fuck you," she hissed at him, looking for the world like she was going to murder him.

"Already did that," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. He was halfway down the hall when he heard a smashing sound come from her bedroom, and he smirked. Her mask was breaking.

Stay tuned for part two: Shatter.

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