MOST PEOPLE IN SAN JUAN HILL KNOW TWO THINGS. ONE: IT’S A DYING NEIGHBORHOOD. AND TWO: THE pack of boys that roam its streets like feral dogs are to be avoided at all costs. They’re known to be dangerous and volatile and all around bad news. Their turf, as far as anyone can figure, are the docks and the slowly crumbling buildings that lead the way to the docks.
Considering most people in Sam Juan Hill know to avoid the Jets (and by extension, their turf), the sight of a newcomer in Jet territory is an odd one. Even more odd is the fact that it’s a girl. Girls don’t come down here. The only girls that set foot down here are the Jet girls. Riff waves off Ice and Action. He doesn’t need their help with this.
He’s dealt with many a girl in his time. He watches her for a moment longer. She looks like she’s rich. His lip curls. Rich girls are always bad news. “Hey!” It’s the short, sharp yell that he reserves for trespassers and only for trespassers. “This ain’t your turf, sweetheart.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at her. “Get outta here.”
the city is still awash in soft, warm sunlight even though the evening is slowly approaching, not that it could deter juliet from roaming the streets all on her own, exploring. she feels safe in this new home of hers, perhaps naively so, but she can’t help herself. she’s quickly learned that the saying is true and the city does in fact never sleep. it’s a hub of art and music, always bustling with activity, so different from her quiet, peaceful hometown. everything is new and fascinating to her — the buildings, the combination of cultures and accents, the iconic landmarks… she fell in love with new york city instantly, on the very day she moved into her apartment, a two-bedroom beauty that she shares with her cousin, rosaline.
she doesn’t know where she’s going, doesn’t realize she must have taken a wrong turn or two a few blocks ago and left the nicer neighborhood behind. lost in her thoughts, daydreaming about the kind of life she’ll have in this city, she’d most likely just keep on walking if it weren’t for the stranger, calling after her. dark brows inching closer together as she stops in her tracks, confused whether this man’s really talking to her. she’s not used to people approaching her and being straight up rude, but she looks the stranger up and down and can’t help but judge… he doesn’t look like a gentleman, doesn’t talk like one either. still, the situation amuses rather than intimidates her, mostly because she’s blissfully unaware of what exactly such men are capable of.
“excuse me?” she chuckles, glancing around as if to try and figure out what kind of joke this is. did rosaline orchestrate this? is she right around the corner somewhere, snickering? “as far as i’m concerned, this is a public space. i haven’t seen your name on the deed.” it’s only then that she realizes she stands out a bit, with jewelry adorning her fingers and wrists, diamonds in her earrings, designer sundress that fits like a glove… and quickly adds, “if you think of robbing me, think twice. i’m quite the screamer,” she huffs, getting defensive and feigning bravado even though the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck are slowly beginning to stand up. what does this guy want from her?
