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Mr. Gavin begins talking about the class curriculum and expectation, but I can’t focus. “You didn’t tell me your name yet,” I whisper, only half-listening to the teacher.
“Grayson,” he finally introduces himself, using his real name for the first time.
My mystery man is no longer a mystery.
Grayson.
The constant stammering of my heart is making me breathless.
“Grayson,” I say this name, only because I want to know how it feels on my tongue. It’s easy and nice. His eyes flash, narrowing on me when I breathe his name.
My teeth snag on my lower lip, and I watch just how quickly his attention is diverted to my mouth. My palms grow sweaty and I feel a flush creeping up from my neck to my cheeks that are already unnaturally warm.
“Riley Johnson? Riley Johnson!” The sound of my name snaps me out of my thoughts, and I lurch to my feet in alarm, almost knocking my desk over in my haste and forcing Grayson to reach out and hold it in place for me.
“Yes?” I squeak out, embarrassment coursing through me.
My calculus teacher gives me a bored look. “Attendance, young lady. If you’re not going to focus in my class, you can walk right back out.”
I hear a chorus of laughter, and my eyes flicker to my feet. “I’m sorry,” I mumble under my breath. When I sit down again, I can’t bring myself to look back at Grayson.
“Dumb bitch.” I hear the person in front of me sneer under her breath.
“She’s a walking disaster,” her friend agrees.
If I can hear their words, I know Grayson can too. He hears my truth; he sees it now. He sees the wreckage that is me — Riley Johnson.
Stupid, stupid Riley.
I can’t even do one thing right in my life. I just had to go and embarrass myself in front of him. Now Grayson probably thinks I’m a loon, with practically no brain cells.
The thought makes me pause.
Why do I care what he thinks? My whole life has been scrutinized and made fun of. I’ve been ostracized by the whole of Berkshire Academy, I’ve been ceaselessly bullied and everyone treats me like I’m some kind of disease (except Lila, of course).
Somehow, I’ve gotten used to the negativity and hate.
As long as I have Lila. She’s the pillar that keeps me together.
There’s an odd, unfamiliar flicker of disappointment in my chest at the thought of Grayson thinking that I am a disaster, just like the rest of them.
The idea of no longer being that girl in his sketchbook — the breathtaking vision of me that he drew — pains me.
Why should I care if he thinks the same…? He’s no one to me, just a stranger I’ve crossed paths with. It doesn’t matter; I shouldn’t care.
Oh, but I do.
I do care, and I don’t know why.
***
Three weeks later
“He’s coming our way,” I report, shaking my head with annoyance. Maddox Coulter and Colton Bennett swagger our way, with utmost confidence that makes me grit my teeth. “Oh shit, here we go again.”
Lila’s back straightens, as if to prepare herself for what’s coming. “Maybe we should get out of here?” My gaze sweeps over the cafeteria, searching for our possible routes of escape.
Two weeks ago, a group of freshman students stole our willow tree. Well, they took over our spot. Lila and I didn’t want to start any drama with the fledgelings, so we let them have our tree and we came back to the cafeteria.
