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I couldn’t help myself.
He was back to reading his book, his apple in hand. I could imagine sitting beside him and watching as he took a bite, his straight, white teeth digging into the skin, the crack of the flesh breaking resounding in the cafeteria.
God, my infatuation with him which, if I’m being completely honest, was how I was starting to feel, was making me go insane. I felt like his mysterious persona, the fact that no one really knew who he is, drew me to him so much.
And despite what I wanted or what I’d like to do, I was too shy to actually go up to him and introduce myself.
It all sounded so immature, but being an eighteen-year-old virgin, who hadn’t been more than kissed in her lifetime, the prospect of taking what I wanted, going after it… terrified me.
Chapter Two
Aiden
I felt her gaze on me. I always did, if I let myself be honest.
Harlow Bradshaw.
I knew nothing about her on a personal level, but I watched and listened. I found out her name by doing just that, knew who she was. Senior, eighteen years old. I kept to myself, but that didn’t mean I was oblivious to the shit going on around me.
I normally don’t like people watching me, which they do, because they have assumptions about me. I keep to myself and am quiet. I don’t conform to how everyone else is, how they dress or act. But with her, Harlow Bradshaw, I feel myself liking her watching me. Because when I’ve caught her gazing at me, there’s no expectation or some shit on her face. There’s no judgment. She looks curious about me, like she’s got so much to say, like she’s got so much she wants to find out.
And for the past month, since I transferred here, I told myself I wasn’t going to get into any trouble. And that included getting involved with anyone. I didn’t need the drama, didn’t need the complication.
I had one more year of school left and then I could focus on moving away, being by myself. I knew there were questions and assumptions about me, rumors on who I really was. It wasn’t like there was some kind of huge secret that revolved around me. I had demons, family drama, of course, and if they wanted to think it was this massive mystery, I went right ahead and let them. It didn’t matter, because I didn’t give a shit. But then there was her, the feel of her watching me, knowing she was curios. And I didn’t feel pissed or unaffected.
I felt… interested in her.
If she knew the type of guy I was, the life I led, what I didn’t have in my life compared to all these other little assholes who were around us, she probably wouldn’t be interested in me. I knew her curiosity was because I was the new guy, maybe even because I had this secret air around me.
But shit, I was a nobody.
There was no big mystery. I came from a poor family, a single mother who was diagnosed with breast cancer three years ago. My childhood was rough, especially at school. I had to fight to survive. Hell, I’d been held back twice because of how much school I’d missed, since I’d stayed home to help take care of my mom, help put food on the table and a roof over our heads.
Here I was, nearly twenty years old and a senior in high school. I was the shiny new thing, no doubt. But as I looked at her, I felt something else… this curiosity. Girls had never really interested me, not in the way that had me needing them in my life for communication or pleasure.
At school, I didn’t worry about anyone but myself. I kept my head down, minded my own fucking business. It was better that way. I couldn’t get in anymore trouble if I followed those rules. Hell, I couldn’t even miss anymore school, or it would fuck up any chance I had at going to a decent college and making something out of myself.
But I had something that always fucked me over. And that was my damn short fuse. That meant I couldn’t just keep my mouth shut if someone fucked with me.
I had to fuck with them right back.
Then that would lead to a fist fight, and then that would end with a suspension. Hell, I was probably one infraction away from being expelled and having no chance of actually graduating.
So I ignored her as best as I could.
I looked down at the book in my hand, just a moment ago immersed in what I was reading, but I felt her watching me. I always felt her eyes on me. It was this strange sensation, one that I… liked. In fact, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed her staring at me.
