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It doesn’t bother me. I have Abby, she’s loyal and a better friend than any of the phony cheerleaders or football suck asses would ever be. What does bother me though, is Luke’s dedication to loathing me. It’s borderline obsessive. He still hasn’t done anything serious enough to get himself into trouble, but I can tell he’s thought about it. And I hate more than anything that I let that scare me.
I say goodbye to Abby outside the door to my English class and take my usual seat near the front, as far away as possible from the desks that Luke and his friends have all claimed at the back of the room.
Luke and his gang all pile into class together not long after me. With Luke stopping to casually rest his ass on the edge of my desk, his friends all surround him, doing an excellent job of making me feel claustrophobic.
“Happy Birthday, Ella.” Luke looks down over his shoulder at me. I don’t bother thanking him. Instead, I prepare myself for the insult that’s evidently going to follow.
“You having a party?” he asks, and without giving me a chance to come back at him, he answers his own question. “Ah, that’s right you haven’t got any friends.” His pathetic attempt to embarrass me earns him a roar of laughter from his buddies.
“Maybe you could ask Mommy and Daddy if they’d buy you a couple new ones for your birthday. Upgrade you on the skanky one you already got.” He winks at me as the hyenas’ chorus picks up again.
I’m about to speak up, asshole can say what he likes about me, but hell if I’m about to let him call Abby a skank. My mouth opens, but just as I’m about to say something the door swings open and someone unfamiliar steps inside, causing the words to get caught in my throat.
Straight away I know it’s the guy Abby was getting excited about. And he brings a massive presence into the room with him, probably because he stands so tall and is built so solid. His shoulders and arms seem so much larger than any of the boys my age. Maybe he’s older, repeating a year. He has to be, someone our age couldn’t have acquired all the tattoos he’s got in such a short time.
My head follows him as he strides across the room confidently, wearing blue jeans, black open laced boots, and a grey sleeveless hoodie that’s unzipped. The tight white T-shirt underneath, drawing all my attention to his impressive chest.
His features are beautifully harsh, and there’s a natural pout set on his thick bottom lip.
He glares at the group of boys crowded around me with eyes that aren’t green or brown, but a unique shade of their own. Even his hair is perfect, shaved tight at the back and sides and graded into dirty blonde, messy spikes on top of his head. Whoever he is, he seems to be stealing my words and my breath all at the same time.
I watch him sit at the desk a row to my left, just in front of mine. His choice pleases me, it should allow me to look at him during the lesson without him noticing.
Mrs. Wallace hushes everyone as she comes through the door, dropping a tall stack of folders on top of her desk.
“Come on, take your seats. Books open. Time to enter the mind of Fitzgerald.” She tries her best to draw enthusiasm from the loud groans and over-exaggerated eye rolls everyone makes as they disperse to settle at their desks.
Luke is the last one to move, narrowing his eyes at me as he pushes himself off my desk and takes a seat at his own.
I find it impossible to focus and spend the entire lesson entranced by the new guy. I scribble doodles instead of taking the notes I should be jotting. Towards the end of the lesson, he glances over his shoulder and catches me staring. I don’t look away despite my head screaming at me to, I’m far too distracted by how much I like the silver ring he has pierced through his left nostril.
His eyes scan me, looking neither impressed nor disappointed with what he sees, and I feel my lips pull up into a wide smile that I’m sure looks embarrassingly desperate. One that quickly fades away when it becomes apparent he has no intention of returning it.
Not that I’m surprised, he doesn’t seem the smiling kind.
His eyes continue to burn through me, it’s intense and makes me feel uncomfortable and enthralled all at the same time.
Cassie Meadows wastes no time making her intentions clear, leaning over her desk she taps her finger on his ledge of a shoulder and he breaks our eye contact to turn to her. She fakes a blush as she passes him a folded up piece of paper. If I worried about my smile being shameful, she tops it with the high pitched giggle sound she makes as he takes the note from between her fingers.
I watch him smirk to himself as he reads her message, and I don’t bother straining my eyes to find out what it says. It’ll be some mindless compliment like ‘you’re hot’ or an offer to ‘make out’ during free period.
Anything with a dick fancies Cassie Meadows, which is why I’m shocked when he crushes up her note in his huge fist, waiting until Mrs. Wallace isn’t looking before tossing it with impressive aim into the wastepaper basket in front of her desk.
Cassie does a real shit job holding back the shock of her rejection. Her mouth opening like a tunnel, and this time a not so fake flush finds her cheeks. The girl isn’t used to being turned down, none of the cheerleaders are.
The bell makes me jump, and clumsily I gather up my stuff and head out of class as fast as possible. Avoiding making eye contact with the new guy again, I don't want it to result in me smiling like an idiot at him for a second time. I also can’t run the risk of Luke tripping me up or embarrassing me in front of him either.
When I get to science class, I take a stool at the station I share with Abby. Naturally, she wants to know everything about the new guy when I tell her he’s in my class. I fill her in on the Cassie gossip. Then find myself describing his chiseled jaw and full pouty lips in way too much detail. Abby likes the sound of the nose ring and the tattoos. They’re my favorite part too, though I don’t admit that to her.
I pass through the rest of the morning without seeing him again. There’s no sign of him in the lunch hall at lunchtime, and it’s not until last period when I step into my math class that the sight of him stops me on the spot.
He’s already seated at the back of the class, slouched back comfortably, with his arms crossed and his legs set wide apart beneath what everyone knows is Luke Robinson’s desk.
I contemplate warning him, telling him that no one, ever, sits at Luke’s desk. Not even if he’s not here. But that would entail stringing a whole sentence together and I damn near struggle to breathe with him around me, let alone speak. Besides, I got a feeling the guy can handle himself if he needs to.
I hear the noisy crowd always led by Luke moving down the hall, and it’s too late for warnings now. Stepping away from the door, I offer new guy an apologetic smile before I sit down myself.
Instant silence falls among them when all eyes settle on Luke’s desk and the imposter sitting in his space.
