THREE

The first half of senior year was doomed.

My schedule consisted of some of the worst teachers at our school. From Mr. Johnson who was really just the basketball coach disguised as a teacher so he could make payroll, to Miss Ricketts that only liked the good Christian kids and basically ignored the rest of us. I was going to have a shitty year.

Dylan and I were comparing schedules at our spot. We stood in the same spot every morning, break, and when we were waiting for each other at the end of the day. It was on the first floor, a few yards away from the nurses office. Just out of the way of the big crowds that gathered in the middle of the school's foyer. It was our spot.

"At least we have lunch together," I muttered, stuffing my schedule back into my backpack.

"Mac does, too," Dylan said. I sighed in relief.

I bit down on my bottom lip when I felt that chilling feeling again. Goosebumps rode down my neck and arms. Before I could even open my mouth to tell Dylan about how I've been feeling this wary feeling lately, Mac strode up to us. But she wasn't alone.

"Hey, guys. This is Jameson. He's new and I was showing him around but I really have to go meet Coach Hobbs. Can you guys finish the grand tour?"

She didn't even wait for a response before she was apologizing to the person behind her and taking off in the opposite direction.

My mouth went dry upon looking up. It was the same guy – the one from the diner. He was standing right behind Mac. And he was looking directly at me.

I could see him more clearly now. He had dark, almost black hair (now that it wasn't hidden under the hood of his jacket) styled just barely. Tanned skin spread across his face and exposed collarbones, mostly covered by clothing. He had a strong jaw, sculpted eyebrows and the clearest hazel eyes I'd ever seen in my life. He was so brooding and intimidating, especially compared to the softness Mac exhibited.

Did I mention he was tall?

Gulping, I looked anywhere but at the boy – Jameson – but finally settled on sending a pleading look towards Dylan. Come on, man, take one for the team.

There was no way in hell I was showing this dude around my quaint little high school. He already probably thought I was a creepy loser for staring at him at the diner. If I just volunteered to be his tour guide of the morning, he'd probably step on me.

But Dylan was sharing equally pitiful looks to me, which I took as a sign that his social anxiety wouldn't handle it well. I sighed, mentally noting that he owed me one. "Yeah, uh–" I cleared my throat, my voice cracking on the first word. "Yeah. I'll show you around, man."

Jameson grimaced. "I think I can figure it out."

And then he walked away.

My lungs almost burst from the breath I was holding in my chest. I really dodged a bullet there. Dylan was staring at Jameson's retreating body and looked at me quizzically.

"That was rude," he muttered.

Once my heart returned to a normal speed, I processed what had just happened. That was   rude, and kind of embarrassing. I know I probably looked weird after being a nosy fuck at the diner but . . . ouch. I filled Dylan in on what happened prior to that being the first time technically meeting Jameson.

He snorted, pulling out his phone to change the song playing in his ear bud. "New kid definitely thinks you're a freak."

"Yes, thank you. I'm aware."

Deciding not to dwell on it, I just focused on anything else. I was trying so hard to shake the feeling that keeps taking over my body and leaving me feeling weak.

It felt like too much of a coincidence that it happened when he came around. But the first time I felt it was at the landing, and he wasn't in sight. It was dark, though . . .

I had to stop. It was probably just hormones.

At lunch, Dylan and I had to find a new table since some sad looking freshman sat where we normally did. I found a table by the farthest wall from the doorway. I picked at my turkey sandwich while listening to Dylan complain about the annoying theater kids in his English class until something caught my eye.

"Um. Don't look."

Dylan, of course, looked up immediately. I buried my face in my hands so I didn't have to see his. Walking towards us, hand in hand, was Mac and Marcus. I guess whatever reason they had for breaking up three weeks ago vanished.

I peeked between my fingers to see Dylan with his lips pressed together in a firm line. Before I had the chance to say anything, the couple plopped down at our table.

Marcus was a nice guy. At first.

He was polite, and seemed of no ill intention. He made Mac ridiculously happy in the beginning. It was all she could talk about, smile about, be about. But then he cheated for the first time. Her smile faded when he was around. I guessed he was some star manipulator, since they stayed together for so long.

Every time they broke up, she'd say the same thing. "I'm done with him. He won't see me crawling back again." And then she would.

I didn't realize this probably hurt Dylan even worse. It was painful watching our best friend get her heart toyed with time and time again. I couldn't imagine how it would be to watch your crush.

"Hey," Mac grinned. "How are y'all's classes?"

"Shit," I replied, and Dylan quietly agreed.

"Aw, Jameson is sitting all alone. Should I invite him to sit with us?" she asked, ever the social butterfly. When I quickly declined, she pouted. "Boo. How was the tour?"

I sighed. "It didn't happen. He walked away."

She went on a rant about how we were unwelcoming and that he probably just felt like he was impeding. It wasn't like that, I was sure. Marcus barely contributed to our conversation the entirety of lunch.

Dylan didn't either.

"I already heard word of a back to school party at the landing on Friday," I laughed. "Are we going?"

"Yes," Dylan muttered grumpily. I glanced over at him and caught him grimacing at Marcus quickly, then looking away. Poor guy. Who knew his feelings were this bad?

My eyes wandered along the cafeteria. Finally I found Jameson, sitting alone as Mac said. His head was down, no food in front of him, eyes trained on his cell phone. I felt kind of bad. Being a new kid in a town where everybody grew up together must be hard. I nibbled on my lip and tuned out all the noise, just watching the lonely boy.

Almost as if he felt my eyes like a tap on the shoulder, he looked up and directly at me. I froze.

He didn't even look around. It was like he knew it was me gazing at him and exactly where I was sitting. I didn't look away for a moment, just held this intense stare with Jameson until Dylan nudged my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, snapping out of it and returning back to this planet.

When I glanced back, Jameson had looked away. He was back to his phone, shaking his head a bit.

"I asked if you wanted to go to Davis after school?"

Davis was the local skate park. I was a novice at riding the board, but I found it sort of therapeutic. Dylan was much smoother and could keep his balance for much longer than I could. He knew tricks and flips that I could only dream of doing.

I nodded. "I have to watch the kids until my mom gets home, but after that?" Dylan hummed in agreement just as the bell rang. "You can come home with me, if you want."

My third period was Miss Ricketts for chemistry. I hated science.

She had a seating chart shining on the white board from a projector. I stared at it blankly for a moment while finding my name all the way on the bottom, designating me to the back of the classroom. I sat down at the two-seater desk.

It appeared I sat alone, which was perfect. I didn't have to pretend to ignore whoever I was assigned next to until we had to work together in a lab. I pulled out the green notebook that I mentally chose for science and a pencil, boredly waiting for the rest of the students to filter in.

Of course, luck was never on my side. Jameson strolled in, one strap of his backpack dangling lazy off of one shoulder. He looked at the seating chart and then walked over to Miss Ricketts. They talked for a few moments before she pointed at me.

Fuck my life.