Late, holy shit I'm late.

My breathing is shaky from the bad dream I had. I try not to think about it while I take a five minute man shower and attempt to look presentable. Going to school means I have to act like I've got my life together, and play the role of a popular girl. But inside I'm a hot mess, and it makes me hate days like this.

"Derek, move it!"

I barrell into the kitchen, grab a muffin off the counter, and shove it into a paper bag Lucille left on the table. I doubt I'll eat it, but at least I'll have it if my stomach stops churning from the nightmare.

"Don't yell at me, I'm not the one making us late." Derek glances up from his phone with his brows raised, and throws me the middle finger.

I'd call him out on it, but I'm not in the mood. I huff out a sigh and retreat towards the garage. It takes him twenty years to get to the car. I was tempted to leave without him. If we don't hurry we'll miss first period. I'm not the type of person that makes a late entrance. Trying to uphold my reputation means I need to be on top of everything I do.

***

"You're gonna get a ticket at this rate." Derek grips the edge of his seat.

I glance over at him, his lips pull into a straight line as he braces himself. We're about to cross over the bridge. There's minor congestion heading onto the mainland, but it's moving at a steady pace.

The black rails of the bridge pass us in a blur as we drive over. The traffic lessens as we head eastbound into the main part of town, which has a little more density of traffic due to the businesses all crammed into a tight little space.

"Nobody asked for your opinion." I turn up the music in an attempt to ignore him.

A song by Charlotte Rising called Can't Get Enough, vibrates the speakers. It's one of my favorites, but I'm not feeling it today. The thought of missing out on Joey's appearance at the Battle of the Bands makes me grip the steering wheel tighter out of anger. I step on the gas, causing Derek to spill his grotesque smelling shake on his pants.

"You're out of control today, Marnie."

I ignore him and concentrate on getting us to school in one piece. Derek practically jumps from the car the moment we reach the parking lot. There aren't many spaces left, so I end up in the far back near the exit.

I don't waste any time checking myself in the mirror, instead I jet right for the doors. The bell is going to ring in under a minute. Rushing up the steps, I lose my footing on the final one.

I was so consumed with getting here on time that I forgot to zip my bag, and the contents spill out.

"Shit."

As I bend down to grab the books, someone's hand reaches out to help me. Their black skinny jeans and torn black converse are the only thing in my view. A hand covered in tats brush against mine as we go for my notebook. My head jolts up, and I come face to face with Flint's calm blue eyes.

"Ugh." My jaw stiffens, as I let out a long theatrical sigh.

"You're welcome." There's a sharp edge to his voice.

"Why did you give me that flyer?" I ask.

"I thought you might be interested."

My eyes meet his and neither of us look away.

"Well I'm not."

He stands and hands me one of my other books. I swipe it from his grip and mumble, thank you under my breath. I wipe my pants off as the bell rings. Flint saunters into the building without another word.

***

It's only Wednesday and our poems aren't due until Friday, but the moment I walk into Mr. Shepherd's class it's painfully obvious we are working on them today. Flint already has my desk turned to his like he's eager to get started.

I rub the bridge of my nose, a light throb pounds at the spot where I press the pads of my fingers. With my heavy footing my shoes create scuff marks over the linoleum. When I reach our desks I stand with my arms crossed staring down at him.

"You actually did the assignment?" I ask.

Flint laughs. "Nope."

I roll my eyes and catch a hint of something other than amusement in his own eyes. His forehead crinkles, but I ignore the nagging feeling that he might actually be concerned by how I look. I slouch down into my seat and lean over, unzipping my backpack. Inside the front pocket is a small mirror, without lifting it out I flip it open to take in my appearance. I nearly gag at my pale complexion and knotted hair, it's no wonder he looked at me funny.

"Alright folks," Mr. Shepherd says.

I snap the mirror shut, grab my notebook, then straighten myself. My spine aches from the pressure of stiffening my already tense body.

Mr. Shepherd continues. "Today you will work on combining your poems, you will have some time on Friday, but please try to get most of it done today."

The class dispearses into a sea of murmers, and I'm stuck staring at the stupid smirk that's plastered on Flint's face.

"Can I see what you wrote?" I ask.

With a serious look on his face he reaches into his frayed black backpack and pulls out a notebook. I stare wide-eyed at the lyrics scribbled all over it, like mine. I hope he doesn't catch the warmth rising in my cheeks. If he does, he doesn't show it. He slides the book forward and shows me a blank page waiting to be written in.

"Wow, that's some life changing experience."

Flint laughs. "What about you? Did you write anything?"

"Yeah, but we can't exactly put our poems together if yours is blank."

His smirk is annoying me. His leg shakes our two desks. It takes everything in me not to reach forward and kick him. I don't want to show him my work if he's done none of it. I give in because what else is there to do for the next forty five minutes.

I flip through the pages and hesitate when I get to the one I'm looking for. Without asking he grabs my notebook.

I narrow my eyes at him, as an almost lethal growl escapes my lips. "You're rude."

He laughs. "Got a point Bennett?"

I let out an annoyed sigh, and sit back while he reads my work. With his notebook below he starts to jot something down. I raise a brow in his direction, but he's too busy writing to notice. It takes him under five minutes to complete it. He slides his notebook to me. In black marker he's added some lines to the poem.

The back of her head.

He's never coming back, he's dead.

Without so much as a word.

The news came as a shock.

She just left.

Six feet deep.

Did she love me?

What were his last thoughts?

I'm angry.

Depressed.

Does she regret it? Does she still care? Will I ever feel repaired?

Heart broken and shocked, I'm keeping my feelings locked.

My eyes widened. Flint Rogers has never left me speechless before. I'm not sure if I should praise his work or act like it's subpar. I'd be lying if I said it was terrible.

"What? Did you forget I'm in a band. Poems and lyrics just come naturally to me," he says.

I pause for a moment still hearing a voice inside my head telling me to be kind. I've had a rough morning and being kind to Flint is not a priority. I shrug and act like it's nothing. His eyes narrow at me. It's painfully obvious that he wants to tell me off, but holds back.

Flint raises his hand, asks to use the bathroom then walks out of the room. When the bell rings, Flint still hasn't returned. I'm not surprised that he skipped out on the rest of class.

On our way out Mr. Shepherd reminds us that we will be reading the poems in class on Friday.

Outside in the hallway I catch Cam by his locker. He's chatting up a storm with Mitchie Young. Mitchie is one of Rose's friends from the cheer squad. I keep my distance, but hone in on their conversation. Mitchie throws back her long curls over her shoulder, and laughs at something he said. Her hand gently touches his chest, he's very aware of it too. I have nothing to be jealous about, but I hate it when girls flock to Cam. They all know I'm with him, yet still make their moves.

I stroll towards the two of them, Cam spots me first.

"Hey babe," he says like it's no big deal.

"Hey," My voice drops an octave.

Her hand falls from his chest as I wrap my arms around him. He's conflicted on where to look. I grab hold of his chin and pull him to my lips. I smirk as I feel her gaze on the back of my head. I attempt to deepen my kiss, but Cam places his hand on my arm pushing me back slightly. My eyes narrow at him when I pull away.

"Sorry babe, Mitchie and I have a project to work on during lunch. So I'll see you later?"

My cheeks are on fire. I can't believe he just did that to me. I secure a fake smile, and give him one last kiss on the cheek before walking off. I fight the urge to lock myself in the bathroom and cry. I glance over my shoulder as they walk in the opposite direction. They're laughter leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I face in the other direction, but I'm stopped by a warm hard body. My hand lays flat against a strong muscular chest, and when I look up I nearly die seeing who it is. Flint. We really need to stop running into each other like this.

"What happened? Did you fall in the toilet?" I take a jab at him, because I can.

His eyes lower to my hand. The realization hits me that I'm still touching his chest. I pull it back, hugging it to my body.

Flint laughs. "Blew it up. Whatever you do, do not go in there." He pretends to fan out the area with his hands.

"Real mature."

I roll my eyes. I take a step around him before anyone notices us talking outside of class. I have a reputation to protect and talking to Flint does not keep me on top.