Autumn's POV

Second period

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't push thoughts of him out of my head. The rich timbre of his laugh, the way his lips curved when he smiled... I buried my head in my hands, my groan thankfully muffled.

"Psst! Autumn!" A voice whispered. Weird, even random voices sounded like his. Well, whoever it was, I wasn't going to take the bait.

The sound of a pencil case being opened and then-

Something hard poked between my shoulder blades. Sighing, I began to pivot in my seat, fully prepared to snap at whoever was trying to mess with me. 

I turned, finding myself face-to-face with stunning green eyes and gorgeously dishevelled hair. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "What are you doing here?" I whisper-shouted so the teacher wouldn't hear.

Leonardo raised an eyebrow as if to say, "I'm in this class, too."

I ground my teeth, scowling at him. "Why did you poke me in the back with that pencil?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, smirking, drumming the pencil on the edge of his desk.

I opened my mouth to give a no doubt scathing remark, but he cut me off before I could swear at him.

"Has anyone ever told you have a really dirty mouth?"

I scowled again, about to piece together a string of expletives that - in hindsight - would probably just have proven him right, when our biology teacher interrupted.

"Autumn Finch!" She shouted suddenly. I was pretty sure every single student in the class flinched at her harsh tone. 

"This is your only warning. If I catch you talking to your friends in my class again, you'll be seeing me after school for detention," she snapped. "And that goes for the rest of you," the teacher added, raising her voice further and emphasising her point by glaring around the classroom. "Now get back to work and stop gawking."

I shot an incredulous look at Leonardo before turning around in my seat, glowering at the worksheet in front of me. He was the one distracting me. So why was I in trouble?

Still seething over the unfairness of the situation, I nearly snarled when, a grand total of two minutes later, a pencil tapped right between my shoulder blades. Annoyance rising by the second, I whirled around and snatched the pencil from his hands, using a little more force than necessary.

The shock on his handsome face was satisfying.

Not wanting to give him time to retaliate, or heaven forbid, the teacher to notice, I turned back around, setting the pencil on the desk next to me, sighing. Whatever he was playing at, I wasn't interested. I wasn't interested in him.

I chanted that sentence over and over in my head. I'm not interested in him, I'm not interested in him, I'm not interested in him. 

A traitorous voice in the back of my head whispered, but you are.

I was in deep, deep trouble.