All eyes turn on me as I walk into my first block english class.

"May I help you?" A middle aged man with blonde graying hair stands in the front of the room.

"I'm new here. This is English four with Mr. Halls, right?"

"Yeah, you're in the right spot. Take a seat." He vaguely gestures his hand before continuing to teach.

I scan the classroom for an open spot. Though the walls are bare, large windows brighten the place, and a few student painted ceiling tiles add a pop of color. Outside, the sky is bright blue expect for a few strands of clouds. The class is full, so only a couple seats are available: I choose a desk in the back.

As the minutes of the lesson pass, my mind begins to drift elsewhere. How am I supposed to find Christian if I don't even know what he looks like? And what shall I say once I do?

The bell eventually rings, signaling it's time for lunch. I shake my head at those thoughts and head to my locker. I'm putting some books away when someone pipes up.

"Would you like to sit with me? At lunch?" a girl a couple lockers away asks. She clarifies herself, "I'm Emma. You're in my english class."

"Yeah, sure. I'm Amelia." I smile.

"I like your outfit by the way!" She shuts her locker, then motions with her head towards the cafeteria.

"Thanks."

The cafeteria is a racket of loud chatter, each table filled with gossiping students raising their voices to be heard over the commotion. I go stand in line for my lunch– over salted fries and a defrosted hamburger –, taking note of who associates with who while I wait. If I'm going to get the information I need, it's crucial to make the right introductions.

I'm heading to our table when I overhear Emma ask, "Where's Mason?"

"I think he went home. He texted me something came up," Charlotte replies, settling in to eat her own lunch.

I sit down.

"Oh, right! Amelia, this is Charlotte, Charlotte this is Amelia." She introduces me, subtly popping a crouton off Charlotte's salad in the process.

"Nice to meet you. You're the new girl, right?"

"That's me. Word must travel
around fast, huh?" I banter.

"You know, there's a party tonight you should come to and meet some people. What's your number? I'll text you the details."

She slides her phone, the contacts page on its screen, over to me.

"So?"

I reach for the phone, typing in my details. This could be my best chance to find Christan. "I'll be there."

"Good choice. Andrew's parties are always fun," she adds.

***

The rest of the day is uneventful: more boring classes and a pile of homework I'm without a doubt not going to do.

When I get home, to my surprise, Noah is at the door. I fill him in that I haven't found Christian yet, but I'm hoping to find him tonight at the party. He then promptly disappears, getting back to his own work.

I run upstairs, flopping on my soft bed. I stopped at the warehouse on the way home to help Caleb with some things, and we went to dinner afterwards, so it's already 8pm.

I reluctantly get up, grabbing a fresh towel on my way to the bathroom. I step in the shower to refresh, water cascading down my body in a glossy curtain. I lean against the cool tiles as the steamy water surrounds me, taking my mind off things.

I get out, deciding to wear a black, leather mini skirt, a tight, leopard mesh top with a square neckline, and my signature black combat boots. It seems like something that would catch a gang leaders eye. I glance at the clock, only to see I'm running late. Quickly topping off the look with a low messy bun and a neutral eye look, I slip a bright red lipstick into my cross body. If I'm going to be late, it'll be fashionably late.

I shout an unheard goodbye before hoping in my vehicle and driving off.

***

Drunk teens loiter about the front yard, and neon lights brightly flash from within the house. I make my way up to the door, the music growing loud as thunder.

The main hall, which contains the overflow of people who can't fit on the dancefloor, is difficult to navigate. I pass what I assume is the living room, which is packed like sardines, and quite frankly smells like it too, and a study filled with a game of truth or dare.

Having no luck, I take out my phone to send a where are you text to Emma and Charlotte when someone roughly bumps me, my phone falling from my hands.

"Watch where you're going!" a deep, fruity voice grunts.

I bend to pick it up, only to reveal the completely shattered screen. "Excuse me? You're the one who ran into me! I don't suppose you're going to pay for my phone you just shattered?" I retort.

The guy turns around and looks taken aback at my remarks. "Repeat what you just said. I dare you," he growls.

"I said: I don't suppose you're–" I speak confidently.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" His tall figure, dressed in an all black get-up contrasting against his light skin, looms over me; ominous eyes demanding authority.

"Should I care?"

"Amelia!?"

I turn around at the shouting of my name to see Emma and Charlotte heading my direction. "There you are. We've been looking for you!" Emma states.

I turn around, my mind still caught up in what just happened. He's gone.

"Is something wrong?" Charlotte asks.

"No, I'm fine. Let's go get some drinks."

We head off down the hallway in the
direction of the kitchen, where rows of bottles are lined up on the large island.

I'm pouring myself a glass of red wine when Charlotte speaks up, "So, Amelia, find any cute boys yet?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's only been one day," I joke.

"Com'on, there has to be someone who caught your interest," she teases.

"Not really."

"You totally do. Who is it?"

"We won't tell anybody!" Emma chimes in.

"Okay, I'm just going to back out of here slowly." We all laugh.

I turn around to fake leave when I run into someone, my drink spilling all over them and their white shirt.

"Woah, there!" a familiar voice says.

"Look! It's I got punched in the face guy." I chuckle.

"You know Mason?" The girls simultaneously speak.

"It's a long story," he says with a smirk.

I take a moment to absorb his appearance. His eye is a darker yellow color compared to when I first saw him in the office, and his lip is stitched up. But most noticeable is his red stained shirt, which has gone thin at contact with the wine.

"Here, I'm so sorry. Let me clean that for you." I grab a towel off the counter and start to dry his shirt.

He places his hand over mine, halting my movements. "It's okay, really."

I clear my throat, unfocusing myself from his aura, and notice that the girls have dispersed. "Where'd Emma and Charlotte go?"

"Probably on the dance floor," he says while grabbing a beer from the fridge. "So, where'd you transfer from?"

"I was homeschooled. Who gave you that bruise?" I ask back.

"Oh, this game, huh?" he chuckles. "Hey, quit smirking at me!"

"I'm not smirking!" I'm totally smirking. His smile is the prettiest thing I've seen in a while; it's not just seen on his lips, but his eyes, and heard in his voice. I can't help but give in to the unusual warmth it's providing me.

"Well, stop laughing at me." He smirks, the corner of his mouth fading up into his dimple.

"I'm not laughing!" I giggle.

"Well quit whatever it is you're doing." He rolls his eyes, but his slightly flushed cheeks would convey differently. 

The room falls to silence. This kind of thick silence would normally chill me, but tonight I feel comfortable standing here. Music pumps in the background, and the colorful disco lights provide an array of color just outside the kitchen door.

     He walks over, leaning back onto the counter beside me. Our elbows brush, but neither of us makes a move away.

"I'll tell you on one condition," he announces.

"What is it?" I eagerly inquire.

"You have to agree first!" he says, playfully nudging me.

"That's not fair!" I complain.

"Guess you won't find out then," he taunts, shrugging his shoulders and starting to walk away.

My jaw hangs slightly ajar in surprise. "Fine, fine, fine! I agree, I agree," I shout over the background noise, pausing him in his tracks.

He stays in the doorway for a moment before turning around. Placing his now half empty beer on the island, he walks towards me, his long strides quickly making up the distance. I take a few fumbled steps sliding down the counter till I'm trapped in the corner, my back against the granite.

He gently grasps my chin, tilting my head up to connect our gazes. "Let's go on a date," he murmurs.

He releases his hold and lingers for a moment, our shallow breaths is sync, before he walks out, a small smirk of victory plastered on his lips as he glances back towards me. I can't help but smile back.