Kayla's POV

It's Monday morning and I am sitting front row in Western Civ class, eager for the lecture to begin. Last week the professor discussed greek mythology, and I was fascinated to learn some backstories of my favorite heroes like Achilles and Perseus.

I'm making some doodles in the margin of my notebook while the teacher is taking attendance. I raise my hand and say "here" when my name is called. Then suddenly, I hear the professor call out, "O'Brien? Dylan O'Brien?"

"Present!" Dylan's voice rings out from behind me, and I turn around in disbelief. How is he in this class? I don't remember him being here before today.

Dylan is one row behind me, and when I twist in my desk and make eye contact with him he winks at me.

My heart skips a beat.

I immediately turn away, and stare straight ahead at the whiteboard, even as I feel his warm brown eyes bore into the back of my head.

Why should I even care that he's in my class? It's a free country, he can do whatever he pleases. But why does he have to wink at me?

"Today we will be delving deeper into more tales of antiquity, and specifically discussing the Trojan War," the professor previews. "Now, who can tell me, what was the cause behind that war?"

I know the answer, but I am too timid to raise my hand.

"A cheating whore," Dylan bellows, and I hear rumblings of whispers go all through the classroom.

I am fighting every urge to turn around and look at him. Clearly attention is what he's after, and I am not going to give him any more of it.

"Mr. O'Brien?" the professor checks his roster, and then pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "Please, elaborate, won't you?"

"Well, from what I remember, Helen, believed to be the most beautiful woman in the world, was married to a Spartan king, but when a certain Trojan prince showed up, she decided to fuck around on her husband--"

"Language, Mr. O'Brien," the professor interjects.

"Sorry...she was unfaithful to her husband, and basically ran away to Troy with her new boyfriend, Paris. Needless to say, the king went after his woman, and so the war ensued."

"Some scholars believe Helen was abducted by Paris," I blurt out, and now I feel the entire room shifting the focus onto me, and I instantly regret my comment.

"That is true," the professor concurs, and I am grateful for his affirmation. "Some sources say she was stolen away in a raid, against her will. Some say she fell in love with Paris, and left willingly."

"I say, she's a two-timing slag," Dylan continues his obnoxious commentary, and it elicits some laughs from the students.

I turn around and face him. "If you knew about the Judgement of Paris, maybe you would know that Aphrodite promised Helen to Paris as a bribe for choosing her as the fairest of the goddesses. So, it wasn't exactly Helen's choice!" I say louder than I planned.

Dylan leans in across his desk and says with an ironic smirk, "You do know it's just a myth, right, blondie? As in, not actual history. No need to get so heated."

I feel my blood boil, and I squint at him menacingly.

Dylan leans in closer, and adds in a half whisper, "The way you're getting all hot and bothered defending this fictional woman is kind of adorable though. I think I like this feisty side of you, blondie," he says, and gives me a wolfish grin.

I turn away from him, feeling so annoyed that I wish I could smack that smug look off his face.

The lecture turns to Homer's Iliad, and I want to pay attention, I do, but all my brain seems to go back to is Dylan's words. Is he teasing me just for kicks? Why did he wink at me, does he have a nervous tic or something? Is he actually flirting with me? Why does he keep calling me "blondie"? And why does it bother me so much?

Before long, the class is over, and I start to pack up my stuff. I zip up my backpack, and sling it over my shoulder, about to head out, when Dylan hops over the front row of desks, and stands in front of me, blocking my way.

"Hey, blondie, wanna go grab a cup of coffee with me?" he asks, sticking his hands in his pockets, and staring at me expectantly.

"I...er...why--" I stammer, feeling completely caught off guard.

"Because I'd love for you to teach me more about greek mythology," he quips, and flashes his pearly whites at me.

"No, why do you keep calling me 'blondie'? It's pretty annoying, and kind of of rude," I tell him, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Well, because you never officially introduced yourself," he says. "I mean, I told you my name, and you never told me yours, so who's the one being rude here?"

"If you were paying attention during roll call, maybe you would've figured it out," I tease him back.

He comes up closer, a little too close actually. "Of course I payed attention...Kayla."

Dylan pronounces my name slowly, as his eyes are searing into mine. He then does the most unexpected thing...he takes my hand in his, and brings it up to his lips. I want to move, but my limbs have suddenly turned to mush.

Dylan lowers his head, and without breaking eye contact with me, ever so lightly presses his lips to my knuckles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kayla," he says, and holds my gaze.

I'm completely lost in his eyes, and in the warm sensation still lingering on my fingers.

I really have to pull myself together!

"Uh...hum..." I clear my throat, and pull away my trembling hand. "I have to go," I tell him, breaking eye contact and pushing past him.

I think I hear him say something, but I just run out of the classroom, and don't look back.