I am absolutely certain that the holidays are a scam. Winter vacation should have not passed as quickly as it did, yet here I am back at school for the second semester and already with a sour attitude. The holidays lapsed faster than I could grasp, slipping through my fingers like quicksand, but now that school's back in session, the days will drag on.

I hitch my backpack further onto my shoulder, ambling through the busy parking lot. Cars manoeuvre in and out, finding a place to halt or drop off students. The bus rumbles with noise, hooting as it fills up the place, and students take their time to get to far main school building.

The January sun strikes across the pavement, bright but utterly without warmth, winter air chilling me to the very bone. Icy winds cause my teeth to chatter, and I hug my new jacket closer to my chest. I'd gotten a whole lot of new clothes during the holidays and I brand new style I'd discovered on Pinterest that snagged my attention.

Something comfortable but very chic. I'd found tons of clothes and thrift shops and sales at the mall, black jeans and funky hoodies, high-top sneakers with bright neon and cool, shredded material like scarves. I had a black beanie on my head, muffling the voice of hundreds of students as they chatted with their friends, happy to see them and saddened to be back at high school.

For me, only the latter applied. I had no friends, and I liked it that way.

"Yo, Nash!" I hear a voice yell as music blares louder from a sleek sports car as it pulls up in the parking lot.

A guy gets out of the car, and in the space next to, from an equally expensive car, another boy opens the door, the two in a strange sync with each other. The music dies down, and like a teen movie, several kids from my year turn their heads towards the pair. From their fancy Mercedes to their handsome faces. Girls in runaway-worthy clothes, guys strutting like peacocks, swarming the two like moths to a flame.

Jake Jayson and Nash Cooper.

Two of the hottest, richest kids in my grade – scratch that – in the whole freaking school.

I watch with piqued interest as Nash and Jake do their customary fist pump and then join the mass of kids that surrounds them. They ease into the crowd, welcoming the vast attention like teen celebrity heartthrobs. The fame and fawning call to them naturally and garner the eyes of all those eager to hear what they say.

I increase my pace as I pass them. I don't understand how they're so comfortable with so many eyes on them. I'd be terrified of saying something wrong, of the humiliation. Jake has raptured his audience with a story, talking animatedly, arms spreading in all directions, and the crowd laughs. Girls flutter their eyelashes at him, trying to get closer. But his eyes are focused solely on the girl at his side, his long-time girlfriend, Clarissa Tyler.

Next to Jake, Nash stands tall and quiet, silently observing the lot with his scrutinising blue eyes. His gaze travels amidst the students hovering and then lands on me. I pause, if only for a moment, and our gazes collide. Nash shows no change in emotion or movement, he just looks at me with those troublesome eyes.

I turn away, climbing the stairs to the school building.

I have no time for trouble.

**

Algebra.

My old enemy.

I'd picked up my second-semester timetable and was absolutely mortified that the first period had to be the subject I loathed most. The subject that caused the utmost pain and depression in my life from freshman year. Worse, the period goes by in dramatic slowness, the kind that makes you think the clock is actually moving backwards.

When the bell rings, I'm out before anyone else can even say a word. I rush out of the class, elbowing cussing students along the way out. Muttering insincere apologies as I do so, I manage to get passed the door's threshold without as much as a bruise.

Honestly, high school is some violent stuff.

I let out a breath of relief, sagging against the wall closest to me. My books are clumped under my hand, and I quickly make a mental checklist of all the things I brought to class earlier. Unfortunately, I did not forget to leave my algebra homework behind. I'll just have to do it then. Such a pity.

"You're waiting for someone?"

My head turns at the indistinguishable, relaxed voice of Jake Jayson, leaning against the wall next to me, his hands holding onto a thin blue folder. An easy smile is set on his handsome features, accentuating the cute dimple on his left cheek. He looks even hotter up close with that sunshine blond hair and lightly freckled nose.

I close my mouth, realising I was gaping.

"Hey. You're talking to me?" I frown, glancing around me for any signs of other students.

Somehow, amidst my musings, the corridor had cleared out.

"Yeah?" Jake chuckles, his chocolaty eyes twinkling. "I asked if you're waiting for someone."

His head motions towards the algebra class and my gaze turns towards the empty room.

"Uh, no?" I respond, my frown deepening. "What makes you think that?"

Jake shrugs, curls of blond hair falling across his eyes. "I'm guessing. It's kind of unusual seeing someone so sporadically standing here for no reason."

"I do have a reason for standing here," I shoot him a look, pushing myself off the wall. "I'm trying to avoid going to my next class."

Jake laughs out loud, his voice bouncing off the walls like music. When he's done, he wipes a stray tear from his eyes and holds out his hand, an amused look all over his handsome face. I feel my face flush at his sudden laughter, a sense of embarrassment washing over me.

"Jake Jayson," the boy states, still holding out his hand.

I shake it sceptically, his warm palm encasing in my own.

"I know that. Everyone knows that," I deadpan. "Carey Hudson."

Jake nods. "You're blunt, you know that?"

"I've been told," my shoulders lift as I drop my hand away, feeling unsure what to do with it. "Thank you, though."

"It was so much of a compliment."

"Not really, no."

"You and I are going to get along just fine, Carey," Jake grins, rocking on his heels.

My confusion mounts at his words, and a disturbing feeling begins to stir up. I've seen him numerous times in the hallways and in class, but never did we have a conversation. Jake has never made any sort of friendly attempt at getting to know me – so why did he start now?

I shoot him a look. "Jake, I've been in this high school for three years, and you want to talk to me now?"

"You're kidding!" He looks at me with puzzlement.

"That I've been in this high school or that you want to talk to me?"

"Carey, I swear I've never seen you before."

My head tilts to one side. "Is that supposed to be insulting?"

Jake's brown eyes widen a fraction, and he pushes his curly locks from his face. "No! I just thought – how have I never seen you before?"

"I blend in easily," I say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

It really is.

Why else would Jake only realise I go to the same school as me when we're literally the only two walking in an empty corridor that isn't even that big.

"Why are you standing here anyway?" I ask after a beat of silence.

Jake looks at me with half-closed eyelids, his head falling back against the wall. "I'm waiting for my friend Nash."

I nod wordlessly, looking down the hall. We stand in a comfortable quietness, Jake's odd humming the only sound. A door two blocks away squeaks open, and I bite my lip in worry. If a teacher sees me standing here, with a boy – I'm definitely in deep shit.

To my relief, Nash Cooper walks out of the class, instantly scanning the hallway for Jake. As soon as his dark eyes spot the two of us, he makes a rapid beeline, his lengthy strides quickening the short walk.

Contrasting Jake in almost every aspect, Nash is scowling, his straight black hair tousled and his eyes devoid of any emotion. Just the same as I've seen him earlier, yet he shows no hint of familiarity. He probably doesn't remember my face from not even an hour ago.

"Nash, buddy!" Jake beams happily, throwing an arm around his friend's broad shoulders.

The boy grunts, his arms crossing over his, black hoodie-cladded chest. "Why are you waiting here?"

"For you, duh," Jake says matter-of-factly, pointing towards the door. "How come I didn't see you exit the algebra class?"

"That's because I do AP maths, and I just left AP lit."

"Oh right," Jake scratches the back of his neck. "It's hard to remember you're a freaking genius, okay?"

I look between the two, wondering if I should go ahead and leave without a trace. I'm about to step a foot when Jake speaks to me. Well, not to me -– but refers to me.

"Nash, meet my new friend," Jake says as way of introduction.

Nash looks at me for a moment, then tips his head. "Hey."

"Hey," I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

"Nash, this is –" Jake starts, but his best friend cuts him off.

"Carey," he says.

I try masking my surprise that Nash knows who I am, but of course, it probably doesn't work. Not everyone can hide their feelings the way he does. The girls on the cheer squad say he's the grim reaper's incarnation like that. All black clothes, black soul, grim face.

They still drool over him.

Not that I blame them. Nash is a sight for sore eyes, and with that raw badboy edge, he's just a thousand times hotter. But it's his cold personality, his vicious words, that wards off attraction.

"You know her?" Jake voices my question incredulously.

"We've been in the same school since freshman," Nash gives his friend a flat look, then glances back at me. "Isn't that right?"

"Yeah..." I get out.

Nash shakes his head, swiping the folder from Jake's hand with as much as asking.

"C'mon we need to go," Nash says, already turning his back to leave. "As much as I hate it. I plan on passing bio anyway."

Jake shrugs, giving me one final wave before following his friend. "See you around, Carey!"

I give him a small smile, waving back. Before I know it, I'm standing alone in the corridors. The tardy bell rings, and I drop my head, going to find my locker before the swarm of students can rush at me. It's been an interesting day so far – and it's only second period.