I can't believe this. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I have to stay. I could very well just leave, head to my classes without any regard for... whoever I'm supposed to be showing around today, but I'm worried about how bailing on them would look. Not that the new student seems to care about first impressions, anyway, considering they're now ten minutes late.

As I sit in the front lobby, my knee impatiently bouncing away, I check my watch. Okay, I would give them five more minutes, and then after that, they're on their own.

Then they'll be lost on their first day, thanks to you.

Well, I have classes too!

Yeah, but we both know you won't get in trouble for missing them.

Who's "we"? We're the same person. And besides, just because the faculty favored me didn't mean I was okay with abusing the privilege. Also, I want to go to my classes to claim my seat.

I check the time again. The starting bell had rung thirteen minutes ago, meaning the new kid is now thirteen minutes late. I continue tapping my foot.

After I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and exhale irritably, I send a quick text to Gwen, my best friend, for her to save me a seat next to her in English class. The counselor at the front desk clears her throat, suggesting I put my phone away.

The bell rings one last time, signaling the start of classes.

I stand to leave. Maybe the new kid isn't coming today. Maybe they aren't coming at all. At this point, I didn't care. I have a class to get to.

That's when they, or should I say she, barrels through the front doors loud and not-so proud. She's tall, possibly between five-foot six and five-foot seven, and her slim build reminds me of a runner. She wears her summer tan well, and she has this kind of natural beauty about her, and this crazy vibe I can't seem to ignore...

Get it together, Peyton.

"Hi, uh..." she mumbles to the lady at the front desk. "I'm looking for Peyton Kelly. He's supposed to be showing me around."

I roll my eyes. Well, she certainly won't find any male bits around my part of town.

"Yeah, that's me," I introduce myself sharply. "Peyton Kelly."

Hazel eyes pull their attention away from the front desk and land on me. Her eyes widen, probably out of embarrassment from realizing Peyton Kelly is in fact a girl, but who knows? Her cheeks turn red.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she apologizes as she runs one hand nervously through her dark-brown hair. "I didn't know..."

"It's fine," I reply.

She stands still for a minute, looking at me almost dumbfounded, until she realizes my purpose in being here. That's when she fishes for her schedule in her black backpack.

"It's Jamie Kendall," she finally introduces.

As she struggles to find what she's looking for, I find my anger over the whole late situation subsiding. There's something about her that's intriguing, to say the least, but I couldn't put my finger on it. But judging by her outfit that consisted of tight, black skinny jeans, a pair of Converse shoes, and a white t-shirt with the word GIRLS on it, I immediately pin her as a city girl. They were few and far between here at Branton High because, well, we're a small town located in north-central Georgia. I silently wonder how she's ended up here.

She finally finds her schedule, which is now a little crumpled, but still intact. She hands it to me.

"Great," I say while turning on my heels. "Let's go."

She falls into step next to me, which would've been more difficult had she been shorter, but the extra inches give her an advantage. I had always been told for a girl not over five-three, I sure was fast.

It came in handy for soccer season.

"This is the English hall," I start. "Your class is in this room."

She takes note but doesn't seem all that interested in the tour. If anything, she seems more interested in me. I can't help but feel the nerves bubble in my stomach.

"The school isn't as big as it seems on the outside," she assesses. "My old school was huge."

"Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

I hadn't expected that, but I knew she surely wasn't from around here.

"You're pretty far away from home," I say.

"Yeah, well..." She sighs, expressing obvious disappointment. "Trust me. It's not by choice."

I continue to show her around school, realizing halfway through her schedule that we have the same elective in the same hour block. Fourth hour art.

"Well, we have art together," I tell her. "So, you'll see a friendly face in there."

"Oh, we're friends now?" she teases. "Or is that just the infamous southern hospitality they talk about?"

I'm besides myself at the flirtatious look Jamie's giving me. Instead of saying anything I just laugh and show her the the room our art class would meet during the year. After, I lead her to the middle of the school grounds.

"And this is the quad," I finish.

The "quad" consists of four massive oak trees that were planted when the school was built many years ago. You can follow the cement walkways to the different trees that, during lunch, became the meeting grounds for different groups of students, like jocks, preps, band geeks and so forth.

"Lemme guess," Jamie observes. "It matters what tree you hang out at?"

I purse my lips at her quick observation. It was true. Whoever designed it hadn't considered how high schoolers would treat it, or maybe they had, who knows.

"Yeah." I point. "That's the prep tree, that's the freak tree, the band tree and the tree we used to call no-mans-land."

"What is it called now?" Jamie wonders.

"Uhm, it's called the pride tree," I say through a chuckle. "Believe it or not."

"What's so bad about that?" Jamie asks seriously.

"N-Nothing," I stutter.

I secretly hope I haven't offended her, but she looks at me with a playful expression instead that makes my heart flutter. I try not to let her see.

She smirks. "What tree do you think I'll end up at?"

I know exactly where she'll end up, because if I were being honest, her flirting with me made it pretty obvious. It would be weird if she didn't end up at the tree where most of the LGBT crowd congregated at this school.

"You know what, don't answer that," she interrupts my thoughts. "I'm afraid you'll say the freak tree and I'm still not sure how I feel about everyone calling it the "freak" tree. Like, what makes the kids that hang out there so freaky?"

I laugh it off, but I'm really just relieved she didn't make me answer her question.

"Nothing," I answer. "They're not freaks. Well, some of them do hiss at you if you get too close, but most of them are regular people just trying not to get involved with the social hierarchy of high school."

Jamie lifts a brow.

"And I don't blame them," I finish.

She gazes out at the quad while I watch the sunlight dance in her irises, bringing out magnificent hues. Then I notice the small nose ring that wraps around her left nostril. I find it hot, but know she'll have a hard time getting away with wearing it during school.

"Well, if I do end up at the freak tree..." Her eyes meet mine again. "I won't hiss at you."

I just keep deflecting her flirting with laughter, but I'm losing my composure. I've never been so blatantly flirted with by such an attractive person before, much less a girl. The shock of the situation results in me bailing on the invitation to flirt back and stepping away from her.

"L-Let's find your locker," I stutter.

I quickly start back to the main campus and attempt to stay ahead of Jamie so she can't see the red on my cheeks. I know what I'm feeling. I've felt it many times before. The emotions multiply rapidly until I feel the fire all over inside.

As my heart pounds in my chest, I decide that Jamie Kendall has been sent here to demolish the illusion that senior year would be easy sailing.

And maybe I kind of like that.