JACK'S POV

I'm just about finishing Chapter 5 of the story that I'm writing in my journal when I feel a hand playfully whack my head.

"Waddup, J?" my best friend Rafe says as he comes into view, taking the space on the concrete ledge beside me. 98 percent of the reason why I hang out with him is because his extreme douchiness takes away from my douchiness, making me look good. The other 2 percent is because he's been a homie since day one, just like my other best friend Johnny. "Hemmings is going to lose his shit if he sees you on school property cutting class right now, bro."

I pick my head up slightly from my journal to look at him. "Yeah, and what's your excuse, dipshit?"

"Free period, wiseass," he states, grinning at me conceitedly. He angles his back against the wall and fans his legs out. "Meanwhile, Johnny's out here with a straight-A record, making the both of us look like fucking delinquents."

"Hey, speak for yourself. I'm not failing every single class like you," I say, keeping my eyes down as I continue to write.

"Right, right, because how can Jack Carrington be a delinquent when he loves to write in his stupid, precious journal," he mocks, scanning me up and down. "What the fuck are you even writing in there?"

"None of your business," I assert, right before he tries reaching for my journal. "Don't even think about it, asshole," I warn him, holding it away.

"Damn, I forgot how touchy you are when it comes to that thing. I must say, though, very strategic on your part."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He nods his head at my journal. "Girls eat that shit up. They love a romantic."

"Writing doesn't make me a romantic, dumbass."

"So then...why do you even do it?"

"Rafe," I huff, "just shut the fuck up, okay?"

"Fine, fine. I'll drop it," he says, holding his palms out. "In all seriousness, though, Hemmings is going to suspend you if you miss one more class."

"Relax, Rafe. Hemmings won't do shit."

"Maybe not. But your dad will."

"Ask me if I give a fuck. That man is so preoccupied planning my future he doesn't care about my present."

"J," Rafe says, waiting for me to pick my head up at him before continuing. "It wouldn't kill you to be grateful for the opportunities you have. I know I am."

I gaze at him and then chuckle because Rafe doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body. "There's no way you're getting deep on me right now."

"I'm serious."

"Rafe, you're just grateful that your family's money gets you ass in this town."

"Okay, fine, maybe. But, hey, I'm still grateful."

I shake my head at him and widen my eyes. "You're one of a kind, Rafe."

"And that's why you love me."

Having enough of this conversation, I drop my feet down so that they hit the grass, and assemble my briefcase, filling it up with a few books, one in which I have to return to the school library.

Rafe grabs my old edition of Othello before I can stow it away and then says, "Hold up a sec. What's this shit now?"

"This," I say, gripping the book back from him, "is not shit, Rafe. It's literature."

"Boring is what it is."

I laugh at his aloofness. "I gotta go."

"You're just going to leave me here to fend for myself?"

I scan the area and notice one of Jordana's blonde-haired friends sitting alone at a table. "Look," I say, angling Rafe's body in her direction, "there's Britt Walsh. You've been trying to get with her all summer. Now's your chance."

"Ha, very funny. Perk of being a Royal in this town is that you never have to try when it comes to...well...anything."

And with that, I shake my head at him once more in disbelief and finally get on my way.

"Don't forget, J. Practice starts in an hour," Rafe calls out, and I just wave him off with my hand behind my ear.

I'm so familiar with the route to the school library that I get there in less than 5 minutes, which – given the massive size of SP's property – would take the average person double the amount of time.

I roll my eyes at the plaque outside the library door that reads: "The Carrington Study, Generously Donated By William Carrington & Family". It's just a reminder that my dad controls, pretty much, everything in my life.

I'm about to greet the school librarian Tracy when I hear a voice tell her, "I'd like to inquire about the open assistant position."

My eyes put a face to the voice when they take in a light-brown haired girl standing in front of Tracy's desk. Tracy doesn't pay her much attention, but for some reason, I do. Her hair is tied up in a pony that's held together by a green ribbon that matches the plaid uniform she's wearing.

When Tracy asks for her name, I make sure to listen. While I'm terrible with names, I'm great with faces, and I'm 100-percent sure that I've never seen this girl around before.

She answers with 'Anastasia Moore' and mentions that she's a Senior, like me. Tracy directs her to one of the tables and I feel my eyes follow her motion. I'm intrigued. She seems so focused that I don't think she sees me standing here.

Tracy doesn't notice me either, so I head for one of the bookshelves that's nearby and pretend to skim. I don't have all the time in the world, but I find myself wanting to wait for her interview to be done. She must really not care about her reputation at this school if she's applying to be the library assistant.

When I notice that the interview is over, I make my way back to the front of the library. Anastasia is too busy slipping her name tag in her pink backpack to notice that I'm walking toward her, and bumps into me. Let's be honest, I could've avoided the collision by stepping to the side, but I didn't want that.

I must've caught her off-guard because she doesn't say anything. Instead, she's looking at me with doe-eyes. But, she's not the only one. I'm failing to speak, too.

The first thing that I notice is her cupid bow lips, which I'm a sucker for. And then her freckles. They're not super visible, but if you look close enough, you can make them out.

I'm lucky when Tracy suddenly breaks the silence and calls out to me, otherwise this would be a very bad look on my part. I never wear my heart on my sleeve.

"Hi, Tracy," I respond, breaking myself out of this weird daze that I was just in, and hold out Othello to her. "I have this for you."

"How'd you like it?"

"You were right. A classic."

"I told you," she says, taking the book from my grip and placing it off to the side. "What's next then?"

"How about something by Hemingway? Surprise me."

She smiles before standing up. "I know just the book."

For a second, I start to panic because she leaves me alone with Anastasia. And while I'm always smooth with my words when it comes to the opposite sex, this girl has me feeling all kinds of nerves that I'm not familiar with.

Luckily, my phone rings at just the right time, so I reach for it in my back pocket.

Fucking Rafe.

"Yo," I say into the speaker, and he immediately starts whining about how I'm going to be late for lacrosse practice. Shit, Coach is going to freak, but I lie to Rafe because the last thing that I need is for this composed, beautiful girl to see me acting all concerned. "He's not going to force us to run laps, you pussy. I'll be there in 5."

Knowing that I need to get my shit together, I do something that I'm infamous for: I act like an asshole.

"You know, it's not very nice to eavesdrop on other people's conversations," I tell her, purposely keeping my eyes off of her. If they stay on her, I can't promise you that I won't act like putty in her hands.

And suddenly, her composed demeanor turns into nervousness. Despite the fact that I'm trying to act like a dick right now, I hate that I turned her body language into apprehensiveness.

"Oh," she says. "I-I wasn't."

"Right. You weren't," I condescendingly say, hating myself even more now. But this is what I do. Instead of giving people my vulnerability, I give them my arrogance.

Tracy returns with The Sun Also Rises in her hand, but my snide remark gets Anastasia to walk away. Shit, I didn't mean to deter her.

I watch Anastasia proceed for the door and I know that Tracy catches me eyeing her. I don't really care, though.

"Chef Moore's daughter," Tracy explains once Anastasia is no longer in the library. Tracy has known me for years, so she's aware that I want to know more about SP's new girl but have too much pride to ask. "She's new to Sinclair."

"Yeah, I figured," I say, my eyes still fixated on the door like that'll make Anastasia reenter.

"Seems like somebody has finally caught your eye, huh, Jack?" Tracy insinuates.

I look back at Tracy and scoff. "Not in a million years."

But what I'm really thinking is: Yeah. Seems like somebody finally has.