"I'll be right back. I'm running to the bathroom," Molly says as I reach for my backpack that's resting on the bleacher. "Meet you in the parking lot?"

"Sounds good," I tell her. My dad texted me letting me know that he was getting ready to leave soon so I offered Molly a ride home with us.

Once I make it to the staff lot, I send my dad a message saying 'Here' to let him know that I'm waiting. I drop my backpack to the cement ground because it's way too heavy to stay around my shoulders.

"Yo, J, I'll catch you later," I hear a male voice call out, so I pick up my head and look in that direction.

"Later, man," says Jack, who's walking my way. He must've just showered because he's wearing black joggers and a thin white v-neck t-shirt. His sandy hair looks darker than usual because it's wet, and he's carrying a duffle bag across his body.

Even though he's standing several feet away, I can distinctly smell the luscious scent of the soap that he probably just rubbed all over his body.

To make it seem like I wasn't just staring at him, I open the Sinclair Prep app and start scrolling through some random article.

"Eavesdropping again, I see," Jack says, and it's his proximity that's responsible for the nervous energy pulsing through my body right now.

"I wasn't eavesd-," I stop myself. It's no use. "Whatever," I mutter.

"Not even going to deny it this time?" he says, arching an eyebrow at me.

"What does it matter? Would you believe me if I did?"

He gets even closer to me, dropping his duffle bag to the floor, and I feel my curiosity betraying the rest of my body.

"Maybe," he shrugs. "If you made a good argument."

"I shouldn't have to argue my point. You should believe me regardless."

"That so?"

"Mhm," I say.

"How can I believe someone I don't even know?"

"I don't know. Trust."

"Well, how can I trust someone I don't even know?"

I study him intently as his suave demeanor stays perfectly intact. It's safe to say that it probably takes a lot to break this man. "Guess you can't."

He nods in agreement. "Guess I can't."

He reaches for his duffle bug and I see the veins in his muscular arm bulge when he goes to pick it up. He swings it over his body and then makes his way toward me.

"Little piece of advice for you," he says, tilting his head at the school building, "it can be a cruel place in there."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

"Relax. It's just a warning. Keep to your kind."

"My kind?"

"Anastasia, there you are!" I hear my dad call out, and Jack whips his head over his shoulder to look at my dad, who's still dressed in his work clothes.

"Yeah. Your kind," he smiles maliciously, turning back to face me. "Chef Moore," Jack mockingly salutes when my dad stops in front of us.

And just like that, he's sauntering away like the prick that he is.

***

The rest of the week breezes by and I can't believe that I've already completed my first week of Senior year at Sinclair Prep. It's Saturday and my dad is spending the day at home, unpacking the rest of our boxes from the move. I plan to work on my college essay, and decide to hit up the local coffee shop Ground Central.

I'm happy that I decided to bring my bike with me from the move. I almost left it in Chicago because my dad was complaining that there was no room for it in the truck. I don't have my license yet and this town is pretty small, so I know that having it will come in handy.

I slip my backpack into the woven basket that hangs from the handlebars and then make my way over to Ground Central. I'm a visual learner, so I made sure to memorize the directions before I left my house.

It's about a ten-minute bike ride, and once I pull up to the spot, I lock my bike to the rack that's on the sidewalk.

I enter the cafe and the smell of fresh coffee beans hits my nostrils, signaling me to order my latte first before taking a seat at one of the tables.

Ground Central reminds me of the coffee shop that I'd frequent a lot back in Chicago. They both lend this peaceful vibe thanks to their greenery and wooden decor.

I glance over at the bakery display case as I wait in line, already knowing that I'm ordering a croissant, but slowly peel my focus away when the line moves forward. And then, I make eye contact with someone I wasn't expecting to see standing on the other side of the counter.

"Henry?"

"Hey!" he remarks.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

He points to the name tag on the top corner of his shirt and then says, "I work here."

"Duh," I say, shaking my head in embarrassment. He's smiling at me, which definitely takes away from my humiliation.

I give Henry my order and he tells me that he'll call my name when it's ready. I give him a smile and then proceed for one of the communal tables that's by the window.

I plug my laptop charger into the outlet next to my chair, and when I pick my head up, I notice Henry making his way over to me with my order.

"I'm sorry. I must've not heard you call my name."

"I didn't. Door-to-door service," he smiles as he carefully places the porcelain cup and plate onto the table. "I only do it for people that I like."

"That's so nice. Thank you," I smile.

"Of course."

He's about to walk away when I remember something. "Henry," I call out, and he immediately turns around with an excited look on his face. "What's the Wi-Fi password?"