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I was wondering how long will it take for Derek or Andrew to do something this year. I guess I had my answer now.

What I don’t understand is why is he so unnerved about this?

Why is he so pissed? So angry? What is so special about Max talking to me to make him mad like this?

Derek

This day is dragging on too much. Being pissed all the time doesn’t help either, nor does looking the hallways hoping for a certain someone to appear. Actually, it makes me even angrier. At myself. When did she get such power over me? I was able to control it before. I was able to turn it off, to ignore her for most of the time.

Not today.

School started two days ago. Two fucking days ago.

Every time I entered the classroom I looked for her.

If she wasn’t in my class, every time the bell rang, I practically ran to the hallway and looked for her. It wasn’t something conscious, something I could control, not really. It was more like my body knew. I could feel her presence around me and my body would follow it. Even without wanting it to, I would find myself turning around and looking for her, my eyes glancing over a bunch of people as I passed by trying to catch a glimpse of her strawberry blond hair. Who would have guessed it would be so easy to spot her, even in the space filled with dozens of other girls? Who would have guessed she was the only one who had that specific shade of hair, one I could see even though we were standing on the opposite sides of the hallway?

It doesn’t help much that we have three classes together. We haven’t had that many classes together in the last three years. But the funny part isn’t over yet, all of those classes, and then some more, we share with Sanders.

Yep, I guess destiny has something special prepared for me this year. And I don’t like it one bit.

Walking to my U.S. history class, I look through messages and notifications on my phone, although I’m not really interested in what I’ll find there. It’s more of a distraction. A way to stop myself from looking around for her. Keeping myself in check. That’s what I should do.

“You should definitely come.” I could recognize my best friend’s voice anywhere. I lift my eyes off the screen to look who he’s talking to. “There is no better way to spend Friday night around here.”

He’s standing close to the door of a classroom together with Sanders, all friendly and shit. I want to growl in frustration and simply pass them without saying a word, but I make myself stop behind Andrew and paste a fake smile on my face. “What’s up, man?”

“Just inviting Sanders here to the party Friday night.” Andrew looks between us. “You still coming?”

Before I can answer, Sanders interrupts with a question of his own. “You mind if I bring someone?”

The question, simple as it is, make me stand taller. For all I know he could be asking about bringing his sister. After all, they are the only new people in school. But there is something in the way he asked, in the way he smiled that makes me think otherwise.

“Sure, everyone’s invited.” Andrew shrugs it off, a smirk playing on his face. “But out of curiosity, who do you want to invite that already won’t be there?”

That’s a valid question, almost everyone from school comes to Andrew’s parties; it’s our usual place to party, get drunk, and screw with no rules or authority. It’s a place to see and be seen.

Tilting my head to the side, I looked at Max, waiting for his answer, although I’m afraid I know which name he’ll say. My hand squeezes into fists by my side and I have to loosen my grip with conscious effort. I couldn’t believe it. I’m usually easy–going dude, little could get a rise out of me, but just being in the presence of Maximilian Sanders makes me pull the reins over my self–control tighter.

“Lia.” He grins, showing off his white teeth, and I want to punch him to make it go away. “I don’t know if she’s usually going to parties, but she doesn’t look like a social butterfly to me.”

“Lia who?”

Drew frowns, probably trying to connect the name with the face. God forbid there is a girl in this town Andrew Hill doesn’t know about and didn’t screw her into oblivion. That guy is the epitome of a man–whore if you’ve ever seen one and that comes from me, who has had my fair share of girls, so I guess I can’t judge him. We all have our own demons, and we all have our own way of dealing with them.

“Amelia Campbell?” Drew looks between us still confused. “Small, red hair, dark eyes, freckles?”

“Strawberry blond,” I correct him at the same time Andrew connects dots. “Ohh, you mean Dotty.” Andrew looks at me with piercing eyes. “Strawberry blond?” he asks. “Seriously dude? Are you growing a pussy down there?”

Sanders looks between the two of us, his narrowed eyes trying to see and understand what we are not saying out loud.

“Just noticing.” I half shrug, hoping he won’t read much into it. “Chill, man.”

“When did you start noticing Dotty?”

“Why do you call Lia Dotty?” Sanders interrupts, saving me from answering.

I’m sure my best friend wouldn’t like the answer if I told him the truth by any chance. And that is that I’ve always noticed her—when we were just kids at eight, then clumsy preteens at thirteen, and even now, ten years later. I still notice her. Still see her. Some times more than others, but careful enough that I know her hair isn’t red and her eyes aren’t dark.

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