~ Slade ~

The next few moments pass by in a blur.

One minute, we're all gnawing out the window, and the next, we're calling for the check and struggling to climb out of the booth all at once. Somewhere, a foot gets stepped on, a shoulder is slapped, and a cramp develops in someone's side. But none of that deters us from rushing out the door of Jimmy's Egg and booking it across the street to school.

Well, the guys are booking it across the street, anyway. I go to, but then remember I have my truck and need to move it over to the school parking lot. The guys have no issue in leaving me behind to catch another glimpse of the beautiful, unknown woman walking into campus. They only wave me off when I rev my truck up and flip the bird when I remind them of how terrible they are as friends.

Would you believe me if I told you one of those idiots has a girlfriend?

But we don't want to paddle that side of the canoe.

I shake my head and pull into a parking space next to Maverick's ugly ass truck. My ride isn't much better to look at with her dents, scratches, and creaks, but at least she doesn't look like days old vomit. And she's newer by a few years, so I'll take my girl any day.

The guys are long gone by the time I grab my backpack off the front seat and toss it over my shoulder. There's only seven minutes before my 9'o'clock starts, so unfortunately, I'll have to wait to find the girl later. I try not to cringe at how creepy that sounds and switch it up. If I see her today, cool. If I don't, then oh well. She has enough people gaping after her. She doesn't need one more.

Adjusting the strap on my shoulder, I tuck my other hand into my front pocket and make my way to my Gen-Ed class with Mr. Porter. It's some bullshit history lecture I have to take, according to my advisor, but seeing as how it's my last semester of taking Gen-Eds before I get into the classes for my major, I guess it isn't so bad.

"What's up, Cap?" someone calls out behind me before I enter the classroom. I look back and catch one of my teammates, EJ, holding a hand out to me in greeting.

I slap his hand and lean forward to bump his shoulder. "About to head into Porter's class. What's up, man?"

EJ's brown eyebrows wiggle. "You know what's up. You see that girl walk in today?" he whistles, shaking his head. "Beautiful."

"There's lots of pretty girls here, EJ. How am I supposed to know which one you're talking about?" I snort, but that's a lie. I know exactly who he's talking about. "Is that why everyone's buzzing?"

"It's not like we get many new kids here in bumfuck nowhere, Slade. Especially new kids who look like that. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone's going to try to get her attention at some point today."

EJ had a point. It's not very often we get newcomers in our small town, but when we do, there's not much of a commotion that arises from it. At least not to this extent, anyway. There'll always be some gossip, but from what I've gathered just by walking into the history building, the entire school could be talking about her for weeks to come. No doubt gathering envy, curiosity, and awe.

And by the stupefied look on EJ's face, I know he's one step away from skipping class to hunt down the girl for just another look at her. Who the hell is she? And how does she have every student at Normrock University under her spell?

"That's true," I finally admit, then glance at my classroom. "But hey, I have to go, man. See you on the field later."

EJ shakes my hand one more time before departing. "Later, Cap."

I shove my backpack further up onto my shoulder and turn around to head into Mr. Porter's class. Serene and Alma, two girls I've known since grade school, offer me sugary smiles and greet me with soft hellos. I return their smiles with a grin and nod at them, before plopping myself in a seat at the back of the room. A few of my teammates linger nearby in seats close to mine, and we all make small talk for a minute or so until Mr. Porter comes tumbling in with a coffee in one hand and a short stack of books in the other. His salt-and-pepper curls are just as hay-wired as he is, and he throws an apologetic grin to the rest of us with some excuse as to why he's late.

I push my chin into my palm, already bored. I tune out the lingering chatter by closing my eyes, while Mr. Porter gets ready for lecture and fill my mind with plays I have no choice but to memorize before the next game. Playoffs are coming soon, and I have to be on my A-game. If I'm not, my team suffers. And then I suffer. And as the team captain, I can't let any of us down.

A nudge at my shoe startles me awake. My eyelids peel open and I look to my left, catching my teammate Kang's suggestive eyebrows, as he shifts his eyes over to the front of the room. I frown and turn my head to follow his line of sight.

Unlike earlier, it doesn't take long for me to find the source of everyone's attention.

And what do I do?

I fucking choke on air.

Because what else could I do, when the beautiful girl with the long curls, gold butterfly clips, and curvy legs zeroed her pretty brown eyes on me? And not just any pretty brown eyes. They're the pretty brown eyes that are framed by thick, long lashes that naturally shade over the intensity of her liquid honey eyes that darken around the edges of her iris. The kind that searches every crevice of my soul and exposes every damn secret I don't have.

The curve to her full lips are hypnotizing. Absolutely-fucking-hypnotizing. No pair of lips should ever be that naturally red, smirking at me with just the right amount of shyness and confidence that only someone like her can possess. Inviting, enchanting, you know, any damn ingredient it takes to kill a person.

And yet, that isn't what's unsettling.

No. What's unsettling is how strangely close to perfect she is.

There's no blemish, no freckle, no mole, nothing on her smooth brown skin in sight. Her hair holds curl patterns that all match underneath the butterfly clips that sprinkle over the back of her hair, and even the exposed lengths of the finest legs I've ever seen are crystal clear. No random bruises, no scrapes, no razor marks, and no hair.

It's almost . . . odd.

And when she walks towards me at the back of the room, I nearly swallow my choking tongue. Everyone's too distracted by her beauty to notice how elegant her glides are when she walks or how stupid I sound coughing at nothing. It's like an invisible runway is laid out like a red carpet everywhere she walks, and she doesn't even have to do the occasional look down at her feet to make sure she doesn't trip over a rip in a carpet or uneven cement piece on the sidewalk. If anything . . . she's sort of . . . almost . . . hovering over the ground? What the hell?

I blink, and remove my eyes from her legs to watch her plop down in the empty seat diagonal from me in the row ahead of mine. A rush of Spring's best perfume snakes its way up my unsuspecting nostrils and I exhale hard before the floral mixture can get the chance to mess with my head. Of course she smells just as good as she fucking looks. How else would the universe find her entertainment? When torturing me is so much better?

Half the class is still gaping at the girl beside me, while she is busy rummaging in her bag for whatever it is she's looking for. Kang's sitting up straighter in his chair, Maverick is not so subtly undressing her with his perverted eyes, and Serene levels her gaze at her curiously. I barely pay attention to any of them long enough, for the mystery woman turns her brown eyes on me again, and I sit there like a frozen idiot.

Her alluring smile calls to me like a siren as she leans in my direction, pushing another waft of flowers towards me. I bite my tongue to hold back the urge to inhale it. I know for a fact it's certain death if I do.

And then she speaks to me.

"Do you happen to have an extra pencil I can borrow for the day? I seem to have left mine at home," she whispers, her voice melting me to my seat despite the strange way she phrased her words.

Good gods, she's everything. Can a woman be any more breathtaking? Her voice is the perfect balance of velvet and soothing. Not too boisterous, not too high, and definitely not too extra like half the girls at my school have.

Fuck, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she's the BIPOC Mary fucking Poppins. Practically perfect in every damn way. Sent to rescue me from history class.

I fight through my stunned silence to grab the pencil on the edge of my desk and shove it in her direction, words lost on my tongue. Her answering smile is dazzling, and she stretches her hand across the space between us, careful not to touch my shaking fingers as she plucked the writing utensil from them. Her subtle wink shakes my world, and I lose myself in the hidden charm of her grin.

I don't even know this girl and I'm already drawn into her. Weirdness and all. Shit.