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August 9

Voices of various volumes and rates echo all around me as I sit in the cafeteria and try not to focus on the class I've skipped to be with Riley. It's not too bad, I admit, picking food over studies. I don't regret it, hoping I'll get to go home sooner than usual. I would be happier, however, if my company wasn't so terrible.

One of the things I despise is being a third-wheeler, sitting beside my recently-committed best friend who either can't stop talking about her new 'man' or has clearly lost control of her facial muscles. Ever since she got asked out by the second hottest quarterback of Gordon Blake High School, she's been floating in seventh heaven and vaguely resembles a misty-eyed toad waiting for the princess to come and kiss its slimy lips and set it free of its disgusting body. For Riley, though, it's about losing her virginity and not her scales.

"There's something on your face," I point out.

She lifts her gaze from her phone to blink several times at me as if she's forgotten I'm beside her. After a moment, she frowns.

"What?" she asks.

"Drool. You're drooling," I point out, wanting to grab her phone and toss it in the trashcan.

Okay, I get it: Carlos is hot. The prospect of him asking out someone like Riley, who doesn't even sit six feet within this table's radar in the cafeteria, is nothing short of surprising. Maybe that's why I'm suspicious of him. Maybe he's planning to lure her into his trap and skin her alive or sacrifice her for some gory cultist ritual. Telling that to Riley is pointless. She blames it all on my repeated watching of Black List and Criminal Minds.

She's in denial, though because she's love-struck. Sure, Carlos is beautiful, with his chiseled jaw and dark hair and pearly whites. He's got the looks to make girls swoon and the charms to melt them. His crooked smile that halfway resembles a smirk and his original pickup lines are quite adorable.

Too bad he's chock-full of cow-dung.

"I am not," Riley whines, returning to texting.

I groan and throw my head back, sliding down in my seat.

It doesn't make any sense to me why she's so obsessed with him. It makes even less sense that he's sitting right across the cafeteria with his gang of rowdy quarterbacks and star football players and yet he won't call her to sit at the same table. If he's really interested in her, shouldn't he be flaunting her and showing her off to his friends instead of texting her from under the table while he laughs along with the guys he calls friends?

Putting the thought of Riley and her useless new boyfriend who will probably end up dumping her as soon as he finds someone hotter, I lower my gaze to my food. The hash browns and tater tots in my plate look like soggy mush and, despite how hungry I am, I don't feel like taking a bite. My stomach growls in protest. It would be better to just get something from the vending machine instead of torturing my body by eating the greasy potatoes.

It's weird how hungry I always am.

"I'm going to get something to eat before I head to class," I tell Riley. "You coming?"

Riley shakes her head, too engrossed in texting. I'm beginning to regret skipping World History to sit with her while she stared non-stop at her phone. When I told Marla and Rachael anything is better than Mr. Carter's class, I didn't know how wrong I was. Even sleeping through his long pointless debate about which Mughal emperor caused the downfall of the empire in India would have been better than watching my friend make googly eyes at her phone before making googly eyes at the guy who doesn't even look her way.

"Okay, bye," I mumble. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I stand up with the plate of untouched cafeteria food in hand.

I'm about to toss it into the trashcan before leaving, when someone bumps into my outstretched hand and sends the plate flying to the floor.

"Hey, watch it!" I say even before I can tell who it is. Unfortunately, though, when I look up, I see myself face to face with Carlos.

He glances down at the spilled food then looks back at my face, hovering over me with his broad shoulders and frustratingly tall height. Instead of looking intimidating, though, he only looks dumb when he chuckles.

"Calm your knickers," he says in his deep voice. "I was walking in a straight line. You're the one who butted into my path."

My jaw nearly hits the floor. Okay, maybe he's right about the facts but does it really matter whose fault it is? Can't he just say 'sorry' and walk away? It's not like I was particularly looking forward to the rock-hard potato junk but it's instinctive for a person to get defensive when someone bumps into them.

But I'm as much of a stubborn cookie as he is, so if he's expecting me to back down and tremble on my feet, he's got another thing coming.

"I didn't butt into your path," I counter. "You don't own this school, you know."

"You want to mess with me, princess?" Carlos asks in his sexy Spanish accent, leaning in slightly and smiling so that I want to smack his face.

"I want you to get out of my face," I snap, taking a step back.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I --"

"Dude, just let it go. What is wrong with you?" someone intervenes, appearing at Carlos' side and nudging him back.

Even though I'm hating everything and everyone right now -- including Riley who is too busy staring at Carlos to stand up in my favor -- I can't help but turn to look at the soft voice that speaks up for me. It comes as no surprise, then, to see none other than the famous Shane Gray looming over Carlos like an overwhelming cloud.

He's almost as tall as Carlos. His beauty, however, is so different from his with his sparkling gray eyes and windswept brown hair that falls in lazy waves over his forehead. His arms are long and lean unlike Carlos' broad and muscular ones. Yet somehow, Shane manages to outplay Carlos on the field. He even manages to outsmart everyone in the school. Even his attire is unique. While the entire football team and most of the students prefer T-shirts and jackets, Shane carries his own button-downs and wears graceful coats over them when the snow begins to fall. Despite how unconventional it is, he manages to pull it off.

In other words, Shane Gray is perfect.

"Listen, I'm sorry he's a jackass," he says to me, his eyes as sincere as his smile as he bends over and quickly scans the damage done. "I could help you pick these up but I strongly advise not eating them. You see how dirty this floor is? I could buy you some more if you're --"

"That's okay," I blurt out, completely caught off guard by his unwarranted kindness.

Of course, I'm not going to be eating food off the floor, but it's nice how he's offering to buy me more so I won't destroy my stomach by eating footprint food.

I've heard about it before, people quoting how nice Shane is to everyone. Always smiling, always ready to lend a hand or help out with whatever needs to be done, Shane is one of the sweetest people in school. I haven't interacted with him much, seeing him from afar as he laughs with Carlos and the other boys or races across the field. Maybe that's why his unexpected compassion surprises me.

Either that or I'm not used to it anymore.

Most people don't care. It's safer to pretend nobody is hurting and stay out of their business. At least that's what we tell ourselves. Maybe it's a survival mechanism. From our hunting-gathering ancestors, we learned to stay out of fights and not partake in conflict unless it's got something to offer us in the end. Unless it's territory or mate, then, maybe we're not so keen on picking arguments and butting heads.

Maybe I've just been reading too much historical anthropology.

"Are you sure?" Shane insists as Carlos attempts to slide away amongst the group of players that has caught up to the boys now. Shane doesn't shift, though, his gray eyes boring into mine as if he's worried I'm going to starve to death or perhaps cry over Carlos' behavior when I'm alone.

"I'll be fine," I say a little too harshly, finding it hard to slip out of my regular persona.

I should be nicer, seeing how Shane is considerate enough to apologize for his friend's rudeness when he doesn't have to. It should be the dickhead Carlos who offers to help. Instead, Shane does it. Even as I feel a bit guilty for snapping at Shane when he's only trying to help, he smiles softly at me.

"No hard feelings, you know?" With one last smile, he tips his head toward me before taking a couple of steps back. He turns away and follows his friends out of the cafeteria, leaving me wondering ...

... How he can be so freaking nice all the time?

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A/N: Chapter one, guys! And I'm so excited! Views about Shane? I know there are other characters in the chapter but he's the lead so yeah! Take a look at the media above if you want to know how I imagine him. I'll share a picture of Taylor too in the next chapter <3