“I wonder if he has a girlfriend?” Not that it would matter anyway. I was an invisible freshman with a penchant for sticking close to my studies. Some may have even called me nerdy. I preferred bookish.
“Probably.”
The morning bell rang three times. I tugged on my shirt, which was a little tight on me since my boobs had decided to double in size over the summer, and stood up to fling my backpack over my shoulders.
“See you at lunch?” Annelise called out, and I nodded in return.
I traipsed down the hallway to the freshman lockers, pulled out my AP-English book, and slammed the orange door shut. Hurrying toward the second floor, I stopped short at a drinking fountain to wash down the Pop Tart crumbs that still stuck to my teeth.
Ice cold water streamed across my lips as I gulped down small metallic sip after sip. Without any sort of warning, someone pummeled into me, smashing my mouth against the rusty metal spout. Warmth spread from my lips, as if they’d been stung, and my teeth radiated with pain.
“Ow!” I yelled out, pulling away. My hand flew to my mouth to make sure my teeth were still all intact. When I pulled my hand away, I saw red. Literally. Blood coated my fingers.
“I’m so sorry,” a boy drawled. A warm, steady hand palmed my shoulder.
I glanced up into a fantastically golden pair of brown eyes that belonged to the boy whose name I’d only learned that morning.
“Jackson, you asshole,” he yelled out toward a group of guys climbing the stairs in the distance. His free hand flew to the back of his neck, massaging it as his dark brows lifted in apology. “My buddy shoved me into you. I’m so sorry.”
I dabbed the back of my hand against my mouth and checked it. The bleeding seemed to have subsided, but only slightly. My cheeks burned hot with crimson embarrassment. The boy I’d been crushing on from afar since the first day of school was standing in front of me for the first time ever, and he was going to forever remember me as the dorky freshman with the bleeding lips.
“You need me to walk you to the nurse?” he offered. “Looks like you got cut there. Maybe we should make sure you don’t need stitches?”
“Is it that bad?!” I frantically reached into my purse and pulled out a mirror, examining my lips and panicking when they seemed to be growing more swollen, throbbing harder by the second.
“Nah, it’s not that bad,” he said with a half-smile, his eyes pausing on my mouth and making me a million times more self-conscious. “Here, come with me.”
That day began like any other day – boring and ordinary. But then it all changed the second he took my hand and pulled me down the hall. Electric currents ran from his hand to mine, chasing up my arm and settling in my heart before flurrying around in my stomach. Beaumont Mason was touching me. Taking me with him, wherever we were going. Taking care of me: a nobody freshman.
“What’s your name?” he asked in his slow Southern drawl.
“Dakota,” I said, before pretending I didn’t know his. “Yours?”
“Beau.”
The tardy bell rang as we ran down the empty halls. Normally I’d have been freaking out about being late for class, but in that moment, I couldn’t have cared less.
“Where are we going?” I giggled like the shamelessly giddy schoolgirl I was.
He stopped us short of a side door to the cafeteria kitchen. Everyone knew students weren’t allowed in there, but he just walked in there like he owned the place.
“Gramma,” he twanged. His full lips twisted into a mischievous smile, suddenly showcasing the slanted scar above his upper lip. “You still here?”
“Beau, baby, is that you?” A hairnet donning woman with a jovial smile and generous plump curves appeared from behind a prep counter. She appeared to be more amused than anything else. “What are you doing in here, boy?”
“Need some ice, Gramma.” He nodded toward me, and I suddenly realized we were still holding hands.
The white-haired woman grabbed a plastic sandwich baggie and went to the freezer, filling it full of ice and handing it to him.
And then he dropped my hand, making me realize just how quickly you could miss something you’d only had for a tiny fraction of your short little life.
I reached for the bag, but he pulled it away, opting to place it over my lip for me, as if I couldn’t do it myself.
I drew in a tight breath when the freeze burned my cut.
“You two better get to class,” his grandmother warned. “Beau, you know you can’t be in here.”
He flashed her a teasing smirk and leaned across me, grabbing two fresh cookies off a hot baking tray and slipping one into my jacket pocket.