Just Me

I've dated, but I never made a co

As I reached school, the sprawling single-level brick structure loomed before me. The huge campus had sports fields across the back span, as far as the eyes could see. The football stadium, which brought the community out en masse during football season, was nestled off to the left. Cement pathways, lined with trees, and the student and teacher parking lots dominated the front of the building. As pretty of a picture as it made, it was still school, and students meandered slowly toward the double glass doors.

Starting through the student parking lot, I noticed, as was tradition, the football players and cheerleaders all got the really great spots up front—their cars were all foreign and expensive—while the other students, and their less than perfect cars, were forced to park in the back. This was an unspoken rule of the school. There were a few brave souls, with their less than perfect cars, who had attempted to change the status quo and were rewarded with their cars being decorated with trash. It was a blatant, yet effective, deterrent since the anonymity of the threat kept people from reporting it.

It was while I walked toward the entrance of school that I heard a motorcycle coming down the drive. I gave myself a moment to appreciate the fine curves of the Harley as well as those of the rider. He wore a black t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his chest and shoulders, but it was the full sleeves of tattoos down his arms that held me captivated. I couldn't see the designs, but the colors took my breath away. As he approached I noticed the black, well-worn boots on his feet and the faded jeans snug across the muscles of his thighs.

He parked right in the front, to the bewildered and a

He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen even from my distance. A face of all angles with his cheekbones curving into the hard line of his jaw, full lips, and eyes a color somewhere between blue and green: fringed by thick, long, black lashes. My fingers itched to sketch him.

A glance at the cheerleaders, flipping their hair and giggling, confirmed my suspicion that I wasn't the only one to find him eye-popping, tongue-dropping gorgeous. It was just as well. I pulled up my hoodie and lowered my head. Turning up my iPod, I walked past the hot boy and headed into the building.

***

“Have you seen him?” Sophia asked breathlessly as she practically pi

“Yes, I've seen him.” I couldn’t help but grin, because Sophia thought herself in love at least four times a week. The problem was, she was also fickle, and so anything could cause her to fall out of love. At the end of last year Da

“Well, the Cheers saw him too, so I'm guessing by lunch they'll all be fast friends.” I couldn't help the notes of bitterness in my tone. Grabbing my books and shutting my locker, I headed to homeroom.

After morning a

Why the groan? Because they were mean girls, and looked the part—exceedingly beautiful with long corn silk blond hair and big, bright blue eyes. They had the figures too: long, lean, and willowy. Physically, the artist in me thought they were lovely, until they opened their mouths and then the ugliness became very evident.

As it was with their whole group, they sca

A few minutes later I lifted my head again when I heard Kira—her voice sounded like nails down a chalkboard—calling to someone. It was him. I actually felt my body break out into a cold sweat as my heart seemed to triple its rhythm.

He was tall, maybe six-three, and he moved with the easy but deliberate grace of a panther. I had to agree with Sophia. He was altogether yummy, and then he smiled and I felt my world tilt on its axis. He wasn't smiling at me, but if he ever unleashed that megawatt smile in my direction, I think I would very likely melt.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to see him take the seat next to Kira right up front, since she was by far, the most beautiful girl in school, but I still felt the pang of disappointment. Not even he was immune to Kira's charms and that knocked him off the pedestal his body and face almost demanded he be on.

Mrs. MacIntosh entered the classroom, so I slipped my notebook into my backpack and pulled my ear buds from my ears. I left the hoodie up, but that didn't last long when Mrs. MacIntosh speared me with her black eyes.

“Larkspur.”

She didn't need to say anything more, and while I was pushing my hoodie down, my gaze caught a turquoise one. The sight of the new boy looking directly at me had my heart lodging into my throat. He stared, really longer than was polite, and I noticed the slight grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned back around. What the hell was that smile about?

My hands shook as I reached for my pencil, so I tried for a few calming breaths—in through my nose and out my mouth. It took five long minutes to get my nerves under control. No, that had never happened to me before: so visceral a reaction to someone. Wasn't it just my luck that when I did feel it, it was for someone who was going to have a line of girls waiting at his locker by the end of the day.

Mrs. MacIntosh took roll call and I had to stop myself from leaning forward, in all eagerness, to hear his name. She said Sebastian Ross right before the deep timbre of his voice filled the silence. “Here.”

Larkspur Ross. It had a nice ring to it and our children—black-haired, blue/green eyes—would be beautiful. What I was thinking was so not me, I actually laughed out loud.

“Care to share with everyone what you find so fu

“No, thank you.”

“Do you think you can keep your amusement to yourself?”

My eyes met those teal ones again and I couldn't help my smirk at the ridiculousness of my thoughts, but I forced my focus back to the teacher. “I will endeavor to keep my humor to myself.”