I've dated, but I never made a connection to someone like the one Poppy and Shawn shared. I didn't exude the preppy, perky vibe, nor was I good at making meaningless small talk. I couldn't ask a question of someone merely to ask it and not be at all interested in the answer. I found their insincerity, of those I've tried dating, annoying.

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 annoyed glances of the popular crowd, before he climbed from his bike: that movement causing a beautiful play on his muscles. He lifted off his helmet revealing what I had only caught a glimpse of—long, inky-black hair that brushed his very impressive shoulders.

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 pinned me to my locker. “I think I'm in love. He's yummy.”

“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 Danny Keener was the love of her life. Her crush on him lasted two months until one day he showed up to school wearing a yellow polo shirt and just like that, her heart moved on. I didn't get it, but then Sophia was a bit odd, which was one of the many reasons I loved her. I did as a dutiful friend would and ate ice cream with her and watched romantic comedies until she pulled herself from her self-induced funk at yet another relationship failure.

“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 announcements, I dragged my feet down the hall to English Literature and took a seat in the back of the class. I pulled out my notebook and started to sketch. Students had gotten their class assignments a few weeks ago and as I did every year, I avoided learning who I shared classes with until school actually started, so I wouldn't stew about it over summer break. Seeing Kira and Mica, I groaned out loud, it was because of them I had that rule.

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 scanned the classroom to see who was in their midst. Anyone they deemed cool, they smiled to and giggled at and anyone currently on their bash list got the eye—the evil eye. I saw very little smiling coming from Kira, but it was Mica's expression that interested me, because it seemed so out of character. Not only wasn't she glaring at people, she looked rather meek as she stood behind Kira staring only at her books. Could it be she had learned at last that her treatment of people was wrong? I wouldn't have believed her capable of empathy, but people did change.

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 funny, Miss O’Bannion?” I had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, including Mrs. MacIntosh.

“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.”