Chapter One

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Chapter One

Good lord help the people. I am currently standing right in front of Gillian Strider, nodding my head, pretending to listen, as she complains about this and that. Usually I wouldn't give a flying shît about her oh so fragile feelings, but I had been given orders by her older sister to be nice to her. I was going to have to have a word with my best friend about her baby sister's problems.

"Harper? Are you even listening to me?"

"Not really, sorry. I am sort of out of it today." And everyday. "How bout you talk to Megan, she is your sister."

"She doesn't understand me." She states mater of factly.

"How bout Jessica?" I pray she'll turn to her best friend instead of me next time. Her freshmen drama was getting super annoying.

"That's a good idea Harper, I don't know why I didn't think of that earlier? Thanks Harper." She turns and skips down the hall. Goddàmned , skips. I wish I had that much energy about school.

I grab my phone from my pocket before walking toward my first class. It was still early enough in the year to stay comfortable outside. Early October in South Carolina was right in between the smoldering summer heat and unpredictable winter, causing it to stay in the sixties and seventies normally.

Harper: You need to tell you sister to chill

Megan: What'd she do

Harper: She kept going on and on about how high school is so hard and how none of the upper class men talk to her blah blah

Megan: Hey give her a break we were the same way our freshmen year

Harper: How my brother could stand me I have no idea

Megan: Lol

Harper: Really Megan.... Lol.... I am ashamed to call you my friend

Megan: Urghhhh your anti-abbreviation, text talk whatever is super annoying. Why are we friends again

Harper: Because if we weren't then you wouldn't have an excuse to see Alec whenever he is home

Megan: So true

I laugh at my and Megan's text, not paying any attention as I collide a brick column. The laughter dies from me suddenly, I bring my hand to my face to discover that my nose is bleeding. Exactly what I need on a Monday morning. I frown at the red sticky hand.

"That's your own fault." Snickers a voice from behind me.

I turn to find Spencer Eastwood, Northline High school notorious bad boy. He was a living cliché. He smoked, he drove a motorcycle, slept with a new girl every week, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was some kind of drug dealer. But most of all was he hot  not like American hot but European kind of hot. He had dark brown hair, rugged face, with a sharp jawline fine drawn mouth and beautiful deep blue eyes.

Snapping myself out of the spell known as Spencer, I remark. "Oh why thank you for that very necessary knowledge, I would've never figured that out without your help." I roll my eyes and put my hand to nose agin to keep the blood from staining my shirt.

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