“Are they paying you? The high school?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. We have enough money, I think. We live in a huge house in the most exclusive part of town, with a gorgeous view of the lake. We have a dock on the lake too, though we don’t own a boat yet, despite having lived here now for a year.
At first I thought it was isolating, living on the lake. Now I realize it’s a coveted spot, and lots of kids party near my neighborhood, which really isn’t a neighborhood at all, not like we used to live in. Everything’s so spread out, and everyone owns so much land, including us.
There’s a spot on the ridge, though, just above us, where everyone goes on the weekends. I haven’t been invited to go yet, but when you’re a freshman, they all ignore you.
I’m going to be a sophomore now, and a cheerleader. That has to give me some sort of cred.
“They’re giving me a stipend, but I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it for the kids. For the boys on that team. I get the sense that they need some sort of leadership,” he says, and I can see it in his eyes that he means every word he says. My dad only wants to do good for people. Sometimes too much. Mom says his kindness gets taken advantage of sometimes, but she’s more wary. Not as trusting.
I guess they balance each other out.
“The boys have a lot of potential,” Dad continues. “They have a great quarterback.”
Yeah. JT the dick, who tried to get me to send him naked pics last year.
“And the one who’ll replace him next year is amazing. So much raw potential. He’s just—troubled,” Dad finishes, a dark look on his face.
My entire body goes tense. I know who he means.
Ash. Asher Davis. Does he play with matches because of his name?
That’s how I always figured it. Who knows if I’m right? I don’t even talk to that guy.
“He’s kind of a jerk,” I tell my dad, deciding honesty really is the best policy.
He winces. “He’s not had the best life.”
Curiosity rises within me. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t really discuss it with you.” Reaching out, he sets his big hand on top of my head and messes up my hair. I dodge away from his touch and his hand drops. “Just give him a break. Okay?”
“Sure.” I shrug. No way am I ever giving him a break.
Ever.
Three
It’s the first day of school, and I walk into my sixth period chemistry class, smiling over at Mr. Curtin, who’s sitting behind his desk, already chatting with a couple of students. All of them girls. He’s younger, in his late twenties, and I’ve heard more than once from girls who think he’s hot or they have a crush on him.
Ew.
But anyway.
I realize quick I don’t have any friends in this class. I sort of knew that already, since none of my closest friends have chem during sixth period, but I was hoping for a few acquaintances at least.
I know no one.
Making my way to the back of the classroom, I settle in at the last table in the left row, closest to the door. I pull my phone out of my backpack and check Snapchat—Dad finally gave in and let me have it—where I have a message from Kaya. She’s my best friend, and we constantly talk. Even though we just saw each other at lunch, which ended not even ten minutes ago, we still snap each other. DM each other. Sometimes text each other.
I open her snap to see a blurry photo of the back of some guy’s head. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
Ben Murray is in my history class!
Jealousy rises, but I tamp it down. I’ve had a minor crush on Ben for the last few months, and Kaya knows it.
I take a selfie and quickly tap out my response.
No one I know is in this class
She responds almost immediately.
You get to stare at Curtin for the next forty-five minutes.
Kaya included a heart eyes emoji and I send a rolling eyes emoji in response.
I’m not hot for teacher like everyone else in our grade, gross.
The girls surrounding Curtin’s desk all scatter back to their tables and he rises to his feet, walking over to the open door and pushing it shut. Immediately the sounds from outside are gone, and the class becomes eerily silent. He goes to the board and picks up a pen, writing his name across the blank white expanse, then turns to face us.
He remains quiet for a moment, his gaze sweeping the room, before he finally speaks up.
“Please tell me I don’t scare you,” Mr. Curtin says with a chuckle, and we all smile in response.
Yes, even me. I can admit his easygoing personality will go a long way with this class, a subject I’m not particularly looking forward to. But I have to take it, especially if I want to go to a good college and get away from this boring little town my parents seem to love so much.
Curtin starts talking about chemistry and I immediately start spacing out, forgetting all about my good intentions. A syllabus is passed out. He mentions that we’ll be partnering up with the person sitting next to us at our table for our lab projects, and I glance over at the empty seat beside me.
“With the exception of Miss Callahan, it seems,” he says, making everyone turn to look at me and laugh.
My cheeks burn and I slump in my seat. I still have a problem with attention being focused on me. I took dance, I competed on stage for a couple of years, and that was no big deal. I’m now on the cheer team and while we haven’t cheered at a game yet, I’m not worried about it. Yet a teacher calls me out for something minor and I want to disappear.
I need to get over it.
Suddenly the door bursts open and in strides the very last person I thought I’d see.
Ash Davis.
The smirk on his face is annoying, even though it’s not aimed at me. His hair is dark as sin and a mess, flopping across his forehead in a clear indication that he needs a haircut. His eyes are so dark they look pitch black, and I swear if Satan had a son, it would be this boy.
Mom has said from the moment Dad started coaching the football team that Ash looks like trouble, but there was always an affectionate tone in her voice. As if for some reason, my mother actually likes him.
I don’t understand why.
“Ah, Mr. Davis.” The teacher smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. More like he appears super irritated, which I think is a consistent emotion among the teachers when it comes to dealing with Ash. “So kind of you to finally join us.”
“Sorry I’m late, Curtin.” Ash casts his smirk upon all of us in the classroom, as if he’s performing on stage and we’re all watching him from the audience. “What I’d miss?”
A few girls giggle, me not included.
I just stare straight ahead, not really looking at him, not really looking at anything. I’ve never had a class with Ash before. I figured we were on different tracks and our paths wouldn’t cross, at least not during class time.
This is what I get for thinking I’d never have to deal with him again—more like I was in a major state of denial. I should’ve known. More than that, I should’ve remembered that we share a friend group, though he’s more on the fringe of it. He’s on the football team and I’m a cheerleader—though he’s on JV so we don’t cheer during his games. At lunch, or whenever our friends are sitting together, I try my best to avoid him.
And he knows it.
I don’t know why I avoid him. Maybe I didn’t like how he blunt he was when we first met. Maybe I don’t like how he struts around campus like he owns the place. Maybe I don’t like the way he looks at me, as if he can see right through me, right down to the very essence of my soul.
That sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Ash Davis makes me uncomfortable. Most of the time in a bad way.
Sometimes, though I’d never tell anyone this, he makes me uncomfortable in…a good way.
Though I refuse to have a crush on him. Every other girl in the sophomore class does already. He doesn’t need to add me to his list.
“Lucky you, Asher, you haven’t missed much. Here’s the syllabus.” Curtin hands Ash the piece of paper he passed out only a few minutes ago and then flicks his head. “Go find your seat. It’s next to Autumn Callahan, who’ll be your lab partner this semester.”
I sit up straighter, looking over at the empty seat next to me before I search the room, mentally counting…each…full…seat.
Oh my God. He’s going to be my lab partner?
For the entire semester?