Chace sits with the soccer team at dinner that first night, and even though we’re on opposite ends of the table, I can feel his eyes intermittently flickering toward mine. I pretend to be engrossed in the chatter all around me; I smile and play along with the banter of my two closest guy friends, Brandon and Derek. But I’m just filling a spotlight.
You know how you can be part of one conversation while your ears strain to pick up another? Somehow I know Chace and his teammates are talking about me, and I crane my neck as subtly as possible, hoping to catch a snippet of their dialogue. Are they telling Chace how lucky he is to have grabbed my attention, how they’ve all tried and failed?
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see that hideously un-cute pair of overalls. Nicole is approaching our table, looking like a deer in headlights as she scans the benches for an empty space. A flare of annoyance flashes through me. Doesn’t she have friends and a table of her own? Is she honestly expecting us to become besties now, just because we’re stuck in the same dorm?
But before she can make her way to me, Chace turns in his seat and calls out her name. I watch, transfixed, the same way other people are fascinated by the sight of car wrecks. Why is the most eligible guy at this school paying even a smidgen of attention to my socially and fashionably challenged roommate?
Chace starts gesturing to his teammates, making a violin motion with his hands that’s rather adorable—and it hits me that he wasn’t just being nice in the theater. He’s actually impressed with her. Before he can invite her to sit with him, I stand up.
“Nicole!” I call out, fixing a wide smile on my face. “There you are, I was looking for you.” I pat the sliver of bench space next to me, ignoring Kara’s annoyed glare.
Nicole’s face lights up. She gives Chace and his teammates a little wave before hurrying toward me. Chace meets my eyes, and this time I let my gaze linger. His smile is warm and admiring, as though I’ve just confirmed his most flattering suspicions about me. Taking Nerdy Violin Girl under my wing is just what he needed to see to prove that I’m not simply the stock pretty and popular type—that I’m actually a good person.
And right now, as Nicole plops into her seat beside me, I sort of wish it were true.
The next morning is the first official day of junior year, and it begins with a screech. I throw my pillow over my head, inwardly cussing out my roommate, who can’t even manage to wait until after I’m awake to start playing her schmaltzy music.
“Sorry!” she says at the sound of my groans. “I thought I could be your slightly-more-pleasant alarm clock today.”
Seriously?
“My alarm does the trick just fine,” I tell her, not bothering to hide the bitchiness in my voice. She flinches, and I’d maybe feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that my sharp tone clearly did the trick. She puts the instrument away.
There’s no hope of falling back to sleep when I’m twitchy with irritation, so I heave myself up to a sitting position and grab my phone. I find half a dozen texts from Stephanie, Kara, and Brandon—and an email from Headmaster Higgins that sends my stomach plummeting.
Hi, Lana! I hope your summer was fantastic. I’d like to set up an appointment as soon as possible to discuss some areas of concern for you this year. Can you come by my office after your last class today?
Oh, joy. Could an email scream doom and gloom any louder? Plus, who has “areas of concern” before the school year has even begun? I guess that’s one domain where we can call me an overachiever.
“Are you okay?” Nicole asks, watching me.
“I’m just not a morning person,” I grumble.
She takes the hint. We get dressed in our matching uniforms and pack our matching schoolbags, all without making conversation. Soon Stephanie is at the door, asking if I’ll trade my Chanel sunglasses for her Burberry headband (accessories are the only personal touches allowed with our uniforms, so we have to take advantage), and as we swap the goods and head out the door, leaving Nicole to follow, I feel myself starting to relax. I’m about to be in my element. Not in the classroom, but on the social stage. I may not be a virtuoso musician, a killer athlete, or a 4.0 student, but somehow I’m the girl everyone wants to be with—or just be. I guess that’s one thing I learned from my mother: how to win the popular vote.
After a jam-packed first day of rushing between new classes and catching up with all the friends I didn’t have time for yesterday, I find myself at the headmaster’s door, debating whether or not to blow off the appointment and pretend I never received her email. But then I see him in the waiting room.
“Hey.”
Chace Porter gives me that sexy, dimpled grin of his as I walk in. “Finally a familiar face.”
I settle into the seat next to him with a smile.
“I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of those for you just yet?”
He chuckles. “Not exactly. I’m still getting used to everything. I owe you one, though. If you hadn’t shown me that shortcut yesterday, I might have missed chemistry altogether.”