Rafe Ferreira was thrown out of London faster than shit off a shovel.

True to his threat the esteemed billionaire Carlos Ferreira had kicked his son out to a far away, tiny town called Berkshire. Rafe had many warnings and threats but he never thought his father would actually go through with it. Honestly it was hardly a fight. Just a scuffle with a couple of French guys in the club. The press really had a field day with that one. Something about the children of the rich being empty and senseless. What a load of rubbish.

Truly feeling like shit and sighing in defeat, Rafe came out of the register's office, holding his schedule, new books, and a map of the school. To say that he was unhappy was the understatement of the year.

He looked down at his phone, searching for the name Maria. His phone had no new notifications, but he still got phantom vibrations in his pocket. When would she get in touch? She left his texts unanswered. Those two blue ticks and a one-sided conversation on WhatsApp sent his blood boiling.

He sent another text to his brother, asking him to campaign on his behalf and end his banishment since his father always listened to Emile. Surely his father didn't expect him to spend an entire academic year here? Rafe was a city boy through and through. The only occasions he spent time a village was in their family's winery in Tuscany or expensive resorts in Europe.

He forced himself to make sense of the timetable and look for his next class. The campus was enormous. The school grounds were endless fields and various buildings. There was too much greenery and vast empty spaces. Compared to crammed old buildings of London, this school looked like a cold palace.

He walked brusquely to his new class. The laughter and chatter of girls and boys irritated him. He couldn't shake off the urge to punch someone again. The students looked as bland as the school uniform. Not to mention there were no good-looking girls. As his eyes roamed his surroundings with despair, his foot stumbled onto something small and soft. There was a yelp, and he realised too late that he had smashed someone's foot and that particular someone was now glaring daggers at him.

"Ouch! Watch where you're going!" came a sharp reproach coupled with a shove. It was from a girl, slightly shorter than him. She was mirroring his grimace. She was strong for her small frame, as she made him take a couple of steps back. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at her foot. He realised as he stepped on her shoe, it came off. The spotless white sock now had his footprint.

It happened so quickly Rafe wasn't sure how to react. "Shouldn't have been in my way," he muttered. He looked at her legs and feet. "You have tiny feet," he blurted out, as if it was their fault for being such an easy target.

"Sharp observation. Sasquatch." She brushed away the mark with her hand and put her shoe back on. Never in his life had he ever been called or likened to a Sasquatch. This girl needed a thicker pair of glasses (if that was even possible) because she was obviously blind.

"You know what they say about big feet," he drawled, unable to resist an innuendo. It was in his nature.

"Small brains?" she fired back.

Ouch.

He ignored the insult. Instead, he shoved his timetable into her face.

"Where's this classroom?" he asked, pointing at 'English Lit, B3, Mrs. McGrath.'

She glared at him through her glasses before looking back at the paper. "Walk that way," she said coolly, pointing a slim finger to the end of the corridor. "Take a left and keep going until you see the orange door."

He didn't bother with a 'thank you' given how bitchy she looked. He could still feel her eyes burn into the back of his skull as he strode away. He wasn't in the mood for niceties.

The classroom filled up slowly and by the time the bell rang, the teacher managed to shout at everyone to take their seats. The excitement of seeing each other after a long summer was hard to extinguish and Miss McGrath struggled to get the attention of the class. Norah Fujioka sat patiently in the corner of the class, arranging her desk with new stationary, a new notepad and books. The glossy new pages felt smooth underneath her fingertips. She couldn't fully relax. Her foot felt uncomfortable. She rubbed it over with her other foot, remembering just how arrogant that new boy had been in the hall.

The teacher took the register, calling out each name in alphabetical order. Once she reached F, she read, "Raffael Ferreira."

The quiet classroom started shuffling in excitement, waiting to hear a 'present', but none came. There was excited whispering flittering through the classroom.

"Ferreira? As in the luxury Italian car owners?"

"The rich Italian guy? Who has, like, his own jet?"

"Oh my god I saw him this morning he was so cute."

Miss McGrath scribbled something in the pad before moving on. At that point, the door opened and the same boy who stamped her foot walked in, looking more peeved than ever.

"Is this English Lit?" he asked, showing a piece of paper. His voice was smooth and strong.

"That's right," Miss McGrath said. "You must be Raffael-"

"Just Rafe is fine."

"Rafe. You're late. Did you get lost?"

Rafe caught Norah's eye amongst the sea of gawking students and his narrowed. "Yes."

Norah smirked proudly and looked straight ahead.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that, someone should have shown you around the school. It's very large and easy to get lost in. Well, never mind that, we're just getting the register down. Please take a seat, right over there, behind Norah."

Rafe walked in lethargically, dragging his feet with every step. Everyone was staring, and a couple of girls smiled and whispered a coy greeting as he passed. He took his seat next to Luke- a boy with short blonde hair and freckles. They introduced themselves and had a short talk whilst the teacher was finishing the register.

The lesson went by fairly quickly. It was introductory, going over the syllabus and new literature, which was met with groans of frustration. The bell rang and the shuffling of books and papers was frantic.

Suddenly Norah felt someone kick her chair as she packed her bag. She turned back sharply.

"You sent me to a broom closet," he hissed. "What's your problem?"

She shrugged. "I thought that's where you and your terrible manners belonged."

"What?"

"You smashed my foot and didn't even apologise. I have to walk around with a dirty sock now."

He blinked at her with disbelief. "It's not like I did it on purpose," he hissed.

"Whatever," she said with sass as she grabbed her bag, flipped her long ponytail in his direction and left the classroom before he could say anything else