When we arrive at the classroom, Taylor stops right at the door before turning around.

"There's a party at my house next Friday night. Are you coming?" he asks me.

I scan around me and blink my eyes twice in surprise when I realize he's speaking to me. "You're inviting me?"

"Nope, I'm talking to the potted plant beside me." He teases lightly. "Of course you're invited. Almost everybody is going."

"You just met me."

"It doesn't matter. I'll be seeing you around, so why not?"

I ponder over it, wondering if Aunt Abbie will ever allow it. Ever since my discharge from the hospital, her protectiveness over me has triple-folded.

"I'll think about it."

"Great." Shooting me a fetching grin, he pushes the door open for me and gestures for me to enter. After thanking him for his help, I shuffle into the classroom alone. My eyes scan across the room quickly, looking for any empty seats.

My entrance isn't as quiet as I hoped. It isn't long before all the chattering stops and all attention shifts to me. I freeze and keep my gaze on the floor, avoiding everyone's eyes. There is an urge to turn around and run back out of the classroom, but the door opens behind me and a bald man in his forties — the homeroom teacher — enters. He raises a questioning brow at me before recognition flashes in his eyes.

He realizes that I'm the new girl with amnesia.

And he's aware of the special request that Aunt Abbie has put into the school—to keep my condition a secret among my peers.

"I'm Mr. Davis." He introduces himself and gestures for me to stand at the front of the room. "I see that you've met your new classmates. Guys, this is Riley. She's new to this town. Treat her nicely, yeah?"

He turns to face me and gestures for me to make my introduction. All thirty-one pairs of eyes remain on me as I shuffle my weight between my feet uncomfortably.

For god's sake, you got this, Riley.

I introduce myself hastily, before scooting to the empty seat at the corner of the room. Time passes quickly afterwards and before I know it, homeroom is over and the morning classes begin.

My classmates take turns to swivel in their seats and bombard me with questions.

Where are you from?

Why did you transfer schools?

Why did you leave a city to come, live in a town like here?

Prior to this, Aunt Abbie has come up with a makeshift story for me to share with others, just in case they probe too much. Supposedly, I'm from New Jersey. My father is a soldier and my mother is a doctor. They are both working for the military and are now living in a faraway country. Instead of going with them, I decided I didn't want to leave the country and ended up living with Aunt Abbie in Lakeshore.

My story sounds convincing, because my classmates drop the subject quickly. They invite me to join them for lunch, but I turn them down politely. When the bell rings to signal that it is lunchtime, everyone scatters out of the classroom like bees and heads for the cafeteria.

Unlike them, I stay behind. Once I'm left alone in the classroom, I let out a loud sigh, running a hand through my hair.

To be surrounded by so many people suddenly leaves me with a feeling of claustrophobic and uneasiness. I need some time alone to breathe, to process things and sort them out in my head. I may have forgotten the memories of the people I once knew, but my knowledge of the general subjects is still intact. However, the earlier lessons have been a torture for my lacklustre brain, especially since all I have ever been doing for the past year was sleep.

Sighing once more, I shove my books into my bag and stand up to leave the classroom. Once I make it past the door, I freeze in surprise.

Kyle is leaning against the wall outside.

My initial thought is that he's waiting for someone. Curious, my head turns left and right to scan the hallway, but it is empty except for the both of us. When I turn back to glance at him, my breath hitches. By now, he has already noticed my presence. His handsome features are harsh as he looks straight at me, his cold, unfathomable eyes nailing mine.

Something hits me. I realize he isn't waiting for someone else.

He's waiting for me.

I can't seem to move from my spot. I watch as he pushes himself off the wall and approaches me slowly. The fierce, menacing glint in his eyes holds me in place, and all I can do is to stare up at his intimidating frame as he towers over me.

I can barely whisper. "K-Kyle?"

He closes in on me and forces me to retreat backwards until we are both back in the classroom. Kicking the door shut behind him, he advances towards me until I have my back press up against the wall. With a nervous look, I hug my tote bag to my chest and peer up at him through my lashes.

He places a hand beside my face and pins me against the wall, not quite touching me. "What do you think you're doing here?" he demands.

At his odd question, my face scrunches up in sheer confusion. "I just finished...class?"

His eyes narrow into slits. "Don't avoid the question," he hisses. "What are you doing at my school? Why are you a junior?"

Something clicks in my mind.

Wait a minute. Is it possible that he knew me long before I had my accident and lost my memories?

This isn't part of the plan that Aunt Abbie has told me about, but Kyle's confrontation has totally caught me off guard and I'm at a complete loss for what I should do.

Seconds pass until I finally gain the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Kyle's scowl deepens. "Are you kidding me? Is this a game you're trying to play with me? Earlier on, you were acting so friendly with Taylor—someone whom you've just met—but now that you're with me, you're pretending that you don't know me at all?"

My eyes grow wide in surprise. "I'm not. Please, let me explain–"

"Drop the act, Riley. It's revolting. If you really want to ignore my existence, fine. I'll pretend not to know you, either."

"Wait, Kyle. I'm not–" I explain myself, but he's already refusing to hear me out. With a pure look of anger and disgust aimed in my direction, he pushes himself away from me and stalks out of the classroom angrily, leaving me to stare at his back in bewilderment.

Why? What did I do wrong?

Why is he so mad at me?

❖

Dear Riley,

Today, I met a boy.

His eyes are as green as the forest, but they rage like the stormy sea.

The look in his eyes is unforgettable.

Tell me, did you know him?