Blaire picks a french fry from her tray and throws it into her mouth, chewing on it. We've located a table at the back of the cafeteria, which is the quietest and most comfortable spot where you will find all the dorks at.

It's our safest zone. Our little cocoon to keep us safe from the endless high school drama that usually occurs on the other side of the cafeteria. Right now, some soccer players are causing a little ruckus about someone making a foul move during one of their practice games.

Their voices fade into the background. I resume eating my lunch—a Cajun chicken wrap and a Coke. As I chew slowly, a feeling of someone watching me forces me to glance up.

Blaire studies me with an unfathomable look, her eyes flitting between me and somewhere else behind me. When she can't seem to hold back her burning curiosity any longer, she eventually bursts out.

"Okay, what's the deal between you and Carl?"

A frown slips between the crevices of my forehead, wondering who she's referring to. "Carl?"

"Carl, Kai, Kylo, whatever."

I frown harder. While opening my can of Coke, I turn to see who's behind me and that's when I finally notice the person she's referring to.

"You mean Kyle?"

"Yes, that guy." She snaps her fingers impatiently. "The one with the nice, tight butt. God, I can never remember his name."

I immediately choke on my drink, wiping my mouth with a napkin and cursing at the image she has put inside my head. "N-nothing," I sputter. "There's nothing going on between us."

Her frown deepens. "That doesn't sound right to me." She grabs another fry and shoves it into her mouth. "Why do you keep staring at him in that way?"

"What way?"

"Oh well, you know, girls around here usually give him the I-want-to-lick-chocolate-off-your-abs stare, but you." She jabs a finger at me with a pointed look. "You look as if you've just ran a car over him and now you're feeling all horrible about it. Why?"

I groan and bury my face in my hands. "Did you really have to put such a disturbing image into my head with that first line? Besides, did I really stare at him like that?"

"Absolutely," she confirms without the slightest doubt. "Now spill the beans. What's really going on? I've been hanging around you for a while now, and if you think I didn't notice the looks you guys have been giving each other, I must be blind."

Hesitating, I try to work up an excuse. "We just so happen to be staring in each other's direction, but not on the person."

"I don't believe you. Not at all. Look–" Blaire nudges my arm with her elbow and inclines her head in a direction behind me. "He's staring at you again."

I follow her line of sight and she's right. When Kyle sees me turning around, he wrenches his gaze away so quickly and begins speaking to a friend sitting next to him—a lanky boy with tousled brown hair whom I've seen hanging around his side often. His good friend in school.

Taylor from the next table catches my gaze. He shoots me with another one of his trademark smiles and waves.

Blaire notices this too and she snorts. "Don't get fooled by Taylor's smile," she warns. "He's not someone you should get close to. In fact, stay away from him. Red alarms blaring and all."

I'm confused by her warning. "Why?"

"Because," she starts, a stormy note in her voice, "behind that innocent smile of his, he's a pervert. Everybody knows he has this notorious reputation of sleeping with girls in the school and ditching them afterwards. And he has a certain taste. He usually goes for those shy, innocent and sweet girls, knowing that they're less likely to fight him off. Girls like you."

Her words ricochet in my mind. I turn back to observe Taylor, who is now busy chatting with his friends as they laugh at whatever joke he's telling. The ocean-blue eyes of his reflected the kindness that I remember. And how he offered me his help earlier this morning by bringing my books to class. Afterwards, he asked me out for lunch again—which turns out to be tomorrow after classes end.

And with little thinking, I agreed.

Now, with Blaire's little warning resounding in my mind, I'm feeling like I've made a mistake. But a promise is a promise and canceling our plan for no reason when he has done nothing wrong to me will make me feel like I'm the petty person in this.

When Blaire sees me still deep in my thoughts, she lets out a sigh. "Look," she says. "Whatever you do, just be careful, alright? I don't want to see you become his next victim, Riley."

I shoot her a reassuring smile. "I know. Thanks for keeping a lookout for me."

Rumors are rumors. I should only believe what I see with my own eyes. If he's truly as bad as what Blaire has mentioned, I'll walk away. No second thoughts on that.

"If you understand, that's fine." She leans back into her chair and watches a rather good-looking guy walk past our table, her eyes train on his rear. "So, back to the topic—what's with you and Kyle?"

It seems she will not let me get away easily. "It's...complicated."

"Complicated? How so? Do you guys have a history together or something?"

She hits the right spot, but I'm not ready to reveal everything. Questions will lead to more questions and leave us hanging with no answers. Especially when my memories are still missing in my head.

And I've just found a friend. Her company during the past week makes me feel normal, like I'm not a disabled person. But what if she leaves after finding out that I'm not normal?

I come up with another excuse. "He's my locker neighbor and there was a mishap the other day," I explain slowly. Technically, I'm not lying to her because this really happened. "Someone mistook my locker for his and dropped a love note. When I tried to slip it back into his locker, he caught my sneaky act and now, he probably thinks that I'm some weirdo."

She doesn't look convinced. "You're telling me that this is the reason behind his odd glances? For as long as I've known him, his attention span in girls doesn't last longer than five minutes. You should have seen how he would always disregard the bunch of cats chasing after him. Even Carly can't snag him after six months of trying."

Surprise crosses my face. "Do you know him personally?"

This time, she seems to be in a spot. "Not personally..." she mumbles quietly, her eyes lowering to her hands wringing in her lap. "I know him through our mutual friend. Now this is a story that's definitely worthy of being called 'complicated'."

This piques my curiosity. "What about it?"

Blaire bites her bottom lip nervously. She scans the surrounding area cautiously to make sure that nobody's listening, before leaning towards me with a lowered voice. Her eyes are wide and fearful. "Before I tell you, do you promise to not speak a word of this to anyone? Not even to your aunt or your six-year-old cousin that you're living with?"

When I nod, she continues. "You see the guy sitting next to Kai?"

I chuckle lightly. "It's Kyle."

"Oh yeah, whatever. Anyway, the focus is the guy sitting right beside him—Ian Collins," she says, before a sigh escapes her. "I dated him a while ago. In secret. I didn't want anybody in school to find out, because I'm afraid that his friends might outcast him for liking me. You know what my reputation is like."

From her looks and the story of her mother, people often called her the Gothic Witch or the Slut.

But to me, she's just Blaire.

"How did you guys get together?"

She blinks a few times, recalling her past. "It...took some time. We first met—like literally speaking words to each other—at a mart. I was getting some ice cream, but I left my wallet back at home." She rolls her eyes at the awful memory. "It was the most embarrassing situation ever, especially when the cashier was shouting and threatening to call the cops because I looked like a thief in my favorite black jacket with a hoodie over my head. Anyway, Ian just so entered the mart at the right time and when he saw what happened, he offered to pay for the ice cream."

"I returned the money to him the next day in school. At first, he didn't accept it, but I was stubborn. Ever since then, we started speaking more frequently and before I knew it, we were dating."

Her smile turns wistful and bitter. She remembers all the details as clear as day. "But it only lasted three months before we broke up. And it's because of our parents. My mother forced me to have dinner at her newest boyfriend's house and guess who the man is? She got herself a divorced doctor working in this town's hospital, who's also my boyfriend's father. Can you freaking believe it?"

"Even Ian was there," she says, her nostrils flaring in agitation, "and we just stood there and stared at each other, knowing that our relationship could never work out now. Neither of our parents knew about us dating and even to this day, they still don't."

I watch her face fall as tears prick her eyes.

Earlier, she mentioned that their breakup had happened some time ago, but clearly, anyone can tell that this matter still upset her. She hasn't gotten over her feelings for Ian yet and seeing him in school everyday doesn't help her forget him or ease the pain.

Another fallen relationship, another pair of broken hearts. Just like Kyle and me.

Why must life be so complicated when everyone is just trying to live happily?

I reach for her Blaire's hand and give her a supportive squeeze. "Do you regret breaking up?"

She shrugs. "Does it matter? We're never getting back together. I remember my mom mentioning something the other day about their engagement plans. But knowing her, she says the same thing in every relationship with her exes, so I'm not surprised if it doesn't happen this time either."

"Well, like you said, nothing's certain yet. Things might change in the future and turn into your favor."

She takes a swig of her Coke and shakes her head at me. Her usually bright and snappy attitude now fades away into something else. A despondent spirit. It makes me realize that all along she has been putting on a strong facade so that no one can pick on her if they find out she's hurting.

"True, but I would rather not have false hopes about it. I've been through it several times before," she sighs. "Too many high hopes, too many disappointments. In the end, I'm the one feeling sorry for myself."

"What about you, Riley?" she asks quietly. "What would you've done if you were in my shoes?"