I lean against my locker, letting the cool metal press up against my slightly sweaty shoulder blades. Gym is no joke at this school. It's only the second day and I barely made it out of dodgeball alive. At least the hour of running, throwing, and mostly ducking worked up my appetite for lunch. I check my phone, rereading the message from Nicole saying she would meet me at my locker after she talked to her chemistry teacher about becoming a tutor.

Just as I was putting my phone back in my pocket, I catch movement in my peripheral. The hallways are still empty, everyone still in class. I opted not to shower after gym, surprisingly being the only one to make that decision. My irrational fears of school showers may come from watching one too many teen movies, but as the new girl I'm not taking any risks with potential hazing.

I catch the movement again and turn my head, wondering who else could be out of class this early. Even though I already had an idea of who it was at the other end of the hall, his presence still has my body going rigid. This guy is everywhere and he still hasn't said a word to me.

This morning I opted for just a friendly smile, trying to gauge if he had caught me catching him peeking into my room yesterday. His expression gave nothing away. We just stood in uncomfortable silence for five minutes waiting for the bus.

I also came to discover that he has been in all of my classes so far, sitting in the same desk in the back left corner. He doesn't participate in class, talk to his desk neighbors, or even look up at the board. His nose is stuck in his notebook,his hand furiously scribbling notes. Even during gym, he avoided the colorful foam balls by staying in the back corner. After a few rounds, it seemed like people were avoiding trying to get him out.

And now here he is, at his locker just a little ways down from mine. He runs his right hand through his hair, closing his locker with his left. He glances over to me, locking me in place with those green eyes of his. I might be imagining things, but I detect the smallest trace of a smirk playing on his lips.

I have no clue how long the two of us have been standing here, gazing at each other, not one of us making a move to say something. It feels like a lifetime, my heart and head pounding. Despite having the knowledge that he has the means to have been watching me for a while, I can't help but feel insanely attracted to him. Stalker or not, he's undeniably gorgeous.

In an instant, the hallway is flooded with students, the sound of the lunch bell ringing through the pandemonium. The second it took me to glance around at my fellow classmates, I lost him in the crowd. I feel a hand grip my shoulder and I jerk my body away at once.

"Hey," Nicole frowns at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry I was just daydreaming and didn't realize you came up behind me," I blurt out the lame excuse.

"Well, what were you thinking about?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows. "Or who?" she adds, looking over my shoulder. I follow her gaze and find him again, leaning against his locker, still looking at me.

"Who is he?" I ask Nicole, not taking my eyes away from his. That hint of a smirk is still lingering, clear as day even in the midst of the lunch rush.

"Tristan Johnson, resident mystery man," Nicole replies. She then abruptly grabs my arm, whipping me around, and dragging me alongside her towards the cafeteria. Without missing a beat, she continues. "He has this whole Edward Cullen thing going for him."

"He's not vampire pale," I say, laughing a little. "And his eyes are green, not yellow or gold or whatever."

"Oh, so you've ogled him enough times to know his eye color," she teases, steering us to an empty small table. "And I didn't mean the vampire look, I mean his mannerisms."

"Explain."

"No one at this school really knows much about him. He was totally normal when we were all kids, you know, attended birthday parties and played with everyone at recess. All that innocent bullshit," Nicole beings. She takes out a sandwich from a brown paper bag and picks at the crust. "Since freshman year, though, he totally changed. I've never seen him out at any parties or bonfires. He doesn't speak, like ever. He mostly keeps to himself now, excluding his two friends over there," she points at a table in the back of the cafeteria.

Tristan and two other guys are seated there. All three with lunches in front of them. All three looking more delicious than their food. Nicole names the other two, Logan and Oliver, subtly pointing to the sun soaked blonde and brooding brunette respectively.

"Anyway, they don't socialize with anyone outside of their exclusive trio, but despite that everyone in school respects them. They're not weird by any means. In fact, they silently run this place," Nicole finishes, finally taking a bite out of her sandwich. Once again, I find it hard to pull my gaze away from Tristan, lingering long enough for him to notice me looking, trailing away from whatever conversation he was having.

"Yo, what's up?" a male voice pulls me from the staring game I am slowly growing accustomed to. I look to see a deeply tanned, handsome guy standing over Nicole's shoulder. He takes a seat next to her and reaches his hand across our small table to me. "Hi, I'm Nate. I don't think we've been introduced yet."

"Leila," I say, shaking his hand. Nate? Where have I heard that name before?

"So where has my sister been hiding you," Nate says with a playful smile. Oh! This is Nicole's brother Aunt Clara mentioned yesterday. But wait...

"Please do not hit on her," Nicole whines. "I've barely had her to myself for a full day!"

The two start bickering to each other while I sit there dumbfounded. They acknowledge my silence and register the look of disbelief on my face.

"We're step siblings, in case that's why you look so confused," Nate clarifies my unspoken question.

"That would explain the lack of similarities," I reply, smiling kindly. Looking at Nicole and Nate is like looking at day and night. Nicole is pale with a light dusting of freckles, rich blue eyes, and platinum blonde hair. Nate's smooth deep skin, sparkling black eyes, and short black curls are a stark contrast to his sister's appearance.

"Our parents say we're both a pain in their asses if that helps piece together the family connection," Nicole snorts, taking another bite of her lunch.

I giggle, pulling out my own lunch of an apple and pasta salad. "Well in any case, it's nice to meet you, Nate."

"The pleasure is all mine," he says cheekily. "So what were you two talking about before I interrupted?"

"Tristan Johnson," Nicole says dismissively. "I've already told her everything I know about her little crush, which is virtually nothing."

"He's not my crush," I counter. "He's my neighbor."

Nate and Nicole both stop chewing and stare at me. "He's your WHAT?" they both spit out at the same time.

"Yeah," I reply, slowly. "A kind of creepy one, too. I always catch him staring at me."

"It's probably because you're always staring at him," Nicole wipes the her mouth free of crumbs. I am about to argue that I'm only staring at him because he is always staring at me when she continues. "Back to him being your neighbor. You actually know where he lives?"

"His house is right next door... I'm pretty sure I can see directly into his room from my own."

"Oh my GOD!" Nicole screeches, grabbing the attention of a few students at the table next to us. "You actually know where Tristan Johnson lives. No one, and I mean NO ONE, has ever been to his house. And here you are, new girl on the block, able to see INTO HIS BEDROOM!"

"Careful, Nicole," Nate says, though with a look of curiosity still on his face. "Someone might overhear you and think that you're the one with the crush on him and not Leila."

"I don't have a crush on him," I say quietly and without much conviction.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure Taylor would love that rumor if it got started."

"Who's Taylor?" I ask, attempting to change the subject to anything other than my non-relationship with Tristan.

"My girlfriend," Nicole lights up. "She's a year older than us and in cosmetology school. She actually works part-time at the salon off of Main. You should come with me when I go in to get my roots touched up!"

I agree with a nod of my head and a snappy bite into my apple. A day out meeting new people and doing normal things is something I need to start building my life here.

After some time of causal conversation about classes and things to do on the weekends, the lunch bell rings again, signaling the end of the period. I wave goodbye to Nate and start walking towards AP Calc with Nicole. The halls are overpacked, every student in the building filing into the narrow space from the cafeteria. The humidity increases tenfold from the amount of bodies trying to get to their last class on time. Nicole grabs my hand and pushes her way through, me not too far behind.

I bump into someone, losing my grip on Nicole and colliding shoulders with someone walking in the opposite direction. They were solid enough to twist my body around enough for me to get a look at them.

Tristan Johnson looks over his shoulder at me, still leisurely strolling down the hall, that small smirk still visible.