It's after school and I'm on the bus, still wondering why Nicole and Nate made it such a big deal that I live next door to Tristan. Is he really such a big question mark that being in close proximity to him instantly make me a center for information? Even if it did, I wouldn't have much to say other than he is the most handsome guy I have ever laid my eyes on, he is a stalker in training, and he may be a mute. The majority of those are just assumptions, meaning I know next to nothing.

The school bus rolls to a stop at the end of my street. I get out of my seat and step off the vehicle onto the asphalt. Just like yesterday, Tristan is not too far behind. And just as before, we walk in silence.

We're about halfway to the front of my house when I decide to be bold. "So, you're in all of my classes except for AP Calc, huh?"

I don't expect him to answer. I just want Tristan to know that I have taken notice that he has every opportunity to talk, stalk, or skin me alive. Maybe if he knows that I'm watching, he'll back off the whole staring agenda. Or at the very least decrease it to a less creepy level.

Somehow the silence between us deepens. I roll my eyes; so he's going to keep up with the whole mysterious man routine. How much effort does it take to not talk to people?

I approach the path that leads to the front porch, cutting the time short that I was using to come up with a snarky comment that would force him to respond. I sigh, but remember that I always have tomorrow to try and get a reaction out of him. My own personal experiment.

Why do I care so much to be the one who breaks him? I'm just the new girl who is supposed to be blending in, not causing a scene, even if there are is no one to witness it. Good grief, Leila, you're supposed to be acting like a normal teenager. Not some deranged freak with a complex to break your neighbor.

But isn't it a right for every teenager to have some sort of feud or challenge with someone? Someone who pushes their buttons and makes them feel the most intense emotions, good and bad? I want that so I can say that I had one normal teen year. Tristan Johnson seems like a good enough challenger if I can just get him to say something to me.

I fumble with my keys, just as I did yesterday, searching for the right one to open the front door. Just as I find it, a deep voice rumbles through the air, causing me to drop the whole ring to the porch.

"I took it last year."

I quickly whip my entire body around, ignoring my splayed keys on the ground. Tristan is standing at the start of the walkway, hands in his pockets, the sleeves of his deep blue t-shirt tight around his biceps.

"Wh-what?" I ask, stuttering like an absolute idiot. Looks like I won't be much of a challenger for him.

"I took AP Calc last year," he responds, his velvety voice floating towards me like music. With that small smirk appearing on his face, he turns away from me and walks towards his house. Disappearing into the garage without another word, he leaves me speechless on the porch, keys still on the ground.