Obsession (Dangerous Love #1)

CHAPTER 2

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THE EVIL HIDING AMONG

THE SMILES

KATHERINE

TWO MONTHS LATER

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My head rocked absently on the headrest. I did my best to keep it still and get rid of the drowsiness, but the sun shining through the window and warming my skin turned me into plasticine.

I winced and opened the window, grateful for the cold air hitting my face as it chased away my drowsiness. I ran my hand through my hair and tried not to pay attention to the view around me. The new view, the new formula for ‘home’.

“Are you okay, honey?” I felt my father’s hand on mine and turned to look at him.

“Yeah, just a little jet lagged,” I lied.

That was not why I was on the verge of crying every five seconds.

“We’re almost there. You’ll love the new house, Kath. It’s much bigger than our apartment, and you’ve got your own balcony, and…”

“Dad,” I interrupted his enthusiasm, “you know I hate this move and would do anything to get back home, so please stop trying to cheer me up by telling me the benefits of a house in Seattle.”

He looked at me and nodded as his lips flattened into a straight line.

“Okay,” he sighed and turned his attention back to the road. I crossed my arms and did the same, hoping to get there faster and, at the same time wishing we could get back to my real home.

New York was my home; it had been all my life. Seattle felt like a nightmare that I wanted to wake up from, even though we had only landed an hour before.

“You’ll get used to it; I promise. Don’t think of it as moving to another city, think of it as coming home.”

I snorted in mild amusement and turned my head towards the window. Dad’s efforts to cheer me up were annoying, but also funny.

This place could be called home, but for him. Not for me. I hadn’t even been born here. Of course, it was where my parents had met and married, but they had decided to move to New York as soon as they found out I was coming. That was the situation you got into when the people who gave you life were two teenagers, broke and head over heels in love.

Their story could have had a happy ending. Young or not, my parents had loved each other more than any other couple I’d ever met. They shared everything, and despite our material shortcomings, we were a happy family. Until a year ago, when one member of that family decided to leave.

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together, cursing inwardly because I didn’t want to cry again. My mother’s departure had been my undoing, a simple decision taken by the woman I’d idolized forever, my role model, and I’d always dreaded the moment I would have had to move out and leave her.

She’d left me first.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my arm. The punctures were still slightly visible on my skin, too many and too crowded to count.

What else could have happened to a child who had lost her role model? If said child had been let down by her idol? Abandoned by my own mother in favor of money and a better life? Nothing good.

And this “nothing good” was all I needed. A darkness that soothed me in her absence and helped me survive. Not knowing what was happening to you was the best way to get ahead. That was until my father decided to pluck me out of my darkness to bring me back into the light. That light was now bright and shiny Seattle, a city that would be nothing but my grave.

“We’re here,” my father announced before stopping the car.

I was snapped out of my thoughts and returned to reality, postponing a possible nervous breakdown for later, in my new room.

When I turned around to look at the house we had parked in front of, my first instinct was to frown and then grimace.

“This is our house?” I asked, even though he had already gotten out of the car. I followed him out, limping slightly because my feet were numb.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?”

My dad’s smile made everything worse, but I kept my comment to myself and just nodded. I’d lived in a sixteenth-floor apartment my whole life, and now I was being moved – against my will no less - to a picture-perfect, story-book house.

White. Horribly white, with some sort of plant nestled against the outside wall from the floor to a small balcony. The plant looked like ivy, and what looked like a wooden ladder was stuck to the wall under it, leading directly onto the same balcony – perfect for sneaking out without my dad noticing. Hmm, maybe it wasn’t such a bad house after all. From the sixteenth floor, sneaking out of the house via the balcony, wasn’t exactly achievable.

The size of the house wasn’t overwhelming, but it was perfect for a small family. The house next door was much bigger, and I noticed a boy sitting by the second-floor window, watching me with curious eyes. Normally I would have smiled at him, but the new and repulsive Katherine – as my dad liked to call me lately – only returned to the car to get her bags.

Dad took them out of the trunk because there weren’t too many, as most of our things had been moved prior to our arrival.

I stayed still and sighed, bags at my feet, while he climbed back into the car. I kept my cool and started grabbing the bags when I heard him cursing behind me. I almost burst out laughing when I saw the front of the car sticking out of the garage.

“I can’t believe it; this garage is too small!”

He had his hands on his hips, and I could only be amused by his incredulity. I realized this wasn’t going to convince him to return to New York, but if my life here was going to be hell, why should his be perfect?

“Well parked, dad,” I scoffed, and he frowned at me, visually measuring the size of his old Opel.

“I think I need to take out the cabinet in the back.”

“Yeah, whatever, give me the keys,” I held my hand out to him, ignoring his plans for the garage as I took another look around while he searched his pockets for the keys.

It was hell disguised as heaven. Everything was just so… alive. The sun seemed to shine brighter, too much green and joy. Our house had a freshly mowed lawn and a hedge fence only a few feet tall which made me feel uncomfortable and exposed. I didn’t belong here. I needed a dark corner to hide in and be undisturbed.

My father handed me the keys and followed me, saving the garage thing for later. The small dark wooden porch had three steps in front of the freshly painted white door with a diamond-shaped window in the middle. I felt like I was in an unsuccessful sitcom on Netflix.

I turned the key and entered the small hallway, picked up the suitcase from the floor and walked into the brightly lit living room with white walls and the same furniture we had in New York. The couch and the armchair upholstered in brown leather, the coffee table and the medium-sized flat-screen TV that used to be mounted on the wall but was now on a console table.

“What do you think?” my father asked, but I didn’t budge.

“You already know what I think.”

He stood in front of me and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll be better here, honey, trust me.”

“No, dad, you’ll be better here.”

Trying to avoid another fight, as we’d had had our fair share since he’d made the decision to move, I turned to my bags, grabbed them, and headed up the stairs. With every argument with my dad about this move, I hated him more and more and I didn’t want to go forward with it. I knew he wanted the best for me, but his definition of “the best” was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I heard him sigh behind me, but I kept walking up the freshly painted wooden staircase, noticing the kitchen with its white tiles and brown cupboards as I passed.

The corridor was dark and narrow. Two of the doors led to our bedrooms and the other was the bathroom – a bathroom we had to share. Considering we had moved into a house, I had hoped to have my own, but since my father hadn’t gotten much money for the old apartment, we couldn’t afford such luxuries, and his childhood home had been sold some time ago.

I calculated from the position of the balcony which room would be mine, and when I was sure, I stopped in front of the left door. I gulped, opened it, and stepped over the threshold. It was bigger than I had expected. The walls were painted blue purple, not exactly my favorite color at the moment, but since my dad was wielding the paintbrush, I couldn’t have black walls. I would do it myself once I got used to… everything. My bed was pushed to the left side and covered with new white sheets. In front of it was an unfamiliar mid-sized brown closet with two mirrored doors. In the corner of the room, next to the balcony door, there was a desk with my old computer on it and a large beige chair in the other corner. Some of the things were new, replacing the ones in my old room.

I took a deep breath, examined every inch of the room, and realized to my surprise that it bore no resemblance to my old bedroom. It was completely different, apart from the two items that had been brought from the apartment – my bed and the computer, which I hadn’t turned on for many months. My dad was really trying to give me a fresh start.

The balcony was tiny, and I barely had enough room to turn around, but it was nice to breathe in the fresh air. This was new to me because fresh air was hard to come by where I came from, and my balcony had a breathtaking view of a tire factory. After years of breathing in burned rubber, it smelled like paradise here.

I left the glass door open, and the breeze blew past the white curtains I’d knotted to the sides, so the panoramic view of this small part of Seattle redefined my definition of “home”.

I threw myself onto the old bed and looked up at the ceiling, noticing how it was becoming more and more distorted. I got up and rummaged through my bag to take out my pills, then went in search of the bathroom.

I chose between the two doors on the right side of the hallway and was lucky to get into the bathroom on the first try. At least it was bigger than the one at home. The room was tiled in white and smelled of fresh detergent, which indicated that it had been thoroughly cleaned. What really excited me was the fact that we not only had a shower, but also a bathtub – for those days when I wanted to lie depressed in the sudsy water and think about the shitstorm that was my life.

I held onto the sides of the white sink, pushed my shoulders forward and lifted my head to look at my pale and tired reflection. Bloodshot eyes and the obvious signs of a massive addiction stared back at me. My hair, which was an unnatural shade of blonde – dyed in the hope of forgetting whom I looked like – hung heavily over my shoulders and reached my lower back. My brown irises had turned a milky color, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find any remnants of the old Katherine. At that moment, a completely different personality and image seemed to have taken control of my soul.

Dyeing my hair hadn’t been a wise decision, but I had made some other changes to my appearance that I was still proud of, namely my two tattoos. Two black wings stretched across my back with the words “Wild Angel” written between them. Nicky had talked me into it when I was drunk off my ass, but I didn’t regret it, at least not the wings. She was also the one who had the brilliant idea to write “Wild Angel” on my skin because she thought it suited me. What would have suited me in reality was “depressive drug addict”. Yes, the perfect description.

The other tattoo was a sprig of thorns wrapped around my left ankle like a bracelet, with a much sadder meaning. As lame as they were, I liked my tattoos and wanted more. If I knew what exactly, I’d get another one, but I wanted to be sober for it. They gave me a sense of power, of protection… of camouflage. Usually, people didn’t try to fathom the personality of tattooed people, it was like we were handing it to them on a silver platter. We painted our feelings on our skin to be seen, and that often caused them to keep their distance. However, I didn’t have enough tattoos to inspire that yet.

I turned on the water and splashed my face, then swallowed a clonidine pill. Having had a UROD and two months in a rehab facility, I thought things would get better, but I was wrong, and I knew my desperate desire for drugs made it so. I didn’t want them for pleasure, I wanted them as an anesthetic.

For me, drugs were a self-induced hypnosis into which I let myself fall and forget everything, and given the turn my life had taken, forgetting was a welcome blessing.

I knew that feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t help, but how was I supposed to resist in this city where I knew no one and where the darkness that had kept me safe had disappeared? I asked myself as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, which seemed to be the only one who empathized with my misery.

***

For the rest of the day, my father and I kept our distance. I spent my time unpacking a few things and scattering my favorite things around the room.

The posters of my favorite dancers had been destroyed many months ago, along with the dream I had worked for all my life.

I refused to eat dinner, but it was brought to my door against my will because one of the side effects of my addiction was rapid weight loss. It wasn’t exactly a healthy way to lose weight, and my blood work showed just that, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I always focused my choices on perfection. My mom pushed me to do that. She was perfect, and I wanted to be like her. I grew up emulating her, analyzing her every move while creating my own template to become a perfect copy of her.

Big mistake.

Many parents have divorced, and their children expected it, and as hard as it was, they eventually managed to move on. However, when the parent who used to be your support suddenly leaves you, you feel like the earth shatters beneath your feet and all your hopes for the future are dashed. I would have expected my father to leave me. His betrayal would have hurt, but it wouldn’t have wiped me out. The connection I had with my mother was the stuff dreams were made of, and it split me in half. I was prepared for every failure and betrayal because she was there, and I never thought she would be the one to destroy me.

She didn’t just leave my father. I was much more affected by it than he was.

***

I was frightened, silent as a corpse, my breath stuck in my lungs while my heart pounded in my chest. The whole courtroom was silent, and I could only see my mother’s face.

She had tears in her eyes, her face was a mirror image of my own, only much more beautiful.

Her black hair was perfectly styled into a bob.

My role model.

My father’s lost eyes, struggling to hold back the tears because he did not understand what had brought him there. What had made the woman he loved leave him like that?

The answer was simple: money.

“All things considered, I declare Amanda and Christopher’s divorce final with the consent of both parties.” The judge announced with boredom on his lips and slammed the mallet down, unaware that at that moment he had signed my death sentence.

“No!” I shouted unconsciously and jumped up from my seat, but the room suddenly went dark, and I looked around and realized that I was actually lying in my bed.

I rubbed my face and propped my head in my palms. This nightmare wouldn’t leave me, wouldn’t let me forget how my mother had left me. I kept waking up from it and letting out the scream that hadn’t been able to escape back then. Sometimes I hated the way all my feelings came out to play in my dreams.

If there was one thing that I was sure of, it was that my mother still loved me and that she had assumed I would go with her. That had been the plan; that her new husband would adopt me and offer me everything, much more than my father’s salary as a fireman – but she had been wrong. I may have loved my mother and followed her in everything, but she was dead to me the moment she decided to leave her husband, who loved her so much, for a richer man.

I sighed, ran my fingers through my hair, and searched under the covers for my phone. My headphones were still plugged in, and I could hear the hum of a song as I had probably ripped them out of my ears in my sleep. I stopped the music and squinted at the display. It was only 04:13am, and I still had two hours until I had to get ready for school.

The week had passed in slow motion. I stayed in my room and fought the addiction that wouldn’t go away. The first day of senior year in a new city, in a place where I had no friends.

I tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail. The images of the trial were still fresh in my mind, and I could not block them out. I was still trying to find a reason for my mother’s departure, a more important one, even one that I was to blame for.

Before she left, I was a different person. A completely different Katherine who was now dead.

Everything in my life used to be organized, from my studies to the passion I had fully committed myself to. I had wasted fourteen years of my life perfecting my art to the point of torture, dancing day and night, entering competitions, giving up my social life and dreaming of Julliard.

In just a few months I had ruined it all.

With my criminal record, I would never be accepted to such a prestigious college, even if I might have had a chance in the past. Contemporary dance made me feel free, my body escaped into another world where time and space disappeared. My mother took me to my first class when I was four. She was also the one who put an end to it.

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at my equipment because the memories became poisoned daggers. Not only had she let me down, but she had ruined everything I had worked for since childhood. She was the reason I fought so hard, even when it became too much, even when I wanted to give up. I remembered how much she trusted me and how scared I was of letting her down. My mother was an anchor, my whole existence was supported by her.

Not for a second did I think she would do what she did.

Her loss wasn’t the only source of my pain, the loss of my dream was one of them too. I had tried so hard to pull myself together, to not let her betrayal have any power over me, to stand on my own two feet and move on. My last attempt at dancing ended with me screaming at the top of my lungs and smashing every mirror in the studio. My emotional crisis caused a sprained ankle that kept me from dancing for two months.

By the end of that time, I had already discovered drugs and their cursed euphoria.

I became hard and aggressive, uncontrollable, and wild, but behind these explosive changes lay a broken soul. I had distanced myself from my friends and dance partners and joined a completely different group; a group that helped me forget everything, a group that injected euphoria and happiness into my veins – in the truest sense of the word. And finally, one that my father wanted to tear me away from before I got completely out of control. He had reached his limit when he had to take me out of the cell after I trashed that fast-food joint. Seeing me overdose, more dead than alive, ruined him.

I had ruined my dream, my body, my life. Now it was too late to fix anything, too late to erase what the pain had done to me. Some things just stayed forever – those fatal decisions that couldn’t be changed.

Sleep overcame me again, right when I had to get up for school. The thick curtains prevented me from seeing the sunrise, but I could hear my dad rummaging through the kitchen, so it was time to get up and face the music.

After showering, I changed into a black tank top and blue jean shorts, along with my beloved two-year-old sneakers. When I encountered the sun, I realized it would be very present today, so I ditched the leather jacket I had planned to wear. I’d straightened my dirty blonde hair, which really changed my appearance, even if it did not make me any prettier. All my imperfections were accentuated by this color. My puffy eyes made me look like a teenager who had been crying all night over a breakup, so I applied extra black eyeliner in hopes of covering up the ghostly image.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The reflection stared back at me, seemingly ready for what was to follow, strong and aggressive. Camouflage, because I certainly didn’t feel that way inside. If there were any demons in pain anywhere, they looked like me. I took a deep breath and decided to listen to my exterior as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. Before I walked out the door, I told myself once more to be brave.

You can do it. Finish this year.

My father was waiting in the kitchen, breakfast was ready.

“Good morning,” he said with the same inexplicable joy.

After all, my father had fallen just as far as I did in the first few months. He used to be an unemployed alcoholic who was carried home by a friend he had just met in the bar until something brought him back to life and put that constant smile on his face. I would have loved to know what medication he was on, because it seemed to work better than my drugs.

“Good morning,” I greeted, sat down, and reminded myself that I had planned to be strong.

“Ready for school?” he smiled, placing a bowl of cereal in front of me.

“Mmm,” I mumbled and shoved a spoonful into my mouth. He started to laugh.

“You radiate enthusiasm.”

“Make sure you don’t catch it, you’ve been pretty sad lately,” I continued his sarcasm.

He blinked at me and sat down. I grinned to myself as I took another spoonful of cereal.

“Can I take the car today?” I asked.

I had wanted to discuss this topic for a while. My situation was scary enough without my dad having to drive me to school.

“No, I’ll drive you.”

I threw my spoon into the bowl.

“You’re not driving me to school, dad,” I spoke as calmly as I could, knowing that a temper tantrum wouldn’t get me any closer to my goal.

“I need the car afterward,” he continued eating, unfazed by my reaction.

Angrily, I blew air out of my nostrils.

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Why do you insist on going against me in everything? What’s so bad about me taking you to school? You think I’ll embarrass you?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at me.

He already looked like a teenager, acting like one was too much, especially at the age of thirty-eight.

They say that firemen are some of the most attractive men in the world. If that was the case, then my father fit that role perfectly. I looked so much like my mother, but sometimes I wish I had taken after him – now more than ever. Maybe his gorgeous blue eyes, or his tanned skin, the opposite of the pale complexion I had inherited from my mother. At least their hair was the same black, the only difference being the platinum sheen that my father’s had. I couldn’t achieve that even if I ran the straightener through my hair for two hours. Mine was almost matte.

A few strands of hair fell rebelliously over his forehead, and I pouted, re-evaluating the fact that he was taking me to school.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” I relented, standing to carry my bowl to the sink.

I ran for the door before our eyebrow wagging contest got out of hand.

“What? If I wasn’t hot, what would have happened?” he shouted after me.

“If you weren’t hot, this conversation wouldn’t have happened and you wouldn’t have a car anymore,” I stuck my head through the doorway and signaled for him to follow me.

He came out of the house muttering that he couldn’t even finish eating because of me. After locking the door, he squeezed through the narrow garage, climbed into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door like a disgruntled teenager. I stifled my giggles.

The car seemed to fit in the garage a bit better, a sign that he had removed the cabinet. I scrutinized him from my seat, seeing how the T-shirt hugged his perfect body and the way his hair was combed. Perfect for a model father.

“What are you looking at?” he mumbled in a funny way.

I started to laugh. “You’re sexy!”

I slapped myself inwardly for the crap that came out of my mouth. My dad grinned shamelessly in response, his ego nearly purring.

“Aren’t I?” He winked at me, and I shook my head, still laughing. I urged him to start the car before our conversation continued. I was used to talking about things like this with … her, not with my dad.

The drive didn’t take long, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining different scenarios of how today would go. I tried to memorize as much of the new neighborhood as I could since I had locked myself in for the past week.

Downtown wasn’t that different from New York, but I wasn’t the best at orientation, so I preferred not to get too lost, at least not until I found someone to take me home. A new friend wasn’t exactly on my priority list, but it was on the list of necessities. Unfortunately, there was no one of my age that I had seen among my neighbors. There were only young, newly married couples or lonely older people. Across the street from us lived an old lady, alone, who treated the window like a reality TV show. She spied on her neighbors, just like I did. Well, I wasn’t spying on anyone, but I spent my time looking out the window, and sometimes I’d catch a brief comedy bit when my neighbor’s little boy played with the family’s dog.

“Good luck,” my father smiled, and I noticed that he had stopped the car in front of a huge establishment. It did not look anything like my old high school. Everything seemed so… bland.

The courtyard was already filled with happy, energetic teenagers enjoying their reunion. People were clustering together in groups – groups I wasn’t a part of. I did my best not to think about my friends from home, took a deep breath and rubbed my palms together.

“Thank you,” I sighed before climbing out of the car.

“I’ll pick you up after class,” he continued as I closed the door.

I nodded and turned around to face the campus. All eyes were already on me.

This is the hardest part, Katherine. Relax. Cool, calm, collected.

I coached myself as I walked, focusing my attention on the name Ballard High School engraved on the building. Our new neighborhood bore the same name.

The courtyard was huge, even if it didn’t look like a courtyard. The whole building was surrounded by a large lawn that was unrecognizable under the scurrying feet of the teenagers. I quickened my pace, overtook the people, and could already hear their whispers. When I entered, the hallways were full too.

I explored the campus in search of the admissions office to retrieve my registration form and class schedule, then started to mumble when I realized it was right in front of me and I had been staring aimlessly down the hallway. As if I needed to call more attention to myself.

I pushed open the heavy door and the air conditioning hit me in the face.

The room was pretty big, and there was a high counter on the wall opposite to the door. On either side of the counter were rows of waiting chairs. A huge map of the facility hung on one of the walls, and it probably wouldn’t hurt if I studied it. It looked painfully complicated, which meant I was going to get lost a lot in my new high school.

There was another girl waiting, and her smile reached her ears when she caught sight of me. I attempted a smile, sat down at a comfortable distance from her, and turned my attention to the boy at the counter who was arguing with the secretary.

“But I signed up for biology too,” he protested vehemently.

“You’re already signed up for too many classes, you won’t have time to take them all, and it’s not even part of your study track.”

“But that’s not fair! I studied biology for three years, and now you’re telling me I can’t sign up for it,” he yelled, pushing up his glasses and slamming a stack of papers on the desk.

I sighed and propped my head on my palms. This was going to take a while.

“Talk to the principal, my hands are tied.”

“I’m not leaving here until you sign me up for the course,” he argued, putting his hands on his hips.

I tapped my foot on the floor and waited for him to finish up his conversation, but that didn’t seem to be happening and the clock on the wall was ticking against him, because my patience was wearing thin.

The argument continued, ruining my peace, and no way was I sitting in this chair all day.

I jumped up and walked towards the counter, seeing the other girl’s eyes widen as I walked past her.

“Sorry, there are other people here.”

I tried to remain calm and pushed him aside to draw the secretary’s attention to me. The poor woman was desperately trying to find a solution to get rid of him.

“Wait your turn,” the biologist countered.

Well, that did it.

I approached him, and as he was shorter than me, my breath brushed against his forehead. As he looked up at me, I saw fear cross his features. It wasn’t my intention, but I’d gotten good at it lately.

“If you want to dissect frogs, find a swamp before I dissect you,” I growled and leaned closer to his face. His eyes widened, and I almost laughed when I heard him gulp.

“Sorry, I’ll come back later,” he stammered, gathering up his papers and leaving the office. I watched him go, amusement and confusion alternating on my face.

Was I really that scary?

“Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you! That boy eats your soul out, others barely study, and he studies too much,” the secretary sighed.

I turned to her and gave a forced laugh.

“You’re welcome!”

“So… what can I help you with?” she asked with a smile.

Had I already made a connection here? That was good, because she was asking me and not the girl who had been waiting before I even arrived.

“I think it’s her turn,” I pointed at the redhead with the big blue eyes, who looked at me like I had just performed a miracle.

“No! You won the right to go first, I have been waiting twenty minutes for that crazy guy, I can wait a few more for you.”

Her enthusiastic smile reminded me of my father.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I insist.”

It was getting annoying. I was trying to be nice for a change and ended up getting rejected.

“Wait, are you girls Katherine Wrise and Candice Talk?” the secretary asked, peeking over her glasses to study us more closely.

“Yes,” we replied simultaneously.

“I thought so, you two are the new girls. I’ll give you the paperwork in a minute,” she turned to a stack of folders while I played with a pen on the counter, trying to twirl it between my fingers.

“I’m Candice, nice to meet you,” the redhead held out her hand, the smile still on her face.

“Katherine, but call me Kath.”

“Kath? Shouldn’t it be Kate?”

I raised my eyebrows.

If you are going to be a smartass to me, you and I aren’t going to be very good friends.

“It’s Kath,” I repeated and turned to the secretary.

“Here you go, girls.”

She handed us our papers, including the timetable, a small map, and a form for our teachers to sign. Why did moving have to be so much damn work?

“How many classes do we have together? I hope a lot. It’s so nice to have found someone else who’s new. Where are you from? I love your makeup, I could never use that much black, I’d look like a crazy clown.”

My eyes widened as we left the office. This girl just couldn’t shut up. I skimmed over my timetable and prayed that we had as few classes together as possible. She was too talkative for my taste.

“Well, my study track is social sciences and English, so I have a lot of history classes, French, Latin…” I replied, remembering how much I used to love it, but now it all felt like math.

“Oh, too bad, mine is math and computer science,” she pouted.

“I’m sorry about that,” I lied and thanked God at the same time.

It was pure chaos here. Since it was the first day, there weren’t really any classes, and everyone was trying to catch up with their friends after the summer vacation. I wandered aimlessly through the corridors with Candice, who wouldn’t stop talking, and followed me around like a lost puppy. Had she really not noticed that I wasn’t listening? I kept gritting my teeth so as not to offend her.

I searched for my locker in the long line, frowning and getting angrier by the second.

“Oh, I found mine,” the redhead squealed excitedly.

Fucking good for you!

I noticed the other students looking at us, but mostly at her, which I was glad about.

She was like a 4D color TV, a new generation flat screen that took your breath away with millions of shades, while I was the antique black and white version – one that didn’t beguile with its images. The comparison made me smirk; it was as real as it was exaggerated. Her crimson hair stood out, while my dirty blonde offered me a sort of invisibility, erasing me from the picture, for which I was grateful. Candice was good at something; she drew all the attention away from me.

“I think mine is on the other side,” I assumed, glad that my locker wasn’t too close to hers.

I walked to the left, still watching the numbers on the lockers, until I bumped into something that threw me off balance. Another person.

Fuck me! Could I have not?

“Oh God, I’m sorry about that,” a soft male voice apologized as two arms helped hold me up.

I pushed my hair out of my face and looked into the incredible blue eyes of a boy with short brown hair.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, bending down to pick up the papers that flew out of my hands.

“Thank you,” I rubbed my forehead in embarrassment.

“No problem.”

“Do you happen to know where 572 is?” I asked, looking into his wide, friendly eyes. He was taller than me, and kind of thin.

“Well, it should be right next to me. Mine is number 569,” he jerked his head toward the long row of lockers painted white and red – the school colors.

He took my hand and pulled me along with him. A few steps later, I was standing right in front of locker 572. I looked on the page for the combination to the lock. 0820. I had to find something to tie the numbers to so I could memorize them, otherwise I would get stuck having to carry my books around all day.

I opened it and was surprised to find that all my books were already inside. I took out my water bottle, then threw my backpack in too, and slammed the door shut, making sure it locked automatically.

“Chris, where have you been?” I heard another voice behind me and turned towards it.

I noticed the brown-haired boy still standing next to me. I could have sworn he had left.

“I just bumped into the new student,” he introduced me, still smiling. Why did everyone smile so damn much in this town? I thought my dad was the only one who was weird. Did no one else have problems here?

And how did he know I was new? I guess it was pretty obvious, really. A normal student wouldn’t have been wandering the hallways analyzing locker numbers.

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Hi, I’m Zac,” the other guy smiled and held out his hand to me.

He was much more built than Chris and clearly belonged to a sports team. He had black hair that was styled into spikes and blue eyes like Chris. He was wearing a T-shirt with the school logo on it.

I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to make friends, but I had no choice.

“Kath,” I gave him a tight smile and shook his hand.

“Where did you guys disappear to? That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Out of nowhere, a girl with chocolate brown hair appeared, laughing as loud as she could, but not in an annoying way. Her face turned serious when she noticed me.

“Who’s this?” she asked with a wry smile.

“This is Kath, she’s new,” Zac clarified.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kristen, but you can call me Kris.”

Another hand, another smile.

“Katherine, but call me Kath, it’s nice to meet you too,” I forced myself into a friendly grin.

“Oh, and I’m sorry about that hyena laugh,” she pointed somewhere behind her, “I’d just heard the cheerleaders talking about the hottest guy in school, and trust me, you don’t need reality TV when you have something like that,” she almost burst out laughing again.

I laughed, too.

The hottest guy in school, huh? That could be something interesting to watch.

“And the hot guy was me, right?” Spoke Zac, flexing his muscles.

“You wish,” Kris snorted and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Kath?! Kath?!” I heard the fearful tone in Candice’s voice, as if she were a lost child in a supermarket calling out for her mother.

I introduced her to everyone, and unsurprisingly she was much happier to meet the others.

I had reached a point where I wasn’t sure if everyone else was weird or if I was the problem. Probably me.

Candice’s pink t-shirt looked like a lollipop. Actually, her whole face reminded me of one. I was 5’9”, but she was taller than me.

Kristen was more my style, wearing ripped black jeans and an oversized band T-shirt. She was shorter than me but had a bombshell figure. She seemed like the kind of girl who would hang out with the guys and get into trouble. The three of them suddenly reminded me of my old group.

It was sad, but somehow, I was glad I had found something that resembled the better version of what I had back home. Maybe this place wouldn’t suck so much after all. It all depended on me and how much I wanted to continue the moping. I could make new acquaintances pretty quickly when I wanted to.

“Okay, obviously there’s no class today, how about we go outside?” Chris asked, throwing his backpack into his locker.

“Sure,” we all replied, Candice’s voice covering all others.

We walked out into the yard, trying to find a spot in the sea of students standing all around. Meanwhile, Candice and I were being quizzed about moving to Seattle. Her parents had wanted a change of scenery, so the redhead relocated from Austin.

I kept the details of my story to myself.

We walked along the sidewalk until we reached the green space. All the benches were occupied, so we sat down on the warm grass. People were still giving us strange looks, me more than Candice. I’d had the impression that she was the center of attention, but apparently it was my turn to be scrutinized.

“The sun feels good,” Candice spoke in a thin voice, caused by the enthusiasm that resonated within her. We agreed with her and soaked up the warmth.

She was right, the weather was glorious. The sun was shining brightly, almost too warmly, and a light breeze here and there made thin strands of hair stick to my face.

I closed my eyes, propped myself up on my elbows and tried to relax while avoiding the chatter. Luckily, Candice was a chatterbox. But my peace was interrupted by some disturbing noises – a mixture of roaring, deafening bass and loud engines.

I opened my eyes, sat up and focused my attention on the noise.

My mouth dropped open as I saw the immaculate parking of four of the most beautiful cars I had ever seen. They all seemed to have come straight out of “The Fast and the Furious”. Their powerful engines sounded like a pack of jaguars, and I couldn’t recognize any of the brands. Sports cars, all painted in bright colors, with different drawings on the sides, some of them even childish. I had only ever seen tuning like this in video games.

The last one parked took my breath away. It was the spitting image of my latest obsession, namely Vantablack. I had no idea what make it was, because it looked so dark that it absorbed every speck of light and hid every detail on its bodywork, except for the decorations on the doors. They resembled demonic wings, still black, but a different shade. They bore no resemblance to the angel wings on my tattoo. They were truly evil, bat-like, bony, and scary. I’d never seen anything black applied over Vantablack before, let alone on a car.

Not only did those wings look real, but I could also have sworn they actually were, and I almost wanted to sprint towards them for a closer inspection. It was by far the most fascinating thing I’d seen in a long time. Was it legal to drive a car that could be mistaken for a black hole?

I thought the cars had stunned me, but the people getting out of them completely amazed me.

A group of about ten people caught the attention of all the students, while a graveyard-like silence swallowed up any murmur, as if everyone had suddenly disappeared. I wanted to make sure they were still there, but I couldn’t find the strength to tear my gaze away from the new arrivals.

“Looks like the stars are finally making an appearance,” Zac muttered angrily.

I looked at him briefly before returning my gaze to the others.

Extremely loud music was coming from the black car, making the ground beneath me tremble. Someone had yet to get out of that vehicle. I happened to know the song, it was Nightmare by 2Scratch – one of my favorites, and it was almost eerie how most of my latest obsessions were gathered in one place.

To say I was curious as to who was behind it would be an understatement.

“Come on man, time to learn,” shouted a blond guy amusedly, slapping the hood of the black car. The people around him laughed as the music came to a halt.

The passenger door swung open, and a blonde girl got out. She looked around the campus, exuding superiority and with an egotistical smile on her face. Her attitude screamed “diva”, and her outfit “hooker”. She ruined the car.

Calm down, Katherine. This is none of your business.

The driver’s door popped open so fast I flinched, since I was still looking at the chick. The silence swallowed me again, and all I heard and felt was my blood pressure rising. I saw a massive body materialize behind the black door.

Was it possible for the air to get stuck in your throat? Because that’s exactly what happened that second, and I coughed to check if I’d swallowed a fly or something. The guy walked in front of the others and propped his foot on the edge of the hood. His face was serious, a mixture of stiffness and boredom. He was the first person I’d seen who wasn’t smiling, but then again, no one else would have looked this good next to a car like this.

My eyes wandered down and analyzed the perfect shape of his body. He was so damn tall and massive; his muscles were so well defined under his tight black t-shirt; his arms were covered in tattoos. Now that was a tattooed body.

He was wearing combat boots, black sunglasses, and black cargo pants, but they weren’t too baggy on him. The guy had some muscles on his long legs. I wasn’t sure if this man was a high school student. He looked out of place, maybe a lethal soldier who had a free hour between deployments and spent it driving his girlfriend to school.

His hair was black, almost too black, and I was pretty sure he had dyed it. It had a wild cut. Yes, that was the right word. Short on the sides and a few long, mischievous curls on top. The wind teased them, and it instantly brought to mind the tousled look of hair after sex. I was convinced it looked like his. I shivered and dismissed the idea, but my mind kept wandering and I pictured my fingers in his hair.

What the fuck had gotten into me?

I tried to avert my eyes, but something kept my gaze fixed on him.

When he took off his sunglasses, I went into raptures. I had hoped he would be ugly behind the glasses, but I wasn’t so lucky.

Not lucky at all.

He grabbed the blonde who had climbed out of his car and pulled her into his arms, grabbed her ass and kissed her in a rough way. She willingly snuggled up to him and her short skirt threatened to ride up completely if she continued to cling to him. She was so colorful next to him that the contrast was almost comical, even more striking than with Candice and me.

I’d always had a thing for serious, tough guys. They were my version of the ideal man, but this one was off the charts. His tattooed arms were enough to make you suspect you weren’t dealing with a nice guy, because they stretched across his arms like black sleeves.

“Who are they?” Candice asked with wide eyes.

I almost winced when I saw how hard she was staring, fearing I had done the same.

“They’re the stars of this place, the group no one dares bother. They think they’re great and it’s only because they take part in illegal races, party in run-down garages and get high on drugs. They’re scum,” Zac described them, seemingly disgusted.

I watched him for a second. He talked about them as if they were some kind of lunatics, but given the cars they drove, I couldn’t imagine calling them that. Only the Vantablack color on that car probably cost more than my house.

“The so-called leader of the group is that guy, Harris,” Zac pointed to the one who had caught my attention.

He used his last name, so he probably didn’t like him much. Usually, people used last names when talking about people they did not like.

Judging by the frown on Zac’s face, it was something personal.

“Harris,” Candice whispered, mesmerized by his image. At least I wasn’t the only one.

“Yes. Harris Stone, but they call him the demon . He is the street demon,” Zac continued, not even trying to hide his hostility.

I turned my head “Wait, his first name is Harris?” I asked, unsure.

Zac nodded.

I glanced again at the boy – or rather, the man – who was letting the thirsty blonde pet him. Harris was a name I usually heard as a surname. His real surname and nickname matched his looks perfectly.

“People say he was named that because his mom loves birds,” Kris said, almost laughing.

I frowned in confusion, “What’s that got to do with it?”

“I have no idea, it’s stupid,” she shrugged her shoulders and giggled.

Chris gave Kris an annoyed look, and I would have bet a hundred dollars that he knew more about what she thought was stupid – even though I couldn’t find any connection between his name and a love of birds. When you don’t like someone, you tend to make up a bunch of crap about that person. Maybe his name was Harrison and he shortened it.

I watched the way he treated the girl next to him – or on top of him - and they didn’t seem to be in a relationship. He was just having fun with her body. She looked more like a piece of jewelry than a significant other. A guy who looked and acted like him could not possibly be in love with his girlfriend. Shortly afterwards, he pushed her away from him and threw her aside like a used handkerchief, which didn’t seem to bother her. She was probably used to it.

When he was finally alone, he turned his attention to one of his friends, whose hair was blonder than mine and was styled in thick, long spikes. He was tattooed too, and shorter.

Harris… or the demon had his arms crossed over his chest, making his muscles look bigger than they were. The guy next to him had probably said something that amused him.

My friends returned to their conversation, but Candice and I continued to stare. I was trying to figure out what they were saying, annoyed at my curiosity.

Suddenly, his grin disappeared, and seriousness spread across his features. Had he heard something unpleasant? He seemed to see through his friend for a second, then his head turned to me at warp speed.

And with that, my fate was sealed.

The direct contact with his eyes gave me an electric shock – a real shock for my whole body because every hair on my arms stood on end.

I hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t supposed to notice me. I was the invisible one, but his gaze proved that he could see me very well, and the air caught in my throat again as I was unable to move a muscle. I desperately wanted to look away, but his hypnotizing eyes wouldn’t allow it. They were capable of causing an implosion and he wasn’t even that close.

Look at Candice, look at Candice . I prayed, but to no avail.

I allowed him a few seconds to study me like everyone else. I was new, so curiosity was a normal reaction. But then he was supposed to look away and look at his shiny blonde, who was now too busy checking her makeup to notice that her boyfriend had exceeded the appropriate amount of time for observing a stranger.

Fuck !

I think I’d just found out who the hottest guy in school was, and of course, nothing sexy came without danger.