The Theory of Kayden

prologue

\\ feeling my way through the darkness

guided by a beating heart

i can't tell where the journey will end

but i know where to start \\

avicii - wake me up

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It's bullshit, really, that I'm sitting here, on my 18th birthday, studying for my maths exam. I should be out getting drunk with my friends and having a good time, but now, instead, I'm stuck in the library with the clock getting no closer to 6 so I can go home for dinner.

I knew the moment I walked into my advanced higher maths class back in August that I shouldn't be taking it and I was right, even back then when I was a young and immature 17-year-old. And then I should've walked out the door when Mr Turner said the words 'second-order differential equation' but I didn't.

And now it's come to bite me on the arse.

It's my final exam and then I'm done with school forever. Well, until I go to uni but that's definitely not happening until next year. I've decided for the sake of my sanity to take a gap year and hopefully gain some photography work experience with whoever will take me on. I'm not fussy.

It's official. I've hit a block. There's no way I'm going to do well in this exam. No way in hell.

With a sigh to myself, I stand up and tuck my phone into my back pocket, the music still playing in my ears. I grab my water bottle and head over to water fountain out in the corridor.

Unfortunately, it's a pretty quick one and fills my bottle up too quickly and now it's time for me to go back to staring at my books. However, once I begin to head back to my seat, I see that there's someone sitting in it.

And if I know that ratty cap and pair of sunglasses, that somebody is Nate.

I peel my earphone out my ear and tuck them into my pocket before stealing his hat off his head and placing it on mine. Instantly, he turns around, clearly ready to give someone shit for taking his hat. The hate is written all over his face. Even with his sunglasses on, I can tell what he's thinking.

"Just me," I say to him before collapsing into the seat next to my old one. "Why are you here?"

He sighs and turns to me, leaning his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the desk. "I was bored at home and Mum is doing my head in. I really don't think she realises that I look after myself ninety per cent of the time."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "And the other ten per cent?"

"I have someone looking after me," he shrugs and I can't help but grimace at the smirk gracing his lips. It's no secret that Nate's a massive player. I give him shit for it all the time, as do the tabloids, but I doubt he's changing any time soon.