Pictures of You

Part 5 - The Past

The quiet tapping of keys whispers around me as I flip through the school newspaper on my Chromebook. The Creek Falls Chronicles is just a small local rag. Far as I can tell, no one even reads, but writing for it would be amazing for my college applications. If things go my way, I'll be editor by junior year.

I'm right in the middle of an informative article on the school cafeteria when the chair beside me screeches across the floor. Startled, I turn to look and come face-to-face with the bold blue eyes of Ryan Shaye.

"What are ya reading?" he asks, jutting his chin toward the screen.

I smile politely, certain he can hear my heart hammering against my ribs. But my brain goes into to overdrive, wiping away the thin layer of lust corroding my better judgement. "School newspaper."

He tsks. "Why you wasting your time with that garbage?"

"I want to be a journalist."

The corner of his mouth curls like a bow, and my palms get damp. I press my hands together and slip them between my thighs to calm my quivering fingers. "There was a good article about you in here. The first Varsity freshman in Creek Falls history. Impressive."

"Checking up on me, huh?"

A shush bursts from somewhere in the room. I lower my voice to merely a whisper. "Not exactly."

"It's okay," he murmurs. "I've been checking up on you, too."

"Oh yeah?" I say with a raised brow. "What did you learn?"

"That you're a Saint Mary's fairy."

I press my mouth into a thin line. I've been hearing that taunt from public school kids since kindergarten. I hoped it would have tapered off by the time I got to high school.

"Don't get uppity. I'm just messing with you." A hint of pink flashes between his lips as he reaches between his legs and pulls his chair closer. "Let's see . . . Your last name is Hargrove, you have study hall period three, and your hair smells like raspberries."

I blink, my stern expression falling flat. "That's some good detective work."

"Anything you wanna know about me?"

"Lizzy told me to stay away from you," I blurt, only to get shushed again.

His face remains passive. "You should know that being friends with Lezzy Hulse is social suicide."

I purse my lips, my blood turning cold as I turn back toward my screen. "Is it now?"

"Listen, I ain't about telling people who they should and shouldn't be friends with, but I'd hate to see you get tangled up with the wrong crowd on your first day."

"Thanks for your concern. If I want your advice in the future, I'll ask for it."

"Suit yourself," he says, leaning his back against the chair.

The librarian's voice cuts the tension between us. "Mr. Shaye, don't you have a class you should be attending at this moment?"

"Probably," he snarks in response.

Eyes wide, my head whips in his direction. "Wait . . . you don't have study hall right now?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Another heart-stopping grin curls his lips. "I came to talk to you."