GREY [on hold]

Study

REMMINGTON'S POV:

"NO. GO AWAY. GET OUT. SHEW YOU PEST." I wanted to yell at the hot vampire-look-alike. He just stood there. With so much cockiness. hair messy and loose. I wish he still had his sunglasses on.

I don't know why I hated him so much already. Maybe because he looked like a total douche who probably only wanted two things:

to get in all the girl's pants and to get a cigarette.

It felt like he had being leaning in the doorway for hours, just staring at me. His right shoulder pressed hard against the door frame, his whole body weight reliant of the cold metal. His arms folded in front of him on his chest, outlying more of his torso's shape.

He looked like he had just stepped out of a Hollister magazine. He was tall, maybe 6 foot, unlike my short 5'5 body. The leather jacket that bound his back, pulled tight as his arms were crossed, making his arm muscles visible. I followed my gaze down his left sleeve and to his wrist, where some sort of black ink on his skin slithered up and into his jacket to where it was barely noticeable.

Did he have a tattoo? Already?!

His eyes that had been engraved in my skin, were very visible from across the room. A milky light grey with shards of dark grey splintered throughout it. They looked cold, and in lack of a soul. Like a wolf eyeing down it's prey. They felt strong, and powerful. They could put you in a trans, make you worship the god. I mean, I assume thats how most girls would describe him. I'm not attracted to him though, so I wouldn't know.

The stranger who apparently was named Chase, had this natural smirk that twisted around his light pink lips, not just any kind of smirk either. The kind that would have most girls drooling, the kind that could cut through diamonds and slice the very prisms of your eyes. And it told me only one thing, he was trouble.

His skin was kissed and worshipped by the very sun god himself, as if he were the horizon in the evening. He had a natural golden bronze. Unlike his eyes, his skin seemed warm.

"You're late, Mr. um, Zable," Mr. Rutherford chuffed at the boy, obviously just as annoyed by his rebellious appearance as I was.

Chase's eyes finally lifted from me and slithered over the towards the teacher like an oil spill. He pulled his weight off the door and stood tall. entering the classroom.

"Where shall I sit?" his voice was husky and deep, it had a beautiful cracked sound to it. It could compare to a thunderstorm.

Mr. Rutherford gestured the only empty seat in the classroom, luckily, no where near me.

Chase swayed over to the empty desk, looking into the glazed over eyes of all the students who were, for some reason, mesmerizingly staring at him. His stare lasted a few seconds longer on me, looked me up and down while chuffing quietly. I squinted my eyes at him and gave him a nasty look.

I never usually had an attitude, nor do I ever have the courage to come up with one. What was happening?

He finally sat down. The whole class was still dead silent.

I rolled my eyes at the attention he was recieving. And for the rest of class hour, I tried to ignore him and his snarky remarks at everything Mr. Rutherford said.

And even though he sat over there, leaning back in his seat, legs up on the desk, hands behind his head, with that smirk plastered to his face, I still didn't find him attractive.

Once the bell rang I stood up packing my bag, ready to head out. Chase slowly strolled up behind me as if he had no where to be and all the time in the world.