Angel Kissed

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Skylar

How the heck did that happen? Leaning back against the closed door, a goofy smile spread across my face, I scrambled to figure out how I'd managed to score a date with one of the hottest guys I'd ever seen.

I wasn't a stranger to crushes or falling under the spell of a local good-looking jock from school. I'd experienced my own heart-fluttering moments when the object of my affections would glance my way or casually nod hello as we passed in the hallway.

I was used to those tentative first moments where something inside me jumped with excitement, instantly conjuring up a variety of possibilities for later daydreams. They were the cherished seconds that helped fuel my artwork—that certain something that gave it the romantic flare I loved including.

The term "flirting" seemed to pale in comparison to what just happened. Nothing could've prepared me for Ryder. I didn't know what it was about him, but anticipation bubbled up inside me. Regardless of my first impressions of Heather, Ryder had set everything back to right—restoring my enthusiasm and desire to explore and savor each new experience in my new locale.

And it all started with him, tonight.

Taking in a deep breath that evolved into a slightly nervous giggle, full-blown panic set in a second later. He'd be here to pick me up in a few hours and everything I owned was still packed up in the piles of boxes that filled my new bedroom.

I wanted to dazzle him on our date. He might have seemed fine with my current choice of attire—faded jeans, my favorite Rolling Stones shirt, and hoodie; but this was cause for celebrating. Not only was this my very first night in Arista, it was also what I hoped would be the first of many dates with Ryder.

Don't get ahead of yourself, Skylar, I inwardly warned myself, not wanting to get my hopes up in case our newly formed acquaintance found itself in the dreaded friend zone. While there was nothing wrong with that, I'd already started envisioning future make out sessions with him.

Even though I considered myself somewhat naïve when it came to guys, something told me he was just as interested in me as I was in him. If anything, we'd both have fun figuring out how we each felt.

It was the magic of falling in love. It was the stuff that melted every romantic bone in my body.

"Geez," I groaned, this time out loud. My imagination was already running away from me. If I kept thinking this way, there was no doubt I'd slip up and send Ryder fleeing for his life, by morphing from the helpless girl unloading boxes in the street into a crazy stalker who locked her boyfriends in the basement.

Returning to my room, I didn't let the mess inside deter me. Unpacking could wait until tomorrow. While my to-do list continued to grow as I added new things to it, living life in the moment was always a top priority. Preparing for school was mostly covered and, from the research I'd done over the Internet, finding a job shouldn't be too hard, either.

"Fun first, then work," I announced, glancing about for the pile I'd began for my clothing. My taste in style was eclectic at best—the perfect representation of my quirky personality. I loved being able to dress according to my different moods. Mom used to laugh each morning because she never completely knew what I'd come downstairs to breakfast wearing—preppy schoolgirl vs. a little Goth, long flowing peasant skirts with a decorative flower clip in my braided red hair vs. my favorite army cargo pants and white tank top.

She liked to say it was the artist in me that indulged in such widespread diversity. Mom was right, but it was more than that. I loved celebrating the collision of colors and textures. I enjoyed exploring who I was through fashion. If I hadn't developed such a passion for painting and photography, there's no doubt I'd have gravitated toward becoming a designer.