Mismatched.

Two

Change of point of view!

“Have you guys seen the new guy? He's so hot.” My friend Nicky and I look at each other across the blue lunch table and roll our eyes at Melody.

“You think everyone is hot, Mel.” Nicky points out. Which is true. Melody has had a long history with bad relationships. Not to diss her or anything, she's just one of those girls that has to have a boyfriend.

“Why would they transfer during the last term of school anyway?” I ask and both girls immediately start to come up with explanations.

“Maybe he's one of those bad boys and he got kicked out of his old school.”

“Maybe he became an orphan and had to move to his grandma or something.”

“Maybe he had to move because the humans were close to figuring out that he was a vampire.”

Nick and I both look at her, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“What?” She asks defensively. “It could happen!”

“He's an exchange student.” I turn around to face Marcie-the-blue-eyed-she-bitch, skeptical.

“And how would you know that?” She hears the challenge in my voice and narrows her eyes at me.

“Because I have third period with him. Ms.Nelson made him introduce himself. But I wouldn't go trying to chase after him. He's mine.”

I hear Nicky and Mel make twin gasps of disgust.

“We'll see about that.”

Rolling her eyes at me, Marcie turns on the heel of her white Louis Vutton sandals and prances away to her friends.

“She is such a bitch.” Mel states after we all stare daggers at her back for a minute before turning back to our food.

“Some things never change.”

Marcie and I had a very colorful past. She had stolen my boyfriend in ninth grade and then had the nerve to say that I hadn't deserved him. I had turned around to leave and then she pulled my hair! So I slapped her and that turned into a full out cat fight. We had both been expelled for three days considering that the fight had occurred in the middle of class.

“You coming?” I look up to see Mel's brown eyes staring down at me.

“The bell rang. You know, the bell that tells you when to go to class?”

“Shut up.” I command, blushing. I've always blushed easily. Another one of my major downfalls.

My next class is Art. Thank God, I need a break from all this academic mess.

I walk straight over to one of the circular tables and draw my sketchbook out of my bag, plopping it down on the table beside an assortment of colored pencils.

The assignment this week is to draw a person that is important in your life. I chose my grandpa who died a few months back. The drawing I was aiming for was my him and I fishing at the lake we would go to every summer. I was almost finished but I kept drawing his hands wrong.

Sighing in aggravation I erase my latest failure.

“Try drawing the hands with three joints, not two.” A low voice sounds behind me.

I turn to tell the guy where to shove it and am silenced when I see his face. This must be the new guy: I would remember a boy like this.

First off, he's tall. So tall infact, that I have to crane my neck to see him. And I'm not short. 5'2 is not short!

His face. Oh dear God!

Chiseled and handsome, with curly golden-brown hair atop it. His eyes are an enchanting blue. A perfect blue, the exact same color as the walls of my bedroom.

I would love to draw him.

He extends a hand down for me to shake.

“I'm Carlo.” I take his hand and notice how it engulfs mine completely.

“Adeline.” His blue eyes widen and he repeats my name softly, as if tasting it. The way he says it has me wanting him to say again and again for hours. Which is definitely weird.

“Nice to meet you.” He gazes intensely at me, releasing my hand, almost reluctantly.

“You too.” I say, curving my shoulders in a bit from the feel of him staring at me. I go back to my sketch, trying to ignore the feeling of him looking at me. Glancing back at the paper in front of me, I quietly groan and flip to the next page to begin a new sketch.

I draw the boy-Carlo, as odd as that sounds. And the funny thing is, I draw myself beside him, not realizing it until I have finished the drawing.

The bell sounds and I gather my things and head to my locker to get my stuff for dance practice almost in a haze, not noticing anything around me.

Why do I feel this way?