Mila Wilson is quiet, anxious and a little bit of a mess. Panic attacks have ruled her life for as long as she can remember - but starting college is her chance to take control. Love? Not something she believes she's built for.
Then she meets Jace E...
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Turning around would be too obvious now, I feel it in my bones. Never show your enemies you're scared, right?
I quickly avert my gaze, ignoring the stare I know is lingering on me, and keep walking - just a little faster than before. I consider turning my music up, drowning them out, but I'm afraid I won't hear if they follow me. My legs are shaky as I near the bench, praying no one notices my presence. I focus hard on keeping a straight face, eyes glued to my feet as they carry me forward, step after step.
A large shadow falls in front of me, and I know I've failed. My heart skips, threatening to explode, and thudding in every nerve of my body. I lift my gaze - and see the tallest guy from the group blocking my path. His presence alone intimidates me.
"Hey, beautiful," he drawls, his voice groggy.
I instinctively pull out one earbud out of politeness, taking a better look at him. He's scruffy, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. His eyes have nothing on Brown Eye.
I freeze, feeling the second wave of discomfort hit as he invades my space. I step back, cheeks burning - I must be red as a tomato.
"Hi," I whisper shakily, my eyes flicking to the other three guys.
I don't know how, but I manage to quickly scan them. Like I noticed earlier, they're all dressed alike - dark jeans, dark shirts. The two boys flanking the bench, both blonde, act oblivious, letting the guy in front of me do whatever he wants. I know immediately they won't be of any help. The knot in my stomach tightens.
Then my eyes lock, once again, with the beautiful brown ones from earlier. And I shyly look away. He's intimidating on a whole different level. I know he was watching me before. Now, he's perched on the backrest of the bench, feet planted on the seat. His gaze is steady, burning in to me - and oddly, instead of making me colder like the others, his stare makes me feel warm. His face is unreadable, but I swear there's a flicker of concern in his eyes. Unlike the others, only one of his arms is inked in tattoos, not his whole body. He's, by far, the most beautiful person I've ever seen - with his dark hair and piercing gaze. There's no doubt he's popular with girls.
"Never seen you around here before," the guy in front of me smirks. "Why don't you sit with us for a bit, gorgeous?"
His words make me cringe. I summon all the courage I have to avoid him.
"Sorry, I have to go," I say, crossing my arms, stepping around him, shoving my earbud back in.
But he blocks me again, nearly making me crash into him. My frustration and fear spike. My throat tightens; I fight to steady my breathing. Not here. Not now. Not in front of them.
"Not so fast," he says smugly. "Come on, I'm sure you've got a few minutes?"
I can't find any words and I hate myself for it. My cheeks blaze with a mix of embarrassment and dread. The air feels thinner.
