Carrie was silent for a while, choosing to read a magazine as opposed to listening to the teacher or talking any more to me. I took the opportunity to glance around the room and take in my fellow classmates. Everyone already appeared to have a group of friends in this class…everyone, that was, except Carrie. Good; at least now I might have someone to spend time with. Growing bored, I thought a moment. Play a game of Novel, or look through the packet? Well, considering Novel might give me unrealistic expectations of my fellow boarding school alumni, I just looked through the packet. For a few minutes, anyway. Then, Carrie, clearly bored with how prissy I was acting, reached out and smacked me on the shoulder, barely looking up from her magazine. My head whipped around in confusion. “What?” I whispered, shutting the offending packet and raising my eyebrows.

“Don’t want people thinking you’re a geek right off the bat. Then no one will talk to you…except the other geeks. And not one of them is a desirable male. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.” She winked. Then she flipped the magazine onto my desk and tapped a page with her long, French-manicured fingernail. I glanced at the page, and a huge color spread of the latest teen dream (who merely went by “Damien,” as apparently he had no last name,) and hissed, “I met him. He’s a hottie.” She fanned herself and gave an exaggerated sigh. Having forgotten exactly what Damien had done to get himself in magazines all across the country, I must say that I felt rather foolish. But I couldn’t help being a bit confused. Had I seen him somewhere before? He looked oddly familiar…ooh, wait, what’d she say?

“Did you hear me, Lynn?” She demanded, looking slightly irritated.

“Sorry…the last thing I heard was that he’s a hottie.” I admit, wincing.

She sighed again, but this time her sigh was one of exasperation.

Clearly, she needs to get over her little superiority complex. “What did you say?”

“I said his best friend goes here. He’s such a sweetie. But he’s nowhere near as hot as Damien, of course. Is anyone?” She laughed, stroking the magazine page fondly.

Um…? “Where’d you meet him?” Because despite myself, I was curious.

“At one of his concerts. I had a backstage pass, so I got a whole hour with him before the show. He kissed me on the cheek before he went onstage…said I was his good luck charm.” She beamed, looking as though she’d never heard a more romantic thing in her life.

“That’s amazing.” I meant it, as Damien was absolutely gorgeous. “How was the show?”

“It was phenomenal.” She exclaimed, her eyes widening with her exhilaration. “He was phenomenal. His songs are so…I don’t know…sexy. Meaningful, you know? Like, he’s the only pop star in the universe who sings about something other than, like, hookups and hot chicks.”

Not the only one, I’m sure, but it is quite the accomplishment. “What were his songs about?”

“You’ve never heard one of Damien’s songs?” Her jaw dropped. “I feel so bad for you, Lynn. Here.” She whipped out her ipod and offered me one of the earpieces. I reached out to take it…and the bell rang. Carrie swore under her breath. “You can hear it at lunch.”

I nodded. “Cool, see you then.” I called, feeling great. Maybe she had some issues, but I at least had someone to talk to.

She grabbed the magazine, stuffed it into her bag and left without a backward glance at the classroom.

I consulted my schedule and headed down the hallway. Luckily for me, my next class was just a few doors down, so I was the first in the room, other than the teacher. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Do I know you?”

I blinked. “Um…I’m a new student? Lynn Ampedia?”

“Let me see your schedule. No one told me about a new student,” he snapped, rather obnoxiously in my own personal opinion.

“Is this room 214?” I inquired in an innocent tone.

“Yes. Let me see the schedule.” He held out his hand and glared at me through his hideous heart shaped bifocals. I quickly glanced down, so I didn’t have to look at them a moment longer. What kind of grown man wears heart shaped glasses?

“And are you Mr. Raymond Dermott?”

“Yes. Let me see the schedule.” Well excuse me, but I do believe that I just proved that I am supposed to be in this class.

“Here you go, sir.” I handed it to him, looking anywhere but at those bifocals. Something is clearly wrong with this man.

He made an odd sound in the back of his throat and practically threw the paper back at me. “Fine. Sit in the third seat, first row.” He slammed his planner down onto the desk in question, in case I couldn’t figure out which one it was.

“Kay…” I sat down immediately, more than a little freaked out by this guy.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and one of the hottest men I have ever, in my entire life, seen, walked…no. Strutted in. And clearly, I have done something right, because by some stroke of excellent karma, he threw his books onto the desk right next to mine. He was halfway back out the door and still hadn’t realized that something was different.

“Where are you going, young man?” Dermott demanded. Ha…Dermott…demanded…alliteration! Fun!! Oops. Ahem. Anyway…

“Gotta go to my locker, sir.” He had a deep, mellow sounding voice, yet it was somewhat hoarse at the same time. I shivered unconsciously. I’ve been here less than two periods and my life is already turning into a cliché. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

“No, I don’t think you do. You’ve got everything you need for this class.” Well, if this is going to make him sit down, maybe Dermott isn’t so bad after all.

He rolled his eyes and sauntered his way over to his desk. Then, finally, he did a double take. “Whoa. What?”

Not the best intro in the world, I’ll admit it. But better than nothing. “Hey. I’m new…my name’s Lynn.” I held out my hand, trying to ignore the loud and somewhat painful thumping of my heart. I can start over here. I don’t have to be shy if I don’t want to be…

“Hey.” He smiled. “I’m Ryan. Good to meet you.”

Do not pass out do not pass out do not pass out donotpassoutdonotpassout. . .

“Don’t mind him,” Ryan whispered, rolling his eyes again in the direction of Dermott and leaning closer to me, “he’s just in a bad mood today because someone made fun of his new glasses yesterday.”

“I wonder why.”

He laughed, his gorgeous hazel eyes crinkling at the corners and a lock of perfect black hair falling into one eye. “Yeah…it was me.”

I smiled, trying to remember how, exactly to breathe.

“So…where are you from?” He looked like he really wanted to know. !!! Breathe. In, then out, and then answer the question.

“Um…” … … … …

He raised his eyebrows at me, confused.

“Oh! Sorry. New Jersey.” I blushed, feeling like a major idiot.

“Was it nice there?” Omigosh, even after I made a complete loser of myself, he kept talking to me.

“Yeah. There were beaches and everything…I love beaches; so I don’t know how this is gonna go.” I laughed a little.

He nodded sympathetically, and I realized out of nowhere that the room had been gradually filling with students the entire time we were talking. Also, at some point, someone had placed a large and heavy looking science textbook on my desk, which was pretty much covered in papers.

How I got this lucky I can’t begin to fathom.

AN: Sorry, it’s been a while. This might seem a little clichéd right now…but is it a good kind of cliché? Is it one of those lovely guilty pleasure clichés? I hope so. (Crosses fingers.) Let me know!!!!