A/N: Edited October 20, 2008

Chapter One - Please

“Can we talk?” his voice was soft, but urgent. “Please?”

Ha. Like I’d even give him a second of my time. After what he’d done to me? But then again, I did care for him...more than I needed to. More than was healthy. And although I had every right to think poorly of him, I didn’t want him to think badly of me. My anger and my buried feelings were fighting a bloody battle.

His hand brushed against my shoulder. I jumped away from the contact. His skin against mine was unbearable. Especially when I thought of how it had been so natural for him to grab my hand or wrap his arm around my waist before. Before…

“Please, Kate?” his pleading voice broke into my memories. “I need to-”

“Fine,” I interrupted. “Whatever. Just make it...quick.” and painless, I added in my head. I wasn’t trying to make my voice so icy, but I was glad it was; he couldn’t know how he still affected me.

He stared for a moment, shock written all over his handsome features.

“What?” I demanded. His scrutiny was unwelcome. He started to reply.

“I didn’t expect you to agr—”

“Seth, do you have something you want to say to the rest of us?” Mr. Bloomgard, the calculus teacher, interjected. I blushed. The stern old man wasn’t even looking at me, and I still felt guilty. Seth just shook his head.

“No sir. Unless everyone else wants a date with Kate, too...” his smooth voice trailed off. The color on my cheeks deepened. I heard a few whistles and saw a few boys nodding their heads vigorously—disgusting. Bloomgard just rolled his eyes and continued the lesson. I turned my gaze towards Seth; if looks could kill was the only thing that came to mind. He was grinning until he saw my face. He leaned over to whisper to me again, but I turned my head, tuning him out. The humiliation wasn’t worth it.

The bell came to my rescue. I practically jumped from my seat. I was the first out the door, and I could feel the rest of the class’ eyes on me. No one said anything until I was around the corner. But I could hear the laughter halfway down the hall.

“A date with Kate!” A boy praised Seth. “Good one!” I could visualize the high fives in my head.

Boys. Good to look at, but not much else.

xxXxx

He’d said he wanted to talk to me. But not when or where. Typical Seth.

By fourth period, I was fed up with school—my “friends” were so shallow. Well, everyone except Michelle, but she was out sick. So I opted to go to the library instead of the cafeteria during lunch.

My favorite part of Southwest High school was the library. I loved the comfy chairs, the smell of old books, the relaxing atmosphere—everything. Books had always been my escape; I was retreating into them even more this year.

So I settled into a chair and ignored my rumbling stomach. I was a romantic at heart; if you judged by my actions and comments towards boys you would imagine otherwise. I enjoyed love stories. If I couldn’t have my own prince charming just yet, I would read about other women finding theirs. My nose was buried in Pride and Prejudice for thirty minutes. Mr. Darcy was about as close to prince charming as you could get.

As soon as Jane Bennet got sick, the bell rang. I stifled my groan as I dragged myself to history class; Seth sat next to me once again. Why had the administration put us together most of the day? It was pure torture now that we weren’t together anymore.

I was in my seat before he was; Seth was always late. He grinned as he slid into the desk next to me right when the bell rang.

“Open your books to page 506, please...” the teacher then proceeded to read the section aloud to us. I rolled my eyes; as if juniors couldn’t read for themselves. I dragged my book open, but I wasn’t planning on following along. Instead, I slipped my AP Chemistry homework out of a folder and ignored the voice at the front of the room droning on and on.

I was only on the second problem when a small triangle landed on my desk. Seth. I was curious for a moment, but I stopped myself. I couldn't be happy when he paid attention to me. Not anymore. The anger was carefully in place when I turned to look at him.

"Are you in third grade now?"

He snickered. I glowered; I wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Well, open it!” he urged. The history teacher glared in Seth’s direction. Seth followed my eyes and, realizing we were being observed, shut up. Thank the Lord. I turned back to my chemistry work, ignoring the note. Every few minutes, I felt Seth’s eyes on me. He was getting frustrated. I found it funny.

Once again, the bell rescued me. Seth stood up before me, grabbed my purse, and shoved the note inside.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Read it. You said you’d talk to me later. Is a note any worse than a conversation?” He had grabbed my hand while he was talking. I tried to yank it away, but his hold didn’t budge. “Well?” he pressed.

“Yes, it’s different. It means you can’t say it to my face.” Anger empowered me, and I was finally able to free myself from his grasp. As I slid out the door, my wrist still tingled from his touch.