“Swoooosh!”

* * *

I’d learned more about the new kid from the gossip of the hallways than from his actual mouth.

“Did you know he’s from the South?”

“Like, Brazil?”

“I hear he speaks French.”

“He’s sooo hot.”

“His mom named him Alabama!”

“He has tattoos on his you-know-what!”

“That accent is fake.”

“He’s already made out with some chick in the locker room!”

“I heard it was a threesome!”

“He’s a word wizard.”

“I saw him first!”

By sixth hour the sophomore, junior, and senior girls were already laying claim on the new guy while the freshmen lurked in the shadows. They surrounded his locker like lovesick puppies, twirling their hair and pushing out their chests. I felt bad for the guy. He didn’t have a chance at remaining mysteriously new with a face like that and a Southern accent like his.

I stood at my locker, glancing over at him and his fanatics. Every now and then he would say something to them, and the girls would turn my way and stare at me.

I’d never been stared at in the past, even with all of my different hair colors, dramatic makeup, and odd outfits. The students at Mayfair Heights high school were determined to keep me invisible, which was completely fine by me.

Until now. Now they were turning my way giggling, and flipping their hair over their shoulders before looking back at the new kid.

Is he mocking me?

Are they all mocking me?

It was amazing how a couple hair flips and sarcastic laughter could make a person want to climb inside of their locker and stay hidden for the next one hundred and seventy-nine days. Or at least until the final bell. I slammed my locker and went on my way in the opposite direction of the group of dicks and divas.

Bunch of assholes.

“Do you know where room one-twelve is?” Deer Boy asked, hurrying over to me.

I arched an eyebrow, a little annoyed with his smug ‘I’m sexy and I know it’ personality. “The swarm of girls attacking you couldn’t help you out?”

“So you noticed.”

“Noticed what?” I asked.

“You noticed them noticing me?”

Hesitation fell against my tongue. “…Yes…”

“Which in turn means you noticed me.”

I wasn’t amused. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” I asked.

“Okay, I won’t flatter myself.”

His eyes were filled with such ease and sincerity that I almost lost myself in them.

I blinked. “You’re weird.”

“Weird in a charming way or just…weird-weird?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure which it was yet. Maybe both. “Why were you guys looking at me?”

“Oh. I asked them your name. None of them knew it, though, and for some reason they thought that was comical.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Figures. I knew everyone’s name in our school and they couldn’t take the time to figure out mine.

“Why were you asking about me anyway?”

“I don’t know. I guess I get curious about girls who walk through the woods at six in the morning on Sundays.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Levi Myers.” He gestured as if he was going to bow before me when he delivered me his name. Then he went ahead and did it. He fully bowed. He was tipping over into the weird-weird territory.

“You’re Mr. Myers’ kid?” I paused, thinking. “I never knew Mr. Myers had a kid.”

“Yeah well, that’s my dad for ya.” His eyebrows furrowed. A slight look of disappointment passed through Levi’s eyes before he blinked and the softness returned to his stare. “And you are?”

“Aria.”

“Really? Aria?”

“Yes…”

“Not Becky? Or Casey? Maybe Katie?”

“Nope. Aria.”

He crossed his arms, and my eyes took notice of the eye tattoo on his left hand, resting between his thumb and pointer finger. “I spent all day trying to figure out your name and Aria wasn’t in the top twenty names.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no. I like it. Aria.” He smiled and placed his thumb between his teeth as he studied my face. “Aria.” His head tilted to the left and right. “Arrriaaa.”

Stop saying my name.

I shifted my body weight around. Now he was swimming in the weird-weird territory, and I had to admit, his weird persona was so far from his hot exterior. He was his own oxymoron.

If there were a list of the top five oxymorons in the world it would look like this:

Great Depression.

Tragic comedy.

Original copy.

Jumbo shrimp.

Levi Myers.

“So do you always walk around those woods at six in the morning?” he questioned. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his somewhat scruffy chin and then brushed his thumb against his top lip.

I lingered a few seconds, trying to take in all of his facial characteristics. My eyes blinked twice. “Sometimes. Do you always feed random deer at six in the morning?” I asked sarcastically.

“Always,” he said with confidence.

I couldn’t stare at his eyes anymore because they were making me lightheaded. Actually the whole hallway was making my head spin. I took a breath and closed my eyes. When I reopened them, his brown eyes were still staring at me. Crap. My stomach flipped. Clearing my throat, I gestured down the hallway. “Room one-twelve is over there. Right past the cafeteria.”