My mouth falls open and I swear he seems to read all the lunatic thoughts I’m having because he lifts his shoulder in a barely-there acknowledgment and I want to hide below the dashboard.
I will have a lot to write about in my journal tonight.
When he eventually starts moving, I do the same, trying to focus on the road—something I should have been doing all along—and not lusting after hot neighbor guy. He makes a left turn sooner than I need to, but it doesn’t stop me from obsessing. Thoughts of him distract me on the drive to school, so when I pull into the parking lot a few minutes later, I’m not doing the gross clammy sweat thing that seems typical of a first day of school, but I do feel a little overheated. Definitely better than gross clammy sweat.
I grab my bag and take my time before getting out, trying to think of a fitting mantra for the day. Laura, my new sponsor, is all about mantras. My mom has them posted all over the house. Laura seems great, but we’ll have to work on her lines.
“You’ve got this.”
“New day, new opportunity.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…”
They’re all a bit weak, like a second cup of tea with a used tea bag, and I don’t feel any more positive than I did before saying them. I look in the mirror, smiling, and give an old mantra my twist. “It’s probably going to be a shit day, so just get through it one step at a time.” I wink at myself because I’m a geek who talks to herself and then acknowledges it, and maybe Laura is onto something because I do feel better.
Even though I open my door slowly, the wind is strong. I don’t have a strong grip and the thud into the car door next to mine makes me yelp. No.
I hurry out of the car, my hand over my mouth as I hold back my squeaks of horror. I see the shoes first and then look up, up, up. I’m on the shorter side, but he’s extremely tall and now he’s looking at me like he wants to filet me over a grill and stick a stake through me. Hot neighbor guy.
I groan inside and then hold my hand out in an effort to be friendly.
“I’m…Gabriela Sinclair and I am so sorry.”
My mom decided I should go by my middle name. My parents have the clever business names of Sookie Lane and Hugh Jerod so I’ll be relatively safe using our real last name when the time comes, but for now it takes a minute to remember to say Gabriela instead of Josephine.
He stares at my hand and doesn’t bother shaking it. I awkwardly drop it and keep talking.
“I will pay for this. I swear it.” I stare at the dent in his car, which is an impressive sports car of some sort. I don’t know cars, but it’s even nicer than my newly leased Lexus. “Here, let me get my insurance information…I mean, you know where I live too, so you can always hunt me down if you don’t trust me.”
I chuckle and it dies in my throat when he doesn’t respond.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll just give you my number. Hang on a sec, I’ll write it down.” I grab a receipt sitting in my cup holder and write my number on it. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
He takes it but doesn’t acknowledge it, just stares at me with those eyes that seem to see inside my soul. He doesn’t like what he sees. That much is obvious when he tosses my card in his bag and leans down until he’s an inch from my face.
“You talk too much,” he says, his deep, raspy voice dripping over my skin like hot lava. I shiver and he notices, the ice in his eyes crisping into frosty ice cubes. “This little incident and the one earlier will cost you, but I’m sure I can come up with a few ways for you to repay me.” His eyes flicker to my lips and that whole lack of air becomes a problem again. He leans back and crosses his arms, and I feel dismissed.
His glare is an assault on my nerves and I back away, needing to put distance between us. I have a feeling this guy isn’t going to make anything easy for me. Too hot for his own good, and entitled bastard is written all over him…yet my heart is quadrupling over itself.
I hustle into school and barely catch my breath when I reach my locker. One positive thing about the altercation with hot neighbor guy is I didn’t even notice all the kids staring at me on my way inside. I take my blazer off and hang it in the locker, grabbing the notebooks I’ll need for the next couple of classes. When I slam it shut and turn around, it’s like all of us turn as one to appreciate the guys walking in the door. The hot bastard—his name is a work in progress until I find out what it is—is flanked by two other hot guys. The one on his left is pale with black hair that you just want to sink your hands into and explore. The one on the right has dark skin, a captivating smile, and his body is chiseled stone. They’re both beautiful, but I’m captured by the guy in the center. The way his hair slightly curls over his ears and his too-toned for high school body.
The second he sees me staring, I try to look away, but my gaze is drawn back to his. I wish I could control my curiosity, but it’s impossible. Girls swarm them in a matter of seconds and still his glare seems to have it out for me. I remind myself he looked like that before I hit his
