Jesus! I jerk back at the voice, slam the book closed, and shove it in my bag. I don’t show anyone certain drawings, not even Dax. They’re too personal. Scowling and annoyed, I look up to see a gorgeous, pale girl with wavy blonde hair staring at me expectantly with her wide blue eyes. She’s literally breathtaking.
And I turn into the world’s biggest tosser.
“No,” I bark rudely, embarrassed to have been caught doing something so private.
The beautiful girl’s cheeks redden from my outburst, deep crimson slashes hiding the small freckles that dot her tiny nose.
“Sorry. I just… I think you’re sitting in my seat.” Her soft voice wavers, as if she’s about to cry. She starts chewing on her thumbnail nervously, staring at her shoes so she doesn’t have to look at me.
What a knob head I am, shouting at some random girl. I don’t say anything as I grab my backpack and stand up. Hesitant, I look around the room, unsure where I’m supposed to go. I always sit behind Owens and his manky brown hair.
“Mr. Reynolds, you’re behind Miss Palmer now.” Mr. Graham, the first period teacher, walks over with his clipboard and gestures to the seat behind the new girl. “Sharma, move back one,” he says to Prescott, an Indian kid who sits behind me.
Great. I trade nods with Prescott and slump into the newly vacated chair, stuck staring at the back of the new girl’s head. Her long golden hair brushes against the edge of my desk whenever she fidgets, which is often.
“Hello gorgeous.”
Ugh! I cringe at the sound of Callum Murray’s obnoxious voice. Sliding my eyes over to him, I watch as he leans out of his chair and across the aisle towards the new girl, a disgusting leer on his face. “I’m Callum, and you’re not from around here.”
It takes a lot to keep my expression neutral and not show how furious his words make me, even though I’m an expert at controlling my features to hide my emotions.
No shit she’s not from around here stupid, besides looking high class and polished, her accent is all public school proper and zero East End cockney.
“No, I’m not. I’m Ellie. Ellie Palmer.” She turns to face Callum and her hair swishes over my desk again, sending a wave of vanilla shampoo my way. The scent hits me hard, luscious and sweet, which makes my dick twitch in my jeans.
Jesus, I’m such a bastard. Getting a stiffy for the new girl right after almost making her cry.
Despite my best intentions to not be an arsehole, I’m dreaming up the many different ways to charm my way into Ellie’s knickers when I hear Callum speak again. “Well, I’d love to show you around. What’s your next subject? I can walk you there.”
He gives her a lecherous smile that makes me want to bash his teeth in with my history book. I’ve heard about his ‘walks’ and I know damn well that his idea of showing her around is to corner her somewhere alone and force her into things she might not be willing to do. Unfortunately, Ellie doesn’t. The girls are always too afraid to call the authorities, so he gets away with it time and time again.
Studying her profile, I watch as her face reddens again and she gives that bastard Murray a smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Ellie turns back to the front of the room and focuses on our teacher, bringing another soft gust of vanilla my way. She’s so focused in fact, that she doesn’t notice when Callum’s prick of a best mate, Ryan Mason, gives him a knowing look and smirks. It’s the kind of look that lets me know Ellie Palmer is in way over her head.
Chapter 2
Ellie
My new school hasn’t been as completely awful as I thought it would be. Moving suddenly from our nice flat in Shepherd’s Bush to our shabby council flat in the East End was traumatic, but when dad lost his job in construction management and our money ran out, we had no choice. Hackney is scary, full of crime, graffiti, and abandoned buildings that are rife with shadowy figures. I spent the entire summer hiding in our dark and dismal new home for fear of getting jumped.
A nice boy in first period, Callum, showed me around the school and introduced me to his mates at lunch and I met a girl named Kate in one of my classes who seems alright. The only embarrassing thing that’s happened to me so far today is when I found someone sitting in my seat and complimented his drawing. He acted like I was completely mental and couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
I noticed him in several of my other classes as well, and how could I not? It seems all the other girls were noticing him too. They’re always surrounding him and vying for his attention, practically begging him to choose them, not that he pays them any bother. He probably gets his pick of them, he’s tall and gorgeous, with inky black hair and hazel eyes, and he makes my pulse race just from being in his vicinity. The gossip I accidentally overheard lets me know that he gets around, and never with the same girl twice. Figures.
Oddly, it seemed as if every time I glanced in his direction, I got the impression that he had just been staring at me, even though I never once caught him doing it. I’m sure I’m just imagining things. The hot guy that can’t be tamed sneaking looks at me… yeah, right.
The last bell finally rings, and I got through the day in one piece. Tired, I gather my books, sling my bag on my shoulder, and head out into the hall.
“Ellie, I can walk you home.” Surprised, I whip around and see Callum leaning against the wall outside my final class, eyeing me thoughtfully.
How did he know where I’d be?
Unnerved by his presence, I feel the familiar rush of blood in my neck and cheeks and focus on my winter boots so he won’t notice how red I am. “Okay,” I mutter, just loud enough for him to hear me. Callum begins to walk, so I follow, and we head out into the bright January sun.
“So, where’s your place?” He taps a pack and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it by cupping his hand around the lighter to deter the cold wind.
I squint in the bright sun, wrinkling my nose at the smell of the cigarette, and zip up my overcoat when another blast of icy air hits me. “Off Well Street.”