“Great, I have math first period,” I gripe to myself as I weave my way down the crowded hallway toward my locker with my eyes glued to the schedule. “I hate ma—”

A shiver shoots up my spine as someone grabs me by the waist. Their palms graze the sliver of space between my shirt and shorts, and I just about lose my shit, because I know there’s no way it could be one of my kinda, sorta friends touching me like that.

“What the hell?!” I squeal, reeling around and jumping back.

Kai is standing there, wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a shirt for once—we are in school, after all. His hair is a mad mess, but in a bedhead sorta way, and he’s biting his bottom lip, struggling not to laugh at me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, shoving his shoulder.

“Clearly making a scene,” he replies, his gaze skimming the hallway.

I glance behind me and cringe. Almost half the people standing near us are gawking, probably because I squealed like a rabid beast. Great. So much for making a good first day impression and not drawing attention to myself.

Facing Kai, I lightly shove him. “Dude, you can’t just grab people like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

“When I grab most girls like that, they like it,” he says with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not most girls . . . and I’m not used to people touching me.” I fidget with a bracelet on my wrist, feeling all sorts of jittery standing here, with half the damn school gawking at me. “You feeling better?”

His brows dip. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, better than you did last night. You were a little out of it.”

His eyes widen. “I talked to you last night?”

I nod, loving how shocked I made him. “You did. You actually yelled up at my balcony just to get my attention. It was very Romeo and Juliet.” I shoot him a grin so he’ll know I’m kidding.

He crosses his arms and shifts his weights. “Did I say anything . . . I don’t know . . . weird?”

When I shrug, he narrows his eyes at me.

“Nothing too weird. Well, other than you declared your undying love for me. Oh yeah, and for zombies.” I smile when he grows even more uneasy. “Relax, you didn’t say anything weird. Although, you did invite me to come to the next party with you.”

“I did, huh?” He rubs his scruffy jawline, musing over something. “Interesting.”

Silence stretches between us, and my thoughts wander back to the people watching us.

I wanted today to go great, but I already have blisters on my heels and screamed in front of half my class. Maybe Hannah was right with what she said to me this morning. “Once a freak. Always a freak,” she sneered when she saw me all dressed up.

I shake my head. No. She’s not right. I won’t let her be.

I straighten my shoulders and prepare myself. Time to do this. Face the music. Walk in head-on. I just cross my fingers and toes that the majority of the people here have forgotten the rumor Hannah spread at the beginning of the summer, that I was being admitted to a mental institution.

“I have to figure out where all my classes are.” I wave bye to Kai. “See ya later, maybe.”

“You’ve been going here for three years, Isa. You know where all the classrooms are.” He snags ahold of my arm and hauls me toward the stairway that leads to the second floor.

I shuffle after him, noting that people are still staring at us, either because they think I’m insane or because Kai has his hand on my arm. Sure, he’s talked to me in school before, to tease me mainly, but he’s definitely never dragged me up the stairway.

He doesn’t let me go until we reach a locker toward the end of the hallway on the second floor. By the time his fingers leave my arm, my skin is tingling in the nicest way ever.

“What’s with all the touching?” I ask him as I shift the handle of my bag higher onto my shoulder.

He shrugs as he twists the combination of his locker. “You’re the one who let me do it.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I anxiously glance around the hallway, noticing people are still eyeballing us with fascination. “But you’ve never done that in the past. I mean, held onto my arm in public. Or talked to me.” I want to say so much more. Want to point out that back in the day, he wouldn’t be caught dead with me. But this doesn’t feel like the time or place to bring it up.

He opens his locker. “Actually, I have before. Or at least I tried to. But usually when I tried to drag you down the hallway to . . . what did you call it the other day?” His head tilts to the side as he smirks. “Oh, yeah, ‘to get my kicks and giggles’, you pulled away and ran away from me like I was on fire.”

I cross my arms, feeling self-conscious. “That’s because I knew you were making fun of me.”

“No, that was all in your head.” He taps his finger against my temple. “It’s all psychological, but now that you’re,” he glances up and down at me, lingering extra long on the sliver of skin peeking out of my shirt, “yeah, now you’re okay with it, because you’re more okay with yourself.”

“Is that why you brought me up here? Just to see if I’d come with you?” I ask curiously.

He smiles at me, and I playfully swat his arm.

He places a hand over his arm where I swatted him, laughing. “What’s with all the abuse?”

“Sorry, but you’re purposely trying to make me mad.” I tuck my hands into the back pocket of my shorts. “Now, if you’re done playing with my mind, I’m going to go track down my locker.”

As I turn to leave, he catches the bottom of my shirt and tows me back to him. “I didn’t just bring you up here to play with your mind,” he says. “You owe me a gift.”

“The gift. Yeah, I forgot about that.” I slide my backpack off, unzip it, and dig out the small box his gift is in, taking my time just so I’ll drive him crazy. When he reaches for the box in my hand, I tuck it behind my back. “Ask nicely.”

His eyes narrow to slits, but it’s a playful move. “Fine, Isa, can I pretty please,” he juts out his bottom lip, “with cherries and sprinkles and caramel on top, have my present?”

“I’ll give it to you, but only because of all the dessert references.” I hand over the box.

“You know, you’ve been promising you’re going to give it to me a lot lately.” His lips quirk as he opens the box and takes out the leather bracelet engraved with his name on it.

I ignore his dirty remark, but my cheeks warm. “I got it while I was in Paris. I know it’s not anything super awesome, but there was this guy on the street making them, and it made me think of you.” I flick his wrist, where he already has an array of bracelets. “I wasn’t even positive you’d still be wearing them by the time I got back, since you never used to up until . . .” I shrug, “well, you changed. I wasn’t sure if this bad boy thing of yours was going to be a phase.”

He looks up at me, his expression dead serious. “Is this hot girl thing of yours a phase?”

“It’s not a hot girl phase,” I promise him, although my tone’s a little shaky. “And no, it’s not a phase. But I do need to figure out some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know. Just stuff.”

He stares at me just long enough to make me uneasy then drops the gaze to the bracelet as he ties it to his wrist. “I like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.” But I kind of want him to. “Although, it was way better than the painting my cousin tried to talk me into getting you. You don’t seem like a painting kind of guy.”

He flicks the bracelet on his wrist. “This is way, way better than a painting.” He smiles at me, a genuine smile. “But you know what this means, right? You liiiike me.”

Biting back a smile, I shake my head. “It so does not.”

“Does too.”

“Oh, fine. Whatever.”

“Ha! I won that round.”

“Only because I let you.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I like this.” He points back and forth between the two of us. “We should do this more often.”