I park my car in a decent spot, which is surprising since the first bell already rang. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that time doesn't stop for anyone.
I reach for my iPhone off of the passenger seat and plug in my headphones. Nothing like some Secondhand Serenade to calm my first day jitters. I blast "Fall For You" to tune out the world around me before slamming my door shut. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself as I head towards the big brick building.
As I start walking, the weather changes. Water starts falling, landing on my face in little droplets. It wasn't supposed to rain today. I bring my backpack up over my shoulders to cover my head from the drizzle. Luckily, the walk-turned-run is short, so I make it through the doors before I'm too drenched.
I get into class only seconds after the last bell rings. Perfect timing. I quickly glance around the room, searching for an open seat, and settle into a desk near the windows. The rest of this aisle is nearly empty, so I can chill by myself over here.
The teacher introduces himself as Mr. Winters. I've seen him around school before. As I'm half listening to his lecture, I notice his name fits him well. He's an older man: fifty-five give or take a few years. He has white hair and gray eyes. They remind me of snow and dark clouds, which pretty much equals winter.
It's crazy how some people's names end up fitting them. It's like Junior. Last year he put these huge gauges in his ear. At first, I thought they looked awful and told him I would rip them out. Of course, he never did listen to me. Now when I see those huge rings in his ear, they fit. I don't think he'd be Junior without them.
Anyway, my name is beyond stupid. My mother named me Eurydice. My dad was furious. I guess he wanted to name me Morgan, which makes sense because it's a completely normal name. My mom agreed to Morgan, but then changed her mind at the last second. Since she gave birth to me, she claimed it was her choice, so my dad was overruled.
Whenever I ask my dad why she changed her mind, he just tells me, "Your mom told me it felt right. She said you had to be named that." Well, thanks for ruining my name, Mom.
When I first went to school nobody could pronounce Eurydice. Hell, I could barely spell the damn name myself. When I was about thirteen, I tried to figure out a nickname. I thought of hundreds. Dee, Die, E, but none fit me right. I wanted something cool. I played with the letters in my name and came up with Ryder.
Ryder sounds much stronger than Eurydice and almost badass. Becca liked it too, back when I cared what she thought. She told everyone Ryder was my real name. The name stuck and when I got to high school, no one knew the difference.
Mr. Winters drags on for what seems like days on end. It's the usual first day of the year stuff. Introductions, then syllabus, then homework, then handing out books and then finally reading assignments. I can tell already this day will be the death of me.
The bell finally rings and I jump from my seat, excited to talk to Junior next period. Mr. Winters gave us a monstrous book, though, and if I don't drop it off now, I'll be walking with a hunch for the next week. After ten steps, my back is already screaming at me to stop.
My locker couldn't be farther away from all of my classes. I take mostly math classes, near the science labs. I don't take music or art classes, which are located by the auditorium, where my locker happens to be located. I've applied all three years for a new locker, but—let's be real—the teachers don't give a crap.
I'm jogging to my locker when I run straight into what feels like a wall. The thing just popped up out of nowhere. Letting out a gasp of air, I groan from the pain shooting up my face. After touching my nose, I peek at my fingers, surprised to see that I'm not bleeding. Whatever I hit felt like pure concrete.
When I look up, there is no wall at all. Only a tall guy standing right in front of me. I hide my face in embarrassment before I get a good view of him, shuffling towards my locker with my head pointed down.
"Are you okay?" he asks me in a deep, sultry voice that sends goosebumps up my arms. I want to get a look at him to match it to his face, but refrain.
"I'm good," I dismissively murmur, pushing past him. I'm still in a rush, so I open my locker to quickly drop my book off, wanting this guy to go away.
"Are you sure you're okay? You hit me pretty hard." He continues to pursue me, following me to my locker. My invisibility plan has gone down the tubes.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just in a rush," I rudely remark. I don't even know who this guy is. From a quick peek, I can tell that he isn't someone I recognize.
When I finally look up, I see the most beautiful guy. I use the word guy because he doesn't seem like a boy, but more of a man. He's wearing a backpack so I assume he's a student, not a teacher. He must be an exchange student, because seventeen-year-olds don't look like him.
The first thing I notice is his amazing height. He's at least six feet tall, probably more. I'm only five-four, so when I stare at him, I literally have to crane my neck up. He's not skinny. He definitely works out—a lot. It must be why I mistook him for a wall. I fight back this unwanted urge to run my hands up and down his chest and wrap them around to his tight back muscles.
When I look up at his face, I realize that I don't mind the awkward head tilt up at all. He has the most beautiful face that I've ever seen. He has dirty blond hair that flips at the end. His blue eyes are like baby blue, but more piercing. They remind me of the ocean in Alaska—transparent and icy. He's amazingly handsome and definitely nobody from this school. I mentally confirm my exchange student idea.
"Hello?" he asks me, while waving his hand in front of my face. Damn it, even his hand is sexy. He has crazy long fingers that I can picture gliding through my hair. I shake my head, trying to get those alarming thoughts out, and my eyes focus again on his smiling face.
"Sorry, what?" I ask him, averting my gaze to the floor as I try to busy myself in my locker.
"I asked if you needed help to class. The bell just rang." He raises his eyebrows, questioning me. His head does a little quirk to the side, emphasizing the question. His voice is still friendly, but has a weirdly sharp edge to it. I think he is tired of talking to me, and my inability to form a complete sentence.
"What? It rang? Dang!" I slam my locker shut as I register his words. The sound reverberates off the low ceiling, making me cover my ears. I could swear the noise was way too loud to just be my locker.
As I turn to leave, I notice the guy still standing in the same spot, watching me. I run in the direction of class and shout back to him, "Thanks! Sorry for hitting you." I turn to go, but can't tear my eyes away from his. My feet are frozen in place, leaving me confused.
He nods in my direction, then turns, walking towards the auditorium. As his silhouette leaves my vision, I start snapping out of it. Who is this guy?
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