Chapter 1

Who?

I was at school.

I was at school on a Saturday.

I shoved the mop I had just been cleaning the floor with into the soapy contents of the bucket next to me.

Why was I at school on a Saturday? Because of my loud mouthed friend, Chriss.

Don't write on the floor, I told him. You'll get expelled or worse. But, oh, no, he writes on the floor anyway; getting me in trouble for trying to save his school reputation.

I should've known that if I told him not to write anything dirty on the floor, he'd forge my signature onto it. I should've known he wouldn't have listened to me anyway. Did I remember earlier disagreements? No. Did I even think before I acted? Of course not.

Now my school reputation was probably going to be terrible. As if I hadn't gotten into enough trouble as it is, Chriss goes and gets me expelled, and makes me take the long hours of cleaning up his mess. Even though I am the one who chooses to hang out with him, even though I am the one who decides to have friends like Chriss, and I am the one who enjoys the feeling of getting caught at any minute, I do have some sense of when to stop.

I sighed loudly, kicking the bucket I'd just shoved the mop into. The contents slopped out the other side and back again, the floor now covered in the soapy water.

Sure, I should've foreseen Chriss writing my name on the floor, but what I wouldn't have expected was that he'd write it in huge lettering. The writing stretched across the full length hallway, spelling out my terrible signature of, "Anyssa Ann Prowl". The damn thing was 14 yards across!

I left the bucket and mop where it was, and walked to the Janitors' Closet to get a "Wet Floor" sign; walking straight down the hallway so I can pin the footprints on Chriss for payback.

I opened up the Janitors' Closet and slammed it closed the second I got the sign, pissed that I had to deal with this. You can understand why I was startled so badly when there was a guy not a few feet away from me. I mean, I would've been fine if I'd actually seen and heard him walk in. Plus the fact I had the school doors locked, and it was 7 PM.

"The school is closed on Saturdays," I immediately stated, "I don't know how the hell you got in here, 'cause I locked the doors, but you need to get out." I took a step backwards, then turned and started walking towards the mess of water. I figured he'd just leave, he couldn't have been any older than 17; the same age as Chriss was. That was only 1 year older than me. The downer was that he was 6 inches taller, but I had yet to meet someone who was stronger than I was. He probably was trying to get away from the rain, and just his luck he had something sharp in his pocket to pick the lock.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was a little one, but I still felt it. Now I hoped the sharp object was something like a toothpick. But, if it came to any physical stuff, I'd bet I could take him. He wouldn't even be able to move me if I didn't want to be moved.

I was completely off.

I felt a hand -- obviously his -- grab me by the back of my shirt and yank me back. My legs left the ground with the force he pulled me at, and it took me a couple of seconds to regain my footing on the floor. Once I did I spun around, automatically grabbing the knife in my pocket. I pulled it out, and his hand retreated from my shirt. He held up his hands, showing me he wasn't going to hurt me. I held the knife up so it was pointing at him, and I made a big show of it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that. I just--" he had started; then he saw me lifting the knife up. He acted like he'd never cut off, "I just… Um, I wanted to ask what you were doing here, I mean, since you said school is closed now."

I noticed how he hesitated for a second, but decided to ignore it. "Punishment. I, wrote my name down the hallway floor," I answered, emphasizing 'I'. "You should know that. Everyone was gossiping all about it. Actually, do you even go here?"

"Ah, I'm new here. I moved to Ohio from Tennessee just yesterday," he answered, "My father said something about starting a new job, and here I am." He flashed a grin, and my breath caught in my throat. His teeth were perfect. Shiny white, and perfectly straight.

Once my breath returned, my mind started thinking clearly again.

Tennessee? I thought people had accents down there. He definitely doesn't have one. There isn't even a trace. "Oh, well, welcome to our beautiful state." I bowed to him mockingly, and when I straightened his grin had gotten wider.

"Thanks for the warming welcome. I now feel like my life won't be totally ruined here." His grinned died down to a smile. "I'll be on my way now. I'm terribly sorry for bothering you."

"No trouble at all," I said, returning the smile. "Glad your life isn't going to feel hellish."

"So am I. Are you going to be around here?"

"Sadly, not for awhile. I've been suspended for 2 weeks." I noticed how his eyes seemed to darken; although it may've been me.

"Damn, I thought I'd be able to hang out with someone for my first week."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. The worst thing that could happen would probably you making a bad impression on the teachers."

His smile turned into a smirk. "Thanks for the info. I'll keep it in mind," he said, turning and walking out the doors.

I stood there for a couple of seconds, registering what happened. I just met some random guy, learned that he is extremely hot, and I don't know his name.

I turned and walked towards the soapy mess I'd left earlier, which seemed like hours ago when it was only a few minutes.

I laid the "Wet Floor" sign near the sticky mess, and kicked the bucket towards the Janitors' closet. I misjudged the distance and it rolled to a stop much farther ahead of the door. I sighed in defeat. The bucket spills, floor is sticky, and I can't even get the thing to the door. The bucket wins. Although, I wasn't really thinking about the bucket.

I walked up to the front door of my small apartment room; unlocking it and throwing myself onto the bed first thing. My arms were aching. Next time I see our school's Janitor, I'll wish him luck on whatever new project Chriss is working on.

I yawned and turned on my side. It was only 9 PM, but I was exhausted. I tried to think of things I could be doing now, like meeting Chriss and hanging out with his weird friends, or going to work.

I couldn't do anything. Chriss was out of town for the weekend; apparently seeing a "Mindless Self-Indulgence" concert. I already did my shift at Pizza Hut, and I didn't have to work until Tuesday. I didn't know any of Chriss's friends well enough to actually hang out with them, and I wasn't even hungry enough to go eat anything.

I rolled back over so I was lying on my back again. I felt totally alone.

I decided to go back to the guy I'd met. After he'd gotten close enough for me to get a good look at him, I saw his hair wasn't exactly black, but it wasn't any other color either. It had a red-ish tint to it, but other than that, I would call it black. His eyes were bright blue, which I thought was totally weird, because I'd never seen a guy with dark hair and blue eyes; unless maybe they'd dyed it. His skin was very tan, almost like mine. He was actually about 4 inches taller, but it was hard to tell. He'd been wearing a dark leather jacket, which was unzipped to reveal a dark blue shirt that made his eyes seem even brighter than I'd thought possible. He wore jeans that looked like they were 3 sizes too big, but were held up with a black belt. For his shoes, he just wore normal tennis shoes with black and white designs on them.

He seemed pretty normal. Well, except for the part where he said he was from Tennessee. There was no hint in any way or form that he had an accent. I guess that shouldn't have made me think he was weird, but I just thought he should have some sort of accent, right?

And after thinking all this, after going through exactly what he looked like to almost every detail, I felt like I'd studied him a little too close. I couldn't help it. If it'd come to a manner of fighting, and he managed to get away, I would've needed to know all the details of what he looked like to inform the police.

I felt like an idiot. The guy probably thought he'd met his new stalker.

Then it hit me like a slap in the face.

I didn't even know this guy's name! He didn't even know mine! I groaned, closing my eyes and thinking of names that would fit him. It would start with a 'D'; Dakota? Sounds girlish. Dustin? Definitely not. Daniel, Dylan, Dean… No, no, no.

A name started to form in my mind, like it was jumping up and down, yelling, "Me!" Damon? Close, but not quite. D-A-something else… Damian!

I sat right up in bed, my head taking in the data it took in. His name was Damian. It had to be.

I noticed it was dark in my apartment, and my head spun to look at the alarm clock next to my bed. It beamed, "3:48 AM", in bright blue letters. I slumped back down on my back, staring at the ceiling. I hated Sundays. Nothing to do.