Alright, so, I'm a dork, and I'm so excited for this story that I'm getting right onto this next chapter. For those who are curious about my LOTR story (or who are becoming impatient for my next chapter) I'm going to be posting the next chapter for that story after this, and it's going to be like that pattern. Believe me, I'm definitely not going to lose focus from that story. So, yes, onto this chapter.

I didn't look up when the boy sat beside me, nor when I could easily feel his sharp eyes on my face. My baseball cap was pulled down so that it covered my eyes and my nose, thank God, so I was sure he could not see the rest of my face. My grip on my pen tightened as I realized his presence more and more, and chills were running up and down my spine as each moment passed. I was close to glancing at him when a voice from the front of the room caused me to force my eyes in its direction.

"Excuse me, you, in the back with the hat!" came a cool, stern voice, and, as I looked up, I realized it was the teacher's voice. Mr. Anderson, I realized, as I glanced down at my schedule, was an older teacher, probably in his mid-50s. His graying hair was thinning as well, and that must have been a reason for his bad mood. He glared at me, and continued, "I'm afraid hats are not allowed in this classroom, so I suggest you take it off."

I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment, and, never looking up from my notebook, pulled the cap off and threw it on my bag. I took my hair out of its ponytail, and ran my fingers through it; it could at least be used as a curtain to keep me from looking at the boy sitting next to me. I didn't look up again, hoping that Mr. Anderson would ignore me once more. Fortunately for me, he did.

He went through the attendance sheet slowly, and stopped when he came to my name. Looking up at me, a sarcastic smirk came on his face as he said in a deliberately slow voice, "Evelyn Wilkes." I winced at the use of my full name--I always thought it sounded like an old lady's name; without looking up, I raised my hand, unsure of how to respond. I hadn't exactly been listening to my classmates; I was too busy thinking about the silent boy sitting next to me. "So you are the new student. Tell me, Miss Wilkes, do you go by Evelyn or another name?"

I winced at the sound once more, and forced my green eyes to stare right back up at him. I was getting fed up with this stupid game he was playing. "It's Evie," I said to him coldly, my eyes glaring into his. "Thanks for asking." I couldn't stop the sarcastic tone inching into my voice, and I heard a couple of people snickering in the classroom--including the boy that was sitting next to me. Mr. Anderson, however, was not so amused. A frown was upon his face, but he did not say anything, just went to his attendance.

As soon as he was finished, he told us to work with the people sitting next to us about last night's reading. I stared up at him with a blank look on my face until he finally remembered that I needed a book, not to mention to know what we were reading. I was relieved when he gave me a book called Wuthering Heights, which just happened to be my favorite book all time. I had read it several times, and would know just about everything about it. And then, I remembered I had to work with the boy next to me. Oh boy.

Glancing over at him, I found that his eyes were filled with an amused light, obviously because of the nervous expression on my face. I was shifting uncomfortably in my chair, and waited for him to say something. He didn't.

Sighing, I said, "How far are you guys in the book?" That seemed like a simple enough question, even though it left me feeling awkward inside.

"I don't know," said the boy, making me look up into his eyes with an disbelief in my eyes. "I haven't read any of it." I frowned at him, and shook my head. Oh, yes, I knew just who he was. He was one of those stupid boys who were more obsessed with sports or video games or whatever he was into, instead of his studies. And, if we were partners--which we probably were going to be, I thought, as I looked around the room--I was going to be doing all the work, if I wanted a good grade. Great.

"Well, some help you are," I said, rolling my eyes in annoyance and turning away from him. He seemed shocked that I acted that way towards him--what, was I supposed to worship him like all the girls probably did. Even at that moment, I saw several girl's eyes sneaking towards his eyes, even though he was showing no interest in them. He seemed to be in more disbelief that I snubbed him. "You could at least go on Spark Notes and look it up. But, I guess that would make you get off your ass and do something, right?" I watched him with a cold look in my eyes.

Okay, so maybe I was a little harsh on him--it wasn't his fault I was having a lot of issues in my life. But, really, is it too much to ask for a little effort to do his work? The way he said he hadn't read--with so much arrogance--made me sick to my stomach, and I had always hated boys like that. He apparently thought that I was way too harsh on him--however, before he could say anything, Mr. Anderson's voice cut him off, and we were both forced to look up at him. For the rest of the class period, we simply discussed the book, with the boy sitting next to me seemingly getting angrier and angrier, and me continuing to doodle on my notebook.

When the bell rang, I tried to slip past him, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me. I turned at full force--this kid was way too strong--and accidentally bumped into his chest. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt me--his hands were very hot, making me stare up at him in concern for just a second. Did he have a fever or something? "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right--"

I cut him off. "Forget it, alright? I'm sorry I snapped at you, whoever you are. It was an accident--you don't have to make a damn scene about the whole thing. Just, forget it, okay?" I gazed up into his endless blue eyes, and waited until he finally released my arm. I could feel his hand still on my arm as I began to walk away from him. I couldn't believe that I had just apologized to him--I've never been one for admitting I was wrong, and I had done it just like that? I should have gone checked myself out, just to make sure I wasn't sick.

I was halfway across the room when he called out, "I'm Paul, by the way." I turned to him, gave him a small smile, and turned away. That had to be the weirdest conversation I'd ever had.


"So, I see you've caught the attention of Paul Wesley."

It was lunch, five periods after my first period, and I was sitting by myself outside; the picnic table that I had chosen was distanced from the rest of the other kids at my school, which was exactly why I chose it. One of my earbuds was in, while my other ear was free so I could hear the people talking near me. It was, for the first time since I'd been in Washington, sunny and warm, and I was simply basking in all of the sunlight—I was sure that I would not be able to see the sun for a long time.

My previous five classes had been alright—I'd had Chemistry, Pre-Calculus, Gym, Economics, and then an art class after English, and none of them were all that eventful. I'd kept my head down the whole entire time, avoiding any sort of contact. I was sure I would have heard it from my mother if she found out about my anti-social attitude that day—she always was embarassed by the fact that I liked being by myself most of the time. No one had tried to talk to me, until lunch.

The girl was of average height, and had a mass of curly, black hair surrounding her face. She was pretty, with shining dark eyes and high cheekbones—I could tell that she was well-liked by many of the males, as several of the boys surrounding my table were checking her out. I internally rolled my eyes at them, and turned to the girl. "Who?" I asked her blankly, pulling my other earbud out and sitting up from the bench.

"Paul Wesley," said the girl, her voice filling with annoyance. As if I should know who that was. It was then that I remembered the boy that had sat next to me in English. Oh, I thought, I guess that's whose she's talking about. Just as I was about to say something to her, she cut me off. "He's really hot—dark hair, blue eyes, really big. He's sitting right over there." She pointed at a table near mine—there he was, sitting with a bunch of other guys, laughing about something stupid. As soon as I looked over there, he turned his eyes on me, and I frowned at him before turning back to the girl.

"He sat next to me in English—so what? Hasn't a boy sat next to you before?" I asked her coolly, before turning my eyes to my iPod. Yeah, I thought, I'm sure she's done far more with a boy. I could see it easily now—she was giving me a superior look, as if wanting to inform me that Paul was off-limits. As if I really cared either way. "Why do you care anyways?"

The girl scoffed irritably, and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's because I'm trying to go out with him, and I want to make it clear to you that he's off the market. So don't try going after him, because he's mine," she finished, pointing at herself. She had a slight crazed look in her eyes, and I raised my eyebrows at her. Lowering her voice, she said quietly, "I've heard the rumors about you—the reason you came here is because you slept around too much, and your daddy got sick of it."

I couldn't help it—I laughed straight in her face, and stood up. I was a few inches shorter than her, but I didn't care. There was no way that I was going to let this little bitch talk to me like this, as if she knew everything about me. "I suggest you get your facts—and your head—straight; and, by the way, I'm not going anywhere near your little boyfriend. He's all yours."

I was simply going to walk off, since I was sure the bell would ring soon, when she had call out to me, "Bitch!" I froze. I was just standing in front of the door to the cafeteria, and I was staring at the glass, watching her reflection—she had a smug look on her face, like she had just won a contest. I chuckled lowly, and turned back to her. I took several measured steps to her, and was this close to slamming my fist into her pretty face when a hand came up from behind me and caught my wrist.

I turned and stared up into a familiar blue eyes, which was looking down at me without any expression. "Come with me," he said quietly, and his grip on my wrist was just as firm as it was when he had grabbed my arm. He pulled me through the cafeteria, as I was struggling to keep up with his long strides, my bag banging onto my leg painfully. Just as we were outside of the cafeteria and inside the empty hallway, Paul let go of my wrist. "You shouldn't try to pick a fight with Scarlett—she has a lot of connections in this school, and you would be in a lot of deep shit if something happened to her," he told me, leaning against the locker and watching me quizzically.

I frowned up at him, sitting down on the floor on the other side of the hallway. "I wasn't doing anything to her—she's the one who was stupid enough to call me a bitch," I snapped at him, as I fiddled with the cord to my earbuds. The look in his eyes made me feel uncomfortable, and I wasn't sure if it was a pleasant feeling or not. "You didn't have to stop me—I could handle it if she ran off and told on me. I'm a big girl," I added, finally looking up at him. I cursed myself as soon as I did—his eyes—not to mention everything about him—were just too much to handle.

"I'm sure you could easily handle her," said Paul, laughing quietly. I frowned at his tone—it was if he was talking to a small child. However, before I could tell him to wipe that smirk off his face, he asked, "Why did you want to hit her, anyway? You don't seem like the type of girl who would easily get in a fight."

I glared at him, knowing that he was taking some kind of shot at my height—which was far from impressive—and said coolly, "She called me a bitch, and told me that I had to stay away from you." I smiled to myself, and told him, "You better watch out. I guess you are the guy she wants to date. Good luck with that." I couldn't stop the grin that came to my face, especially after he groaned in annoyane. "What, you don't want to have a psycho for a girlfriend? I think you two would make quite a couple."

The look on his face made the grin slowly fade from my face—it was smoldering, intense look that I had never seen before, not even in those trashy romance movies that my best friend always tried to make me watch. It caused goosebumps to break out on my arms, and I shivered against my will. "I'm afraid I have another girl I'm interested in," he said softly, and I crossed my arms across my chest, hoping to feel more comfortable. It didn't work.

Before I could respond to him—or even think of a response to what he had just said—the bell rang, and he helped me up, the intense look wiped clean from his face. He smiled gently down at me, and I returned it. "I'll see you later," he said quietly, and he was gone, just like that. That boy was going to get me in trouble, I thought to myself, and shook my head, before heading to my last class.

At least the day was interesting.

And there we go—the next chapter will be up in a couple of days, I promise. Don't forget to review! Oh, and, thanks to all those who made reviews. Here's my responses to all of them:

Gryffindor Gurl2: Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Foofer: Hehe, I love all of the Paul/OC stories too. He's probably my second favorite character in Twilight, besides Jacob, of course. I'll work on making them much longer. Believe me, I always hate seeing short chapters, they're really annoying.

DestinyIntertwined: I'm glad you loved it! I hope this update was soon enough for you! xD

Europ92: Haha, those are some sweet skills. xD Thanks for the compliments, and I couldn't agree with you more—there are some seriously badly-written stories out there. And, I guess I chose blue eyes because I wanted to make Paul a bit more unique compared to the rest of the guys on the Reservation—and I happen to have a fascination with guys with dark hair and light eyes. Hehe.