Hi guys, sorry this chapter is so short and it took me so long to update, but I swear I'll try harder to write faser next time. Secondly, I would like to thank kaci12, Guest, and . Enemy. 172 for reviewing, and kaci12, inmortalrose10, bookworm23821, VampireDiariesLuver, and EaglesFlyingFree for making my story a favorite. I would never be where I am now without you guys, so keep the love coming!

The whole lunchroom went deathly silent.

Internally, I wished I could just disappear, for something to break this conscious nightmare. Where's a fiery meteor when you need one?

No matter how hard I prayed or dreamed up escape plans, the clenching of my gut told me I us just going to have to the navigate through the storm. Breaking away from my reverie, I did the typical thing: repeatedly apologized and mumbled unintelligible phrases, while I attempted to wipe up the stain with some spare napkins. Much to dismay, they appeared to only be making the mess worse the more I scrubbed. To prevent further staining, I hastily reached for some cold water. Naturally, I stumbled over my own two feet.

Fortunately, before I could come into contact with the pavement, a strong pair of arms locked around my waist and steadied me. A gasp escaped my lips as I found myself gazing up into the deep blue eyes of Jesse Tuck, two deep pools in which I felt I could never touch the bottom. I weakly muttered, "I'm sorry."

Jesse nodded and released his grip. "It's okay, I didn't like this shirt anyway," he reassured me with a smile, strained and fake like a cheap piece of plastic. Unease prickled under my skin as his eyes analyzed me, his expression undecipherable.

Jesse was much more handsome up close and personal. Although he had a slender build, he was muscular with his abdominal muscles taut beneath his white t-shirt, and his biceps bulged beneath his sleeves. His dark wavy hair framed his sculpted face, but there was also some entrancing boyishness to his appearance in the roundness of his face, the subtle plumpness of his cheeks.

Jesse cleared his throat awkwardly. My cheeks flared crimson as I realized in mortification that I had been staring. It was already bad enough he had heard me gossiping about his love life.

"I'll pay for your shirt," I offered instinctively, rummaging through my bag for my wallet.

Jesse grimaced as I stepped forward with the crumpled wad of bills in hand. Hesitantly, he took a step back. "Really, don't worry about it. I'll see you around."

As he spun on his heel and bolted out of the cafeteria, I mumbled under my breath, "By the way it's Emily, and it's a pleasure to meet you, too."

I didn't make eye contact with anyone the rest of the day. Head down, eyes glued to the linoleum floor, this is how I staggered through the last few periods. Luckily, I only had one class with Jesse, whom I kept a great distance from, and avoided any deep-dish casseroles. His feelings also appeared mutual, as he made no attempt to strike up a conversation, for which I was grateful. I wasn't sure how much more my fragile dignity could withstand.

Yet as I attempted to pay attention during the history teacher Mr. Edgar's lecture, I found my gaze kept wandering to the other side of the room where a pair of deep blue eyes was fixated ahead. Quickly, I would snap back to attention, and focus on the dull monotone of Mr. Edgar. Nonetheless, every now and then I would sneak a quick glance over my shoulder.

When the dismissal bell rang, I am pretty certain I was the first out the heavy metal doors at three o' clock. A gentle breeze had picked up, and the sun's beating rays were soothing and warming among the placid environment of the sunny California afternoon. Inhaling a lungful of the fragrant air, I felt euphoric at the end of the school day. Although, I had to admit, it didn't go half as bad as I expected it to be. Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. But, I reassured myself, this was high school I was referring to.

Safe until Tuesday, I jumped upon my bike and pedaled out of the parking lot. Though school hours may have been over, I still had my afternoon shift down at Rocking Rhythms. The community of Treegap was tranquil in the light of the afternoon recreation hours. Several elementary-school age children ran around the playground at the park, while dogs of all sizes barked at me behind picket fences as I rode past.

I was completely at ease as I parked my bike at the curb of Rocking Rhythms. Overhead, the bell chimed above the door as I pushed it open. As expected, the store was a complete ghost town when I walked in.

From behind a shelf of vinyl records, Mr. Quinn emerged, smiling and covered from head to toe in a fine layer of lint. "Good afternoon, Emily," he rumbled in his deep, husky voice. He took my hand in his large, calloused one and shook it rigorously.

"You too, Mr. Quinn," I replied politely.

Chortling, he insisted, "Please, call me Michael."

"Okay, Mr. Qui – I mean Michael, sir."

The evening passed quickly with only one visit from a usual customer named Dolores, who always showed up before closing time, with a basketful of homemade goodies and some sugar for Mr. Quinn. Although they weren't official, Mr. Quinn and Dolores had been harboring affectionate feelings toward each other for quite a long time – seven years, according to Dolores. Their anniversary had been in June.

With a cinnamon bun made from scratch in one hand, I locked up the darkened store, before shuffling to my bike. But just as I gripped the handle bars, an explosion at my feet, followed by a deafening boom and vibrant neon colors whirling before my eyes, forced me to the ground.