After first period, I spent as little time in the hallway as humanly possible. So only the time it took for me to speed-walk to Mr. Flanagan's room.
When I got to the chemistry classroom, there was already somebody sitting down, in the seat next to the one I usually sat in. This was unusual because I was pretty much always the first in the classroom, even on the days when I dawdled.
And of course, the one person in the classroom before me had to be the beautiful blonde girl from the hallway before school. She hadn't seen me yet, so theoretically, I could've left and straggled in with the rest of the class, avoiding her, but my feet were already moving toward my usual seat, toward her.
"I'm sorry," I said when I was closer to her.
She turned towards me. Her lips were pulled into a scowl, but her eyes were light and playful.
"I'm Spencer," I said, extending a hand out to her.
"Quinn," she said, taking my hand.
It was a beautiful name, which suited her, because she was a beautiful girl.
I pulled Quinn gently towards me, connecting my lips once more with hers. I wasn't sure why I had kissed her, or why I had kissed her again, or why she had kissed me back, or why she was kissing me back now, but I didn't care. All I knew was that I liked it. Kissing Quinn felt like the most natural thing in the world, and I didn't want to stop.
When the kiss broke due to our insanely human need for oxygen, she pulled back slightly, looking at me, her eyes searching mine for some sort of answers. Answers that I wasn't even sure of.
"Why did you do that?" she asked. She didn't seem mad. Just confused. Which made sense. I mean here I was, a perfect stranger, who had just walked up to her and kissed her. Twice.
"I wanted to," I answered without thinking.
That seemed to be the pattern here. Whenever I saw her, I couldn't think. No, that wasn't true. I was thinking constantly. But there was something. This was only the second time I'd seen her, but even still, whenever she was around, I just reacted. My body just acted regardless of what I was thinking.
"Why?" Quinn asked again, "I mean for all you know I could be a stalker or a serial killer." My body involuntarily shuddered at the statement. After everything that had happened with A, and Alison and Maya's deaths, it hit close to home.
"But you're not," I said.
"How do you know?" she asked.
I shrugged, "I suppose I don't."
Her hazel eyes searched mine once more, but I averted my eyes, looking down at my feet instead.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You make me nervous," I admitted.
This was how one that knew me would know something was up. I never admitted to being nervous, yet I just had.
"You don't really think I'm a stalker, do you?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
"Then why do I make you nervous?" she asked curiously.
I looked up at her, answering her quickly and honestly, "You're really pretty."
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