I go still when I notice the tall blonde staring at me. Her blue eyes are wide with surprise and an instant smile crests my lips.

She’s kind of pretty.

I don’t recognize her at all. Is she like a foreign exchange student or something?

“Hi.” I raise my chin in a standard ‘sup?’ greeting.

She swallows and shoves her hands into her jacket pockets. She’s wearing a cool olive-green bomber jacket. I like her style. She doesn’t scream beauty queen at all. She’s makeup free, and her hair is scrunched into an uneven messy knot at the back of her head. The only jewelry I can see is two silver studs in each ear.

But she doesn’t need more than that.

She’s tall and elegant in this sporty kind of way. Her features are striking, sending off this Scandinavian vibe.

“How’s it going?”

She nods, then licks her lips, inching away from my guitar.

I’m supposed to be in homeroom right now, but Mrs. Kesley let me out so I could deliver something to my dad. He’s the music teacher at Armitage High and thankfully everybody loves him. It makes my life easier.

I was just heading back, planning on taking a shortcut from Dad’s room through the studio he created for us—the guy gave up his office/storage room so we could have a place to practice at school.

But I’ve been stopped by this girl, who was eyeing my guitar like it was a diamond-studded tiara. I’m usually kind of precious about who touches my baby, but the look on her face was magical. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt my red Stratocaster.

“You play?” I point to the instrument my parents gave me for Christmas three years ago.

She glances down at it and quickly shakes her head like I’ve just busted her trying to steal it.

“No. No, I don’t play. Um…” She starts backing away and ends up thumping into the edge of the doorframe.

She jolts and lets out an embarrassed laugh before scratching her forehead and looking to the floor.

My eyebrows crinkle. Man, she’s pretty flustered.

Was she trying to steal it?

I tense, wondering why the hallway door isn’t locked. The band came in through the music suite this morning. That door shouldn’t even be open. I’ll have to talk to the guys about it. Make sure we always lock the door behind us if we go out that way.

We’ve been having a problem with stuff getting stolen this year, but surely it can’t be this chick, can it?

Her jacket rustles as she shrugs. “I’m just…in the wrong area. It’s my first day, and…uh…”

First day. Cool. She’s definitely an innocent, then.

“Are you doing some kind of exchange or something?”

“Huh?” She frowns at me. “No, I’ve just moved here from Ohio.”

“Nice.” I give her a confident smile and start spinning the Celtic ring on my index finger. “So, are you lost? I mean, can I help you find your way somewhere?”

Her mouth pops open and once again I’m wondering what I’ve said to make her so uneasy. Is my tone off? Am I not coming across as friendly?

I raise my eyebrows, leaning forward as I await her response.

“Um, no. I’m good.” She flashes me a closed-mouth smile. “I’m… I should…” She points over her shoulder, and then her eyes bug out as she spots something behind me. “I should go.”

I turn to see Dad opening the door before spinning back in time to watch the mystery girl bolt from the room. “Wait, I…”

My shoulders slump with a sigh and I don’t even understand why I’m disappointed. That chick was weird, but…intriguing.

I really want to know what was making her so flustered.

I mean, I guess girls can sometimes be a little skittish around me. I actually hate it, because it’s really awkward. They either get giggly and don’t know what to say…or they try to paw me.

So I have long hair and I play a guitar. So I’m the lead singer of Velocity. That doesn’t make me any more special than the overweight guy I sit next to in Comparative Lit.

“Who was that?” Dad’s been living in the States so long his Scottish accent is pretty mild. He moved here before I was born and told me that he learned to temper his words pretty quickly so people could actually understand what he was saying.

Now it’s this weird kind of Scottish-American blend.

I wish he’d just relax and unleash the Scotsman. When we go back to visit, it really comes out and it always makes me smile.

I stick out my lower lip, still staring at the door the mystery girl bolted through.

“Not sure.” I shrug, sliding my hands into my tattered jean pockets. “New girl, she said.”

“What was she doing down here?”

“I think she was lost.”

“You should have offered to show her around.” Dad’s face flickers with a frown.

“I did.” I point at the door. “She was jittery and nervous. The second she saw you, she just took off like you were the devil…or maybe a Yeti…or Bigfoot…or one of those really disgusting trolls from Lord of the Rings. You know, the ones with the—”

“Shut it, you.” Dad snorts, tucking a thick black curl behind his ear. “I don’t think I’m the scary one.”

“Come on.” I give him a sly smile. “It’s not like it’s gonna be me. I’m not scary-looking.”

“No, but you’re so beautiful. Some girls can’t handle it.”

I roll my eyes at his mocking tone and he starts to chortle.

“You’re not funny, in case you’re wondering.”

“Oh, but I am. And I’m cool,” he says. “I’m married to the sexiest woman on the planet, which makes me a king, lad. And you’re my prince charming.”

“Shut up.” I snicker, reaching for my guitar.

“Don’t even think about playing that.” Dad points at me. “You should be back in class by now. Mrs. Kesley will have my head if I give you any special treatment. Off you go. Try not to make any girls swoon along the way.”

“You really think you’re on form today, don’t you?” I glare at him.

“Oh, I know I am, Don Juan.” He gives me a cheeky grin before laughing and grabbing a file of music off the shelf.

I growl in my throat and pull the door open. Dad and I have been bantering since I was old enough to start getting his jokes. I usually don’t mind, but the whole me being beautiful thing is wearing thin.

I’m not complaining about my looks. I love the color of my skin and that my parents are a mixed-race couple. I love my style, and I usually don’t care what other people think about me…unless it makes them so tongue-tied that they can’t even talk.

Surely that chick wasn’t lost for words because of me.

But I don’t think she was stealing my guitar either. Although she was looking at it like it was the most precious thing she’d ever seen.

Man, that spark of longing on her face was something else.

But she said she doesn’t play.

I saunter down the empty hall, my mind buzzing with questions as I try to figure out the new girl and wonder if I can somehow find a way to talk to her again…without sending the gossip train speeding from the station.

Cairo Hale scores himself another girlfriend!

I can see the headlines already.

Groan.

I really hate how small this school is sometimes.