Accent: Angie

I pick a quiet spot to eat my lunch. I don't want to be bothered by anyone. New videos of my fight are going around school, but I don't mind. I prefer this video to my notorious one.

It's the phony people who make me want to be alone, not the video. Suddenly they want to talk to me again, because I messed up Victoria pretty bad. I'd be flattered if these same people hadn't called me a slut weeks before.

I rip open a packet of hot sauce with my teeth, pouring it onto my pizza. I'm opening my ranch when a tall guy joins me on the steps.

He's eyeing my lunch with concern, and I'm looking at him like he's lost. He has to be a senior. His style is a black leather jacket, stubble, and slicked back hair as dark as ink.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

He chews on his gum, sending the smell of mint my way. "I can't believe you're going to eat that."

His voice is the same one from the party! Thick and British from the sound of it.

"Love, you'll kill yourself that way." His eyes are pale blue like mine, but seemingly full of life.

"It's good, actually. And you are?"

"Apologies, my name's Thomas."

"I'm Angie."

"Angie?" He nods in approval. "You've got some right hook, Angie. Would hate to get into a dust-up with you."

I scratch my arm. "I'm not always starting fights." I don't know why, but I'm embarrassed that he saw me that way.

"I know why you did it. People actually believe that bloke." He sighs, rubbing his rough hands back and forth.

I freeze up. I wasn't expecting that. When he sees that I'm at a loss for words, he keeps talking.

"Look. We can meet at the mall, or a place that's chock-a-block." He pulls out his phone and flashes me the contact screen.

I tell him my number and he saves it, adding some fist emojis. He smiles when he sees that I've taken notice.

"I'm not a fighter," I say, trying to get that image out of his head.

"Yes you are." His tone is serious.

My heart skips a beat.

He stands, brushing off his jeans. "We'll speak soon. Enjoy your nosh." And with that, he jogs down the steps.

My pizza is cold and soggy from the sauce. I eat it anyway. My mind is flooded with anything but the taste of my food.

I'm sick just thinking about our meeting up, but if he meant what I think he did, I have no choice.

I need to know.