Chapter 3: Silver Eyes, Part 2

It took us fifteen minutes to get to Ruidoso High School. The day was sun-soaked, painting the landscape with bright golden light. Jagged outlines of green- and brown-hued mountains rested in the deep blue background, with a heavenly white spreading on the peaks, creating a beautiful contrast of colors. A gentle breeze whispering through the foliage of high trees seemed to cast a spell as it passed, waking them up so they would wave at us. Everything looked alive and full of energy, as if Mother Nature was smiling at us.

The school blended flawlessly with its surroundings, as if it was part of the scenery. And though I understood the reason behind the use of earthy colors, I didn't like the overall image it gave to the school's structure. The three buildings looked like three long boxes with windows, which reminded me of what was waiting for me back home.

"See you, Dad," I said as I climbed out of the car.

"Bye, honey," he called, and then added, "Remember the trip to the supermarché!"

"Make it a date!" I waved good bye and turned around.

"A date, huh?" Valerie's voice suddenly asked behind me.

I turned around, startled. "Oh, I-I'm just going to the supermarket with my dad."

"Wow...that's exciting," she said, the tone in her voice telling the exact opposite. "Come with Owen and me after school if you want to. It's Friday... movie night-and my turn to choose, which translates into chick flick overdose for Owen." She said with a sly, muted giggle.

I met Valerie on my first day at school. She was assigned to give me a tour of the grounds, but, surprisingly, it ended up with me giving her a tour of my life in New York. Normally, I wouldn't have opened up so fast to a stranger. It took a lot to seep through my walls. But her enthusiasm was kind of contagious, and she treated me like a longtime friend, making it really easy to talk to her. So the rest came naturally.

Owen, her boyfriend, was incredibly fun and nice, too. They were one of those couples who looked perfect together, meant for each other, like those dreamy people on a Hallmark card.

"I really have to go-maybe some other time," I told her with a smile.

"Okay," she agreed, flipping her brown hair to the side, her highlights a golden glow under the sun. "Talking about excitement. Remember the guy I told you the other day?"

"The gorgeous guy?"

"Yep, that one," she said with a cheery nod. "I can tell you're excited. Your eyes got greener."

I held back a roll of eyes. "It's just the sunlight, Valerie. I don't even know the guy." And wasn't interested in meeting him. Guys weren't on my priority list at the moment. They hadn't been for a long time now, not since Stephen had cut my heart to shreds.

"Oh, but you will meet him. He came back yesterday evening."

Her knowing wasn't a surprise. Living in a small town encouraged everyone to gossip. It was normal to make a fuss for anything. They'd even made a fuss for my arrival, and that was just plain ridiculous.

"Really? Wow," I didn't share her enthusiasm, of course.

Guy-talking always had me feeling down, because it left me struggling with one buried memory that popped up its head whenever a conversation of this kind presented itself. Really, why couldn't I-

"Hey, City Girl!" a deep voice called, cutting off my thoughts. "Spacing out again?"

"I...yeah, kind of." I blushed.

"You do that pretty often," Owen said, his hazel eyes smiling at me. He looked like the boy next door, the perfect guy to bring home to parents. His face displayed innocence and tenderness, and it made me want to fuzzle his hair, like a sister to his baby brother. But once he twisted his lips into a smile, all those sweet layers turned into something wicked, as if he'd just robbed some girl's lollipop. And the cute dimples on each side of his mouth only sharpened it.

"I guess Ruidoso has that effect on me." I smiled.

"Can't blame you. This isn't as exciting as New York, I bet. Good thing I have Val with me to keep me entertained." He pulled her close to him and planted a huge kiss on her lips.

Red flag. Red flag. I could feel the memory digging its way out. The scenario wasn't helpful and I was standing in front of the cutest couple ever. Without notice, I dropped my inner fight and let the memory drag me down deep into the past.

It was one of our late night movie sessions. Stephen brought chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and we ordered pizza from Bambino's. We were sitting next to each other with our backs pressed to the couch, our hands dipped into the popcorn bucket he'd insisted on making. Stephen couldn't watch a movie without those white puffs in his mouth. He said it didn't feel right, like not eating roasted turkey with cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving, or burgers without French fries.

Since our movie sessions were at my place, he'd bought me a very cool theater-like popcorn popper for my birthday. I wasn't much of a popcorn fan, but having the bucket between us gave me the perfect excuse to touch his hand from time to time. He'd never seen it as more than a casual, distracted motion-the result of a person way too absorbed with the story unrolling across the screen to notice what she was doing. But it'd been so much more than that. He didn't know I lived for those moments, those glimpses of time where I could feel the whisper of his skin against mine, usually followed with a sharp tilt of my stomach. And it shouldn't have been like that. He was my best friend, almost like a brother. Those sizzling feelings shouldn't have been there, wrapping me with longing.

But they were, and I couldn't do anything about it. The emotions had grown too strong. And that night, they were unbearable. With him sitting so close to me, all I could think of was how badly I wanted his arms around me, how badly I wanted his lips on mine, and how badly I wanted to tell him I loved him.

Which I did.

"What?" Steve said, incredulous.

"I...I said I love you." I lowered my eyes and looked at my fingers. Maybe I hadn't said it right. Maybe I should have kissed him before spilling out the words. I knew he feared love like me, so maybe talking about it wasn't the right way to bring it up. A kiss was quicker and easier-okay, maybe not easier but definitely less awkward.

Hope and fear clenched my stomach, more tightly each second that passed by in silence. When the sound of his voice still didn't reach my ears after a few more excruciating heartbeats, I lifted my head and turned to look up at him. "Steve?" I said, in a voice so small it could hardly be heard.

He was staring at me, stiff like a statue, shadows of light playing across his face. "I-I don't know," he swallowed hard. "I mean, what do you want me to say?" He looked at me with pained eyes.

I shouldn't be telling you what to say, I thought. He either felt it or not. My heart plummeted and I actually stopped breathing for a moment. It hurt too much. It was as if horns were pricking the back of my throat.

"Kalista," he moved his hand to mine but stopped midway. After a few seconds, he pulled it back. He ran his hand across his face and said, "I have to go."

I didn't look up when he stood and stopped in front of me. I didn't look up when he crouched and bent forward to hug me. I didn't look up when he straightened and walked away. But I did look up when he was at the door and walked out with his head low. My heart shattered into sharp-edged little pieces.

He never came back after that.

I sighed. Valerie and Owen were still kissing. I turned away blushing, my head hanging. Love wasn't meant for me. Since that awful day, I'd promised myself I would never fall in love again and risk my heart that way. Ever.

Anyway, I was better this way, hassle-free. Who needed guys, right?

My ears caught a sudden laugh in the distance, like a cosmic joke was refuting my last thought. I felt a strange pull toward the sound, as if it was calling me with magnetic waves. I lifted my head and...and standing in the parking lot was the most stunning guy I'd ever seen in my entire life. He was more than six feet tall, with dark hair stopping shortly below his ears and that, under the kiss of the sun, had a warm chestnut glow. His strong jawline drew a face worthy of a jaguar, or a Greek god, and...most certainly, he had the body of the latter. The way his shirt clung to his chest along the wind's rhythm was bone-melting evidence, and the long sleeves couldn't stop me from imagining what was underneath them-strong and comforting arms made for deep hugs and cuddles. Just perfect.

He started moving in my direction, followed by a friend of his. I lowered my face and pretended to search for something in my tote, but even without looking at him, I could sense the distance shrinking progressively between us. He was close now. I was highly aware of him.

"Hi," he said when he passed by me.

Say something or you'll look stupid.

I glanced up and smiled, but it was too late. He was already entering the school with his black leather jacket over his shoulder. All the girls around stared at him in awe.

"May I present to you, Tristan Winfield," Valerie whispered next to my ear. "The god of hotness on earth."

"You don't need to whisper, Val. I know what you're telling her," Owen said, annoyed.

She rolled her eyes and turned to him. "Owen, you know I love you-but stop eavesdropping!"

"Yeah, whatever. He's the good-looking guy, right? I mean, he's cool and everything but-"

"Don't start again please," she prompted, pulling her fingers to her temples. "We need to go. English is about to start." The words 'thank God' hanging in the air.

I followed Valerie and swallowed back a smile. Owen looked like a pouting kid about to cross his arms in anger, but he had good reason to feel that way. Valerie didn't exaggerate when she'd told me about Tristan's "gorgeousness." In fact, she fell short.

Stop thinking about him. Stop.

I wasn't allowed to think about a guy. Not now, not ever. After all, having good looks always made people cocky and obnoxious, and I was certain he was one of those. He had to be, and I so not needed to waste my time on a guy like that-or on any guy for that matter.

The classroom was packed with students. A boisterous cloud of voices floated around. Not having a choice, I sat down in the front row with Valerie and Owen behind me. I pulled my tote from my shoulder and settled it on my lap. I took out my striped notebook, the fancy Mont Blanc pen my dad had given me last year, and the Shakespeare play we were studying, As You LikeIt.

English was my favorite subject, so at least I knew my mind wasn't going to be fooling around with senseless thoughts for an hour.

The noise in the classroom ceased. "Good morning, class," Mrs. Bedford said, setting on the desk an attaché case that'd seen more springs than my eyes. "Take out your books. Today we're going to read act three, scene four."

Everyone started to fish out their books. I was the only one who was ready. "Miss Hamilton," she said, aiming her wide brown eyes on me.

Shoot.

"Could you please step in front of the class and read?"

Ugh. That wasn't a question, it was an order. This is why I didn't like to be in the front row-and I didn't understand why we had to step in front of the whole class. We could read fine from our seats!

Without a choice, I stood up halfheartedly with the book in my shaky hands. Being in front of everyone petrified me. It made me feel as if I was standing under the spotlight on a huge stage of a theater full of critics.

Before I aimed my eyes on the page, I wished I hadn't looked at the crowd in front of me, because this was way worse than having top critics. Tristan was in the back of the classroom, looking as stunning as he'd been outside. To my relief, he wasn't watching me. He was submerged in the book, engrossed in the pages unfolding before his eyes-which I have to be honest, melted my insides.

I focused on the words, trying to forget my racing heart, and forced myself not to look back at him. I took a deep breath and started to read, and before I knew it, it was over. I closed the book with a muted sigh and raised my head. My eyes met his. He was staring at me, surprise and bemusement swirling in his gaze. Had I done something to stir that? But, oh...I wondered how his eyes had escaped my gaze last time. Even if he'd been far away, such eyes couldn't be unnoticed. The most stunning gray colored his iris, with a thin mist of emerald in its depth. It was like seeing angel eyes, heavenly hypnotizing me with their sweet gaze. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My hands were sweating, but I wanted to stay there, even if I was in front of the whole class.

I stood in awe, hoping his stunning eyes wouldn't let me go and that time would stop.

But his eyes let go and time continued.