Chapter 1

I'd never see myself as someone who was capable of such strong emotion like hate. But as I pushed my long red hair behind my ears and glanced at my Chemistry class partner, that emotion was exactly what came to my mind. Hate.

"Stop staring at me," Noah Krasinskin says to me, his dark black irises shining in arrogance behind those dreamy thick eyelashes.

Noah Krasinskin. He's tall, lean, pale. Extremely and painfully stunning looking, with dark black pupils and a messy tuft of satin dark hair on his head. Also, did I mention he's a music student at my high school, guitarist to be specific, with a soft musical voice that literally DRIPS with arrogance and flamboyance.

"I'm not staring at you, jackass," I say stupidly, my hands already sweating because he's looking at me with the corners of his mouth curved into an amused expression. But he's not smiling. Leave alone grinning. That guy never smiles. He's rude, impatient, arrogant and careless. Exactly the opposite of me.

"Did you just call me a jackass, Silver?" he repeats, clearly teasing, and I roll my eyes with a huff.

I huff in irritation. In exasperation. Because Noah Krasinskin is the most beautiful guy I've ever laid eyes upon, and he just HAS to behave like he knows it. He does. He's too attractive to handle and he knows it very well. Those high cheekbones, those eyelashes, that sharp jawline, his clear skin and soft pink lips send shivers down my spine. I do stare at him.

My name is Evangeline "Gelly" Silver. I'm seventeen years old, an art student at Graves High School in Taxile County, and hopelessly attracted to my class partner, who happens to be the biggest jerk in this century.

Noah and his family, The Krasinskins, shifted to Taxile County only this summer. It is the middle of monsoon now, so he's been going to the same school as me for about three months.

"I saw Holden today," Rashmi, my best friend, who shifted here from India last year, tells me with a girlish giggle. I pat her back and congratulate her as we take our food trays and sit on our standard table in the cafeteria.

"Aiden got hot," Rashmi purrs in my ear, scanning a table a little away from ours, where two boys with identical dark brown hair and three girls with long black ones sit huddled over a tray that has very little food for five people. The Krasinskin siblings.