Chapter 4

I did a little victory dance in my head when I found classroom A232. Yes, I made it just on time, I thought as the late bell rang. The room was full, with a few empty chairs. Some students stared into space, others looked bored. As I approached Mr. Jenkins’s desk, all eyes turned to me, their stares burning into my back.

Mr. Jenkins was young, maybe twenty-five, and undeniably hot—but too old and my teacher. I shivered at the thought of a teacher-student romance. He had short light brown hair, hazel eyes, a sculpted face, and a nice build. Please don’t tell me the teachers here are hot too, a voice in my head groaned. I couldn’t handle that pressure.

I reached his small office space at the back. His feet were propped on a dark wooden desk, eyes on his phone, texting. He seemed chill—unlike the uptight teachers at my old school.

He hadn’t noticed me, still absorbed in his Blackberry. I cleared my throat. He looked up slowly, smiled, and realization dawned. “You must be the new student,” he said. “Daniella, right?”

“Just call me Danny,” I said, offering a small smile and a nod.

“Alright, class, this is Danny, our new student,” Mr. Jenkins announced. I turned, giving a shy wave. Some smiled, others—mostly guys—checked me out. Ew, I thought.

“You can sit over there,” he pointed to a desk by the windows. “We’re waiting for some students.”

I sat, sighing, and closed my eyes to steady myself. Okay, Danny, get a grip. You’re doing great. You’re strong, I told myself. “Danny, I didn’t know I had this class with you!” a familiar voice said.

I looked right and saw Abigail beside me, grinning lopsidedly. “Oh, hey Abigail,” I said, smiling back enthusiastically.

Five minutes passed, and class hadn’t started. “Who are we waiting for?” I asked her.

“The Crescent Pack,” she said, rolling her eyes at the name. I raised an eyebrow, confused. She sighed. “Four boys always fashionably late—not the whole group, but you get it. They hold us back. I want a good college, but their tardiness cuts lessons short.”

“Why not report it to the office? Don’t they get ‘no credit’ for being late?”

She sighed again. “No matter what, it doesn’t matter. They’re the richest group here. The leader’s dad founded the school and funds everything.” The door banged open, and four gorgeous boys strolled in. One was the jerk who’d shoved me earlier. I looked down, hoping to go unnoticed. “Speaking of the angels,” Abigail said sarcastically, loud enough for them to hear. “They’ve finally graced us.”

One smirked at her. “Babe, I know you missed me, but you don’t have to tell the world.” He had black hair, creamy skin, mysterious gray eyes, a white button-down rolled to his elbows, and sharp black jeans—clearly stylish.

Abigail snorted, crossing her arms. “You wish, Eli.”

“It’s Elliot, babe. Only friends call me Eli.” She rolled her eyes.

“Abs, Eli’s jealous—he saw you kissing Charles this morning,” another guy said, with rusty hair and brown eyes. The class laughed. Abigail’s face flushed, a flicker of sadness crossing it before she smirked at Elliot, who looked annoyed. I noted to ask her about this later—gossip was my weakness.

“Shut up, Jet,” Elliot growled at his friend.

“Class, settle down,” Mr. Jenkins scolded, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Where are your passes, boys? Got a reason for being late, Mr. Marshall?”

The guy who’d shoved me shook his head, smirking. “Mr. Jenkins, you know I’m not the responsible one.”

“Oh, Weston. When will you learn leadership—especially for this group—requires responsibility?” Especially for this group? I wondered suspiciously. So his name’s Weston. Sexy. Wait, no—I shouldn’t think that! I shook it off, glancing at them, my eyes lingering on Weston. He was the sexiest of the four, lean and prime for any flirt’s list. His messy jet-black hair begged to be touched, and his deep blue eyes held a story I wanted to unravel.

Weston caught me staring. Ugh, I hadn’t realized! What’s wrong with me? Comfort flashed across his face, then a smirk. “Like what you see?” he asked.

I smirked back. “If I liked trash, maybe.” He looked stunned, and the room went silent. I despised cocky jerks. All eyes turned to me. Suddenly, Elliot and Jet were in front of me.

“So, you’re the new girl Jade mentioned yesterday!” Elliot said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Elliot—call me Eli.” He offered his hand; I shook it. Abigail scoffed—probably at the nickname privilege. “Abs, babe, no need to be jealous,” Eli said over his shoulder.

“I’m Jet,” the other said, smiling and shaking my hand. They didn’t flaunt their looks or flirt relentlessly.

“I’m Daniella, but call me Danny. Nice to meet you,” I said sincerely, smiling.

“Let’s begin,” Mr. Jenkins called enthusiastically, met with groans.

I watched Eli, Jet, and Weston take seats. One lingered, speaking quietly with Mr. Jenkins. He was handsome, resembling Channing Tatum—my favorite actor from Dear John, undeniably sexy.

He walked to his seat, caught me looking, and winked before sitting next to Weston. I looked down, cheeks warming as blood rushed to my face.