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and I immediately duck my head, letting my hair shield my cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I promise not to cause any trouble,” I say, eerily formal after his speech.
                  His face looks slightly pained before it evens out again. “Yes, Katherine. I expect wonderful things from you,” he says, voice back to his usual cheery tone. “Now, your pass…” he says , scribbling something o nto a spare sheet of paper and then handing it to me.
                  Luckily, my next period is a free one, so there really is no need for a pass. With no teacher to report to, and no wandering eyes watching me, I make my way into the back courtyard, far more lavish than that of any public school I’ve ever seen. I walk somewhat sluggishly into the garden and sit down on a concrete bench, putting my head in my hands. I haven’t been seated but a minute and those strange, yet utterly familiar, prickles start working their way up my spine, raising the tiny hairs that cover my skin.
                  “Are you stalking me?” a sultry voice says, coming from above me.
                  Immediately, my gaze shoots up, looking for the source but seeing nothing except the leaves of a large oak tree. Still seeing nothing, I look all around, standing and turning in a complete circle, utterly mystified.
                  Then, a low thud alerts his presence behind me, and I turn to see Tristan standing in the garden. With the flowers and sunlight surrounding him, he could be standing in Eden. The thought hits me like a massive boulder, literally sending vibrations from my head to my toes, covering my body in goose-bumps.
                  Why hadn’t I thought of this immediately? Was this boy my angel? The angel the Lord himself promised to send to me? But, God said I wouldn’t expect my angel to look like an angel, and Tristan is the epitome of perfection, in my eyes. These feelings of peace- these prickles, the ridiculous longing to be close to him- seems so natural, but foreign. It feels as if my body is on autopilot, acting of its own accord and living my life without me really having any say, which I’m not so sure I like.
                  But, if Tristan is my angel, wouldn’t there be some sign? Other than the strange feelings I get around him…? Those could be hormonal nerves, activated by actually talking to a devilishly good looking boy. Having little association with the opposite sex in recent months, I seem to have forgotten what a reasonable reaction to a hot boy is. I’ve never felt this way around anyone before, not even the one boyfriend I’ve actually had.
                  The silence begins to lengthen, and Tristan’s brow furrows. “Are you alright?” he says, voice laced with anxiety.
                  Great…now he probably thinks I’m psycho. Staring at him like an idiot, stop it! “Yeah, sorry,” I answer, but to my dismay, it comes out breathless.
                  He sits down and takes a bite of a green apple, wiping the juice that seeped from the side of his mouth. I notice a scar running along the back of his wrist before he sees me watching and lowers his arm.
                  “Where were you just now?” I ask, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it.
                  He smiles a small, sweet smirk that sends my heartbeat into a frantic rhythm. He smiles even more when he answers, “In the tree… you don’t have very good eyesight, do you? I was literally right above you and you didn’t even see me,” he laughs lightly, the sound bouncing through my ears, filling my heart with peace.
                  I cannot help the smile that spreads across my lips when I respond. “I wasn’t expecting to find you lounging in a tree,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from every word.
                  Keep your eyes open, Katherine, because he is not