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that she liked him way too much. And they had only spoken a few times. Bethany wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet.
    She hadn’t expected how quickly he got under her skin. And she really wasn’t prepared for the slightly empty feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched him jog around the corner to his science class. God…she actually missed him.
    She definitely wasn’t looking over her shoulder in the hallway for him when she stopped at her locker before lunch. Nope. Not at all. Her mind wasn’t wrapped up in a boy she’d just met. And she definitely didn’t keep comparing every color of green to eyes that shone like polished emeralds.
    Bethany drifted through the rest of her classes, nervous and excited and wound up like the tight ball of rubber bands that Simon Cutters always held in his hand throughout chemistry. After he’d tossed it in the air for about the fiftieth time, she wanted to grab it and throw it through the fogged-over windows in their classroom.
    In gym, she kept staring at Dawson, who was at another ping-pong table playing against Carissa, a quiet girl with the coolest horn-rimmed glasses Bethany had ever seen. Her gaze went right back to him.
    Damn, he made plain white T-shirts a thing to worship.
    With every sweep of the paddle, the shirt stretched over taut muscles. Did he run? Work out a lot? Teenage boys usually didn’t sport that kind of a hard body.
    Dawson smacked the ball toward Carissa again. She missed it, and in that tiny space of time while she hunted it down, he glanced over at Bethany and smiled.
    Her heart skipped right out of her chest. Bad, oh so bad.
    A plastic yellow ball zinged past her face, almost kissing her cheek.
    Kimmy, her partner, popped her hands on her hips. “You’re not even paying attention.”
    She winced, because she wasn’t paying attention at all. “Sorry,” she mumbled, turning around and searching the floor for the damn ball. It was all the way over by the bleachers. “I’ll get it.”
    Kimmy sighed, studying her manicured nails. “Yeah, not like I was planning to in the first place.”
    Ignoring her, Bethany stalked over to the ball. The whole gawking thing was already getting out of hand, and she had a feeling it was going to get worse. Even now she was fighting the mad urge to look over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. It felt like he was. Do not do it . The muscles in her neck cramped. Absolutely not. Her fingers twitched around the paddle. She bent and—
    A golden hand reached the ball before she could. Startled, she took a step back as her gaze drifted up…and up. Where in the hell had he come from? It was the blond from the hallway yesterday—the model-perfect boy with wavy hair that kept falling into crystalline blue eyes. If she remembered correctly, he had been at least four tables over, and there was a good five feet in between each one. She hadn’t even seen him move, and it wasn’t like you could miss something that gorgeous walking around.
    Or maybe she just had a bad case of Dawson on the brain.
    “Um, thanks for getting…” Her words trailed off as her eyes met his. The coldness in his stare chilled her. He did nothing to hide his dislike. It practically rolled off him and crawled over her skin like a dozen spiders.
    “What’s your name?” he demanded.
    Bethany blinked. The sound of his voice matched his eyes. Frigid. Hard. Full of snobbish loathing. Back in her old school, she’d been on the receiving end of that kind of a stare more than a few times, especially after she and Daniel had broken up. He’d been the popular one…
    The boy smirked. “You have a name, right? Or can you not understand English?”
    A hot flush shot over her cheeks, turning them cherry red, she was sure. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Confrontation wasn’t her thing and this was a confrontation. Okay, so she had no problem getting into it with her mom over things, but with other people? Yeah, she stared at