DARN. So much for staying under the radar and making a quick exit.
I stare at the strange, sleepy boy. He stares back at me.
For a moment neither one of us speaks. Then he lets out another yawn, lifting his hand up in front of his mouth, revealing long, beautiful fingers - the hands of a musician, I'm sure of it.
He stretches out again, then rubs his eyes, blinking at me as if he's still slightly dazed.
"So?" he finally says, fixing his cool grey gaze on me.
"So... what?" I ask, confused.
"So, what's the answer?" He asks. "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?" I repeat the question like an i***t. Am I not supposed to be here? And if I'm not, why does he even care? Who is this guy? Some sort of hall monitor? A prefect? Student council? Although, he doesn't exactly look like any of
