In a Heartbeat.

The Beginning.

I walked out of my room, wearing a crisp long-sleeved white shirt, plain blue-jeans, and gray knee-high boots. I liked boots, they were warm, perfect when I decided I wanted to walk in the rain. A pendant swung loose around my neck, the chain long enough to hang beneath my chest. A locket. Inside was a picture of my Mother, she was beautiful, a kind smile playing at her lips in the photo. She wasn't ready to have a child, so I was given to her close friend.

I haven't met my Mother, but I don't blame her for being around. She was a free spirit, and I never wished to tie her down. A lovely woman like her, with her startling hazel eyes, never should be tied down. Especially not by me. Besides, I was perfectly content at the way things were now. Things were good. I liked how everything was.

Kay (My adoptive parent) was a good person. She was a short, petite woman, dwarfed by my 5"5 inches to her 4"9. She had freckles splashed along her nose, and dusty-brown hair hanging just right at her shoulders, and swinging up in an A-cut, to reveal the tattoo of a cute violet heart on the back of her neck.

She didn't make me call her Mom, didn't bother giving me a curfew, or give me limits on what to eat. I could eat anything; my Metabolism allowed it, which was nicely conveniant. Didn't care if I left the house, as long as I was back in time for dinner, or told her otherwise.

I ambled down the wooden stairsteps, pausing to jump off the fourth step to the bottom; a habit I had no intention to outgrow any time soon, the house was familiar, with a charcoal-esque smell that I liked. The fireplace was always running in the winter. It kept the house warm with no need for artificial heating. I smelled the bitter scent of black tea waiting for me next to the door in a mug.

I grabbed the mug and tested it; made just how I like. With a rare smile, I tucked it under my arm and managed to pull on my long black trenchcoat, leaving it unbottoned as I wrapped my favorite scarf around my neck and walked out the door, but not before shouting a quick thanks to Kay for the tea, who sat in the kitchen flipping through a cookbook. I was glad she was looking at recipes. She couldn't cook otherwise. Silly Kay.

I stepped out into the winter air, clutching my mug to my chest for its provided warmth, and walked along the path toward my school. I'm a Second-year in highschool, and was fond of it, for its warmth and familiarity. The teachers there were laid-back, humorous even, sometimes. They were appreciated for not being hardasses, and the jokesters liked to rip on them. I was rarely one of those people.

Stepping onto campus, I saw a crowd. In the middle, standing tall and unwavering, was an unfamiliar face. He was stern, and had a quiet ferocity about him, lingering in his irreproachable eyes. Girls giggled around him, trying to get his attention, and murmuring about how attractive he was.

I chuckled to myself and shied my way through the crowd, trying to get to the front doors of the school. In the middle of the crowd, I was shoved. By who, I had no idea, but the thing I did know, is that I bumped right into the new guy.... Shit.

He caught me by the elbows, holding me upright, without stumbling. Strong, for a thin boy. He was tall, lean, and had dark hazel eyes that were quietly dangerous, almost hidden under his shaggy black hair. It took me a moment to realize that we were both now covered in thick, red... Liquid?

I exhaled softly, in relief, recognizing the scent. Paint.

Wait.... Paint?

I looked down. The boy had dropped his canvas book (Like a sketchpad, but the paper is thick enough for paint not to leak through) to catch me. He had already been covered in paint, but now I was too..... Double shit.

The crowd dwindled as people shied away tentatively, as if they thought something bad was going to happen to me. The crowds eventually began to mill back too their groups of friends to discuss in hushed tones the events that had just taken place, forgetting about us standing there.

The new boy pushed me back, helping me find my balance. I looked at him gratefully, then that look in my eyes faded as I realized that nothing in his facial expression had changed, but this time, those dark eyes were focused directly on me.

He was close to me, and I found my heart pumping faster in a type of embarrassed panic. He lifted my locket into his pale hand, investigating the smooth round exterior, before flipping it open easily with thin, nimble fingers. Damn, I could never get that thing open on the first try. I stood frozen, not really knowing what to do, as he studied the photograph of my Mother for a moment, before his eyes flickered back to me.

"She's beautiful." He murmured, in a soft, low voice that somehow suited him.

My face grew red. Who was he to say such a thing as that? I covered the lower half of my face with the back of my hand, blushing apprehensively.

"She... looks a lot like you. Quite a lovely family resemblance..." He added, flipping the locket closed, and smirking, a startling, dangerous look. I gasped, my face flushing further. Did he just...? Call me....? What the hell.

Then he picked up his canvas book and strode away. In a Hearbeat, he was gone, leaving me with a massive blush and a ruined white shirt.... Triple shit.