101 Ways to Save a Life

Haiden | 01

Abort, abort.

Later on, when Lyla revisited this moment (and she would, countless times), she would wonder what in the hell had come over her. She would ask herself when her mother had raised such a spineless wuss. Like, really, what the hell happened to the cheeky, bold woman she and Sirah knew and loved?

Because as Haiden Lucas drifted ever nearer and Lyla found herself trapped in his wide, amber eyes and crooked smile, she had only one thought.

I think the fuck not.

And then she was flying out the door.

"Lyla?!" Sirah called after in disbelief, but Lyla was going, going, gone.

***

As first encounters often are, Lyla's and Haiden's was truthfully a ghastly disaster—that was if you could even call their interaction an encounter.

On the second occasion that Lyla James laid eyes on the boy in the white dress shirt, not only was he not wearing a white dress shirt, but the encounter—real, this time—took place in a classroom. It was a setting Lyla could not easily escape, especially considering that the teacher was none other than the infamous Miss Wyatt.

It was the start of the second semester at Trellis, and Lyla had managed to put aside her grudge towards the ancient woman in order to feign "passion", for she would be damned if she let her inability to feel enthusiasm towards science ruin her perfect record.

"Lucas and James—the female, Quentin." Wyatt raised her brow at the restless male before turning her attention back to the lab stations. "Station five, Lucas."

Lyla recognized neither the name nor the face of her newfound partner. He was sporting a baby-blue dress shirt, and the only thing that concerned her was that he looked a bit too easy-going for her tastes; he was bound to be trouble. With a faint smirk on his lips, he glanced sidelong at her as she took her seat at their table.

"Is track season over for you?"

Lyla blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't remember," he said, chuckling. "Should I be offended, because I really thought we had a moment back there? In the cafeteria?"

And then Lyla's new lab partner was suddenly all too familiar—if not for the dress shirt, then for the same crooked smile she had detested before, as much as she still did now. Lyla scowled; she would not let him get to her. "Don't you know it's rather rude to stare at people?"

"I would apologize, but I actually didn't do anything wrong." If it was even possible, Haiden's grin grew wider.

His smile is crooked.

"Have you ever heard of a thing called common courtesy?" Lyla muttered, and her eyes flickered from Haiden's to his pleated khakis. She didn't like how she already knew his eyes were a deep shade of amber. And she definitely didn't like how she noticed that he had the tiniest silver fleck within his right iris, like stardust floating in a galaxy.

"Oh, but you make a boy want to throw all sense to the wind." He sighed.

His smile is crooked.

Scowling, Lyla stared hard at the analog clock behind Haiden, counting the minutes until class would be over.

"Are you ignoring me?" Haiden asked abruptly, and Lyla could hardly keep herself from biting out a sharp yes!

He tilted his head in her direction, attempting to place himself in her line of sight. When he realized that she was deliberately avoiding his gaze, he gasped dramatically. "You are ignoring me. That's not very nice, you know."

Lyla whipped her head in his direction. He was as bat-shit crazy as Miss Wyatt. "You do know who I am, right?"

"Intimidation nation. All hail the queen," he murmured, though not derisively. "Lyla James: loner extraordinaire." Haiden's gaze turned thoughtful. "Sirah Hassan's your closest—and only—friend, as far as I can tell. You're smart, to the point where you'd be number one in our class if not for Alexander Tate—"

"For your information, Alex wouldn't even be number one if Wyatt wasn't out to get—" Lyla froze, for Haiden's expression had turned smug.

She clenched her jaw shut.

"As I was saying"—he grinned at her—"you'd be number one if not for Alexander Tate, but it hardly matters whether you're smart. Or funny. Or a secret drug lord, because you scare the crap out of everyone at this school."

"Oh, yeah," Lyla muttered, "then why are you even talking to me right now?"

"Because you scare the crap out of everyone except me."

And she did not know what to say to that. Haiden's amber eyes caught her grey ones, and she was again drawn to the silver fleck within his right iris. It seemed to pulsate, dancing in a sea of deep-spun gold, pulling her in.

"Lyla?" Haiden whispered her name gently, and she was startled out of her reverie.

Get a grip, James! She'd been staring somewhat mesmerized into his eyes, and she was more than ashamed. This was not some high school fairytale, and she was not one of those girls. Sirah had been right; Haiden was charming—she was completely conscious of that fact, just as she was conscious of the fact that he was using his charisma as a weapon.

He was grinning at her, currently. Grinning with that stupid crooked smile of his, and so she made sure he saw her deliberately scoot her stool away from him. He saw it—she was sure he had—but he only laughed, the sound ringing in her ears.

However, when she was a few minutes into her quest to mentally wipe Haiden Lucas from the face of the earth, he began to weasel his way back into her head. It was his left hand, each fingertip following the other as he drummed out a slow rhythm on the smooth surface of their lab table.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4.

She zoned in on his hand, her face flushing with heat as irritation rose within her. Haiden was no stranger to her annoyance, and he flattened his palm and silenced the sound only to watch her eyes drift to his face.

"We should probably pay attention to the lesson, Ly." He arched a dark brow when she twitched at the nickname. "Wyatt's speaking, and we both know you've got your work cut out for you."

Oh, where was the spork when you needed one?