Then You Look At Me |COMPLETED|

Locker Guy

Room T81- Math.

I scrunch my face up in ignorance before shifting my amber eyes to my 'tour-guide' who is now tapping away on his cell.

"Um, where can I find T81?"

"Oh shit, she sends nudes?!" He chuckles at his screen, and I presume he didn't hear a word I said.

I sigh and my patience withers away. "Look if you didn't want to help me out, you could have said so."

He finally looks up at me, and his smile fades while his brows bump together in a frown. "Sorry. What did you say?"

I repel the urge to roll my eyes skyward. I am already hating this school. At least at Freetown High I had a few friends but the kids here are way too stuck-up for my liking.

"Do you know where T81 is?"

"Second room, third floor." He states, "Look, I got to run because I have something to take care of so you can find your way there, right?"

Really?

I just nod and he scurries away quickly as if he's thrilled to get away from me.

I jotted my locker number on the back of my timetable while inside Mrs. Cameron's office earlier, so while reciting the combination, I scan the lockers for the one with the allotted engravement.

Finally locating it, a smile shapes my puffy lips as I reach down to sit my knapsack on the marble tiles before punching in the combination of digits.

"Okay." I breathe in. The door creaks open as if it hadn't been used in a million years. I wrinkle my nose and fan away dust bunnies while coughing excessively. God, this school could not get any worse.

"Okay, don't freak out Rain. Let's start on a good note."

I reach down to open my bag before grabbing the accessories I took from home to decorate my locker. After using my rag to clean the area up, which I will certainly have to throw away later, I hang a photo of my Dad and me at the top before adorning the metal space with small flowers. For the finishing touch, I place a mirror at the back of the locker so I can always be aware of what's behind me. I developed this habit last fall at Freetown when a kid stuck gum in my hair from behind while I stood at my locker.

I rake my slender fingers through my bronze hair in an attempt to get it tidy. My hair is always a mess, and this isn't because I don't comb it in the mornings, it's just that my hair is not well-behaved like other people's.

My eyes drift to a figure behind me from my mirror. A guy stands by his locker, jamming some books into his knapsack. His black mop of hair is tousled on his head and from behind, I can tell he's wearing glasses. He doesn't appear to be a 'glasses' guy though, stereotypically judging by his atlas shoulders and lean figure.

He closes his locker and whirls around to leave and immediately, our eyes connect. I notice right away his icy pair of sapphire eyes beneath the half-rim glasses and I avert my gaze awkwardly.

Okay, let's not stare at strangers like a creep Rainey.

He walks off, his face expressionless despite catching a weird stranger gazing at him from her mirror.