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"Thanks," I mutter halfheartedly to the lunch lady.

My halfheartedness rooted from the issue that there were no more fries by the time I got in line, and I was heartbroken to say the least. Georgina rolled her eyes at me and ignored my whines, but I didn't stop moping around as we walked toward our table. I scanned the middle until I saw Wes and Joey laughing at something at their normal table and let out a breath.

"Why do they insist on being in the middle of the cafeteria?" I complain to Georgina. "It doesn't even matter."

"So they can look at more girls," Georgina answers easily.

I laugh and joke, "As if they don't talk about girls enough, they need to look at them at all times as well."

It was weird how easily Georgina and I fell into a routine with the boys. We've eaten lunch together all week, and Wes is in my History class and moved to sit next to me by the door. On Wednesday, Wes and Joey dragged us into the center of the cafeteria, where there was an empty table- their table, they assured me and Georgina- and we've been sitting there ever since.

We walk through the tables, past the judgmental and curious stares, until we reach Joey and Wes. I sit down in my normal seat across from where Carter usually sits, and next to Joey. The boys were in a heated argument about the Patriots and the Cowboys and didn't even notice our presence to greet us, so I just started eating.

"Tom Brady is the best quarterback in the league," Wes exclaims. "The Cowboys are just having dumb luck with Prescott."

Joey lets his jaw hang open in awe before spluttering, "Dax Prescott is not lucky, he is incredibly talented. Not to mention the man himself, Tony Romo."

"Tony Romo," Wes rolls his eyes. "Tony Romo has nothing on Brady."

"You just wait until next season, man," Joey shakes his head vehemently. "You'll realize that America's Team is perfect."

Carter sits down in between Joey and Wes, his tray dropping on the table with a thud, and looks between the boys. "What are you two arguing about? I could hear you shouting from the lunch line."

"Something pointless," Georgina mutters and I nod.

Wes points his finger accusingly at Joey and hisses, "He says Dax is better than Brady."

Carter turns to Joey and frowns at him. "You're a Cowboys fan? In New England? Disrespecting Tom Brady, the man with enough Super Bowl rings for each finger?"

I held back laughter at Carter's accusatory tone as he easily fell into the argument with the other boys. Even though I had become closer friends with Wes and Joey, Carter and I were at somewhat of a stand still. After our car ride home yesterday, I conceded to close myself off from him in order to keep from getting hurt.

Because let's be honest, there's no in between with Carter. It's either that I'm all in or not in at all. I can't float in an in between area where we're friends and everything is fine, especially with how things ended between us. So I kept my distance, barely acknowledged him, and usually only spoke to Wes, Joey, and Georgina.

"So, guys, my parents are out of town tonight. Party at my house later," Wes says casually, then glares at Joey. "Patriots fans only."

Georgina perks up at the prospect of a party and leans forward excitedly. "Party?"

Wes turns to grin at her. "Yes ma'am. Just me and my fifty closest friends. Are you going to be there?"

She turns to me and raises her eyebrows. "Want to come with me?"

Subconsciously, my eyes divert to Carter, who is watching me carefully, before I look back at her. "I don't know..."

"Amelia," Wes whines, and I glance at him to see that he's pouting at me. "It's my first party of Senior year, you have to come."

Between his pout and Georgina's begging eyes, I finally caved. "Okay, I'll go."

Wes grinned and Georgina mirrored it, the boys easily continuing their discussion about the Patriots and the Cowboys. Carter is sitting silently in his seat while Joey and Wes argue back and forth, and I think about what I just committed to.

Wes' parties were infamous around school. They were notorious for being the most rowdy, loudest, and funnest parties, because he basically lets the whole school use his house as a club. He's loaded, so he has his maids clean the mess before his parents come home, so he never gets caught. I've only been to one with Jake once, but generally stayed away.

Until now.

Georgina nudges my knee and looks at me seriously, her voice low as she asks, "Are you okay? You seem lost in space."

I glance at her and, for some reason, see Poppy. Georgina had grown to be one of my good friends at school, and yet I never told her that I knew Carter before, although I'm sure she's noticed by now. I didn't tell her anything about myself, confide in her about anything, and I felt like I could actually trust her.

For a moment, I think about telling her about Carter right then and there. I thought about pulling her from her seat and into the hallway so I could unload the emotional baggage I've been carrying around since camp ended. The only person that knows the full situation is Poppy, and she's miles away in a different state.

"I'll tell you about it later," I promise in an equally as low voice, so the boys didn't overhear us.

And, for the first time all year, I was excited to have a friend I could talk to.

+ + +

Kids spoke in murmurs around the room, some sitting on top of their desks instead of their seats, others tinkering with the multitude of instruments in the back. Because of the lack of friends I had in my Music Theory class, I sat silently at my desk, finishing the homework my Calculus teacher handed out earlier.

Mr. Peterson was late, but that wasn't strange. What was strange was that suddenly, while my head was down and eyes were glued to my worksheet, all the talking ceased at once when a door shut. The room had gone silent, and I assumed that was Mr. Peterson's doing, so I didn't bother to look up.

That is, until someone pulled out the seat beside me, and I realized it wasn't my teacher.

"Hey Amelia," Carter says lazily, and I look up in disbelief to see a matching lazy smile on his lips.

My brows knit together in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

He smirks a little at my expression and leans in to tell me, "I'm in this class now."

My confusion drops and so does my jaw. Murmurs, mostly from the female population in the class, begin circulating at his words. I tear my gaze away from Carter's satisfied smirk to glance around the room, surprisingly- note the sarcasm- finding most eyes on us. When I realized all the attention in the room was placed on me and Carter, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, looking back at him.

His smirk faded when he noticed I was uncomfortable, and glanced around the room to understand my shift in mood. As if his gaze was magic, everyone snapped their eyes away from us, and began talking amongst themselves. I frowned at the room- why couldn't I do that? I glanced back at Carter and my frown deepened.

"What do you mean?" I ask dumbly, for lack of a better response. "You can't be in this class. You haven't been here all week."

Carter holds up a pink transfer slip and smirks again. "I dropped Economics and had to fill the slot."

I stare at him for another minute before slumping back in my seat and muttering, "Great."

Mr. Peterson chooses that moment to walk in the door, silencing the murmurs around the room. I continued staring into space as I thought about spending another class period with Carter: as if one wasn't enough. It was so weird how Carter had been someone who once knew me better than most people, yet now I didn't even want to be in a class with him.

I made it halfway through the class without looking or speaking to Carter. Surprisingly, he gave up trying to start a conversation ten minutes into class, which was a new record for him. Usually, he whispered comments to me all class period, trying to catch a smile on my lips or a laugh escape from me. But everything changed with Mr. Peterson's shift in attitude.

Mr. Peterson claps his hands from the front of class and grins at all of us. "For the first part of the year, there will be no assignments or exams, like there usually are."

A collective sigh escapes everyone's lips, and excited murmurs disperse throughout the classroom.

"Instead," Mr. Peterson continues. "You will be assessed based on your performance on a group assignment. I'll be putting you in pairs and together, you will create a composition and perform it for class."

An excited smile graces my lips at the prospect of this assignment. I had a songbook full of compositions already, and writing a new one was like second nature to me.

"The pairs are listed on the instructional sheet I'm passing out now," Mr. Peterson tells us amongst the murmurs as he walks around the room to hand each student a piece of paper.

When I get mine, Mr. Peterson winks at me. "This is an easy A for you."

I grin at him because 1) Mr. Peterson is my absolute favorite teacher and 2) I knew that he was aware about the extent of how easily I created my personal compositions. As he continues walking down the aisle, I glance down at the sheet with the smile still on my lips, but it drops when I see the name beside mine.

Carter Miller and Amelia Stevens.

"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

"I'll try not to take that personally," Carter says plainly from beside me, and I turn to look at him with my shocked expression. My jaw was practically on the floor from surprise, and his bored expression twisted into a smirk. "Might wanna close your mouth before a fly decides it's his new home, Mina."

I clamp my jaw shut immediately and shake my head. "This has to be a mistake. We can't be partners."

His eyes flash with sadness, his smirk faltering, before he upholds it once again. "It's getting harder not to take your disappointment personally, you know."

Ignoring him, I get up abruptly from my seat and meet Mr. Peterson down by his desk. The pairs began grouping up in their seats, the room buzzing, while he just sat at his desk organizing some papers. I slap my paper down on his desk, effectively gaining Mr. Peterson's attention, and he glances up at me from behind the glasses perched on his nose.

"Yes, Amelia?" Mr. Peterson asks, his expression clearly amused.

I lean down to him and say quietly yet vehemently, "I can't work with Carter, Mr. Peterson. You're going to have to put me with someone else."

I felt fairly certain that he would do this for me, considering I've been in his music classes since my freshman year. Hell, last year I even played piano for him at a play because his pianist cancelled last minute. Before Jake and I started dating, I ate lunch in his classroom. Based on our long track record, I was positive that he would help me out here.

But, surprisingly enough, he shakes his head. "There's no switching partners, Amelia. You'll be working with Mr. Miller."

For the second time in two minutes, my jaw drops. "But why not?"

Mr. Peterson hesitates before saying, "If you switch, then everyone will want to switch. I can't set a bad example. Work out whatever problem you have with Mr. Miller and get on with the assignment."

His dismissing words shocked me as much as his rejection. I shut my mouth and clench my jaw as I turn around and walk past the desks of people discussing their projects, and I sit stiffly down in my chair beside the devil himself. I felt mildly bad that I had openly objected being his partner, but any guilt was washed away with my annoyance.

After a moment of silence between us, Carter asks, "When can you meet so we can start this project?"

I take a deep breath because, no matter how much I want to tell him that he is not my partner and we are not meeting outside of school, I had no say in the matter. I've never gotten a grade below a 90 in my entire high school career, and I wasn't about to start now just because I was partnered with the last person on the planet I wanted to be partnered with.

After I'm fairly composed, I turn towards Carter and offer, "I'm free after school on most days."

He nods. "So am I. I can drive you home after class and we can get a head start, if that's cool with you."

Reluctantly, I agree. "Sounds good."

The bell signals the end of class and the end of the school day. I collect my backpack and jacket before heading out the door, Carter trailing behind me. We walked silently through the halls and out the building, into the parking lot.

Wherever we walked, eyes followed. I was certain that everyone was interested in the dynamic between us, considering Carter ignored every other girl that's thrown himself at him since being here. Even though I wanted to say I didn't care that he's done that, I did.

It wasn't until we get in his car, driving away from school, that he decides to speak. "So, you're going to Wes' party tonight?"

Looking out the window, I mumble, "Apparently."

"You liked partying at camp," Carter points out curiously. "Why are you so reluctant to go to the party tonight?"

I shrug. "It's different. I actually like the people at camp."

Carter laughs, and I glance at him, wondering what was funny about my statement. With a smile, he glances at me briefly before settling his gaze back on the road.

"What?" I question, my brow furrowed in confusion.

He keeps smiling as he says, "It's just good to know I'm not the only one that doesn't like many people here."

Curiosity bites at me, and before I can stop myself, I say, "But you've only been here a week and everyone here loves you. You have no reason not to dislike anyone." When I let those words slip, I try to redirect the conversation to my point. "Why don't you like the people here?"

I notice the small smirk on his lips from my words as he answers, "It's nothing personal, I guess. I don't like many people."

"Just the trouble makers," I point out, thinking of James and Justin and Wes and Joey.

"The real people," Carter corrects, turning down a side street. "So many people try to be someone they're not so they're liked better. It's all fake." He glances at me and says, "I only like the people who aren't afraid to be real."

I nod silently, not making a move to respond. We drive silently together, the only noise between us being the soft hum of the radio, and I watch the town pass through the window. It wasn't until Carter passed my street that I turned to him and spoke again.

"Carter," I say warily. "You just passed my street."

He nods, then turns down a few streets over. "I know, I have to grab my guitar first. We'll be in and out, I swear."

I just nod as an answer once again, and we pull into a driveway shortly after. I inspect the house from his car, a small smile falling on my lips when I realize that the Miller's are the ones who bought my favorite house in town. It was a modest sized wooden house with light blue shutters and a matching blue railing on the edge of the front porch.

As a kid, I used to ride my bike down this street, past this house. It was the prettiest house in the neighborhood in my opinion, and I've always wanted to see if it was equally as beautiful on the inside. Carter shuts the car off and opens his door, and I glance at him sheepishly, biting my lip as I internally debate whether or not I should ask to come inside.

Eventually, my curiosity wins over, and before he can get out of the car I say, "Carter, can I come inside?"

He looks back at me with wide hazel eyes, looking momentarily shocked at my request. I open my mouth to explain myself, or maybe to retract my words, but before I can do either, he nods.

"Yeah, sure." Carter smiles slowly at me.

I nod, feeling a small sense of excitement bubble up in my stomach as I open the door. As we walk to his front door, I decide that I owe him an explanation, and begin, "I've always loved this house, but I've never gone inside. I just want to see what it's like from the inside."

His smile remains on his face as he murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear, "Kind of seems like fate to me."

My cheeks flush immediately, but Carter opens the front door instead of looking at my reddened face. I shut the door behind me and take a deep breath before turning back around in the hopes that my cheeks were quickly returning to their normal shade, and Carter glances at me.

"My guitar is upstairs," He says, inching toward the staircase. "Feel free to look around. I'll be right back."

Carter starts climbing the beautiful wood staircase before I can reply, and I turn to look around the foyer. There was a rustic table near the door and a bowl with pieces of mail and keys, and three moving boxes beside that. Slowly, I walk into the living room to see large double windows facing the street, and beautiful lavender curtains hanging.

There were still moving boxes scattered about the floor, so I figured that they were still situating in the new house. I turn around and walk through the foyer and into another doorway to reveal a beautiful kitchen with white marble countertops and rustic looking grey cabinets. My jaw drops in awe as the natural light from the large windows illuminates the room perfectly.

"Hello sweetie," A kind voice says from behind me.

I jump ten feet in the air and whip around, my heart hammering against my chest as I stare wide eyed and horrified at the woman behind me. Although she was a stranger with brown hair and beautiful facial features, I knew exactly who she was from her hazel eyes.

"Hi," I croak, and then straighten up. "I didn't know anyone was home."

Amusement flashes across her face as she arches her perfect eyebrow at me and says slowly, "Were you trying to rob us? If so, you aren't doing a very good job."

Her teasing tone calmed me down, and I felt myself loosen up my tensed muscles. I laugh lightly and shake my head. "I'm here with Carter. We have a project for our music class that we're going to work on, but he had to get his guitar."

She nods in understanding as she floats toward the counter. "Well in that case, please sit! It's nice to meet someone who isn't here to rob me."

We laugh together and I sit at the counter as she bends down to check the oven, and as she opens it a wave of fresh baked cookies hits my nose. I immediately perk up as she pulls out a tray of chocolate chip cookies and places them on the stove to cool, and she turns around to smile at me.

"I hope you like cookies," Mrs. Miller announces. "I doubled the batch without realizing how many were going to come out of it."

I can practically feel myself beginning to salivate as I answer quickly, "I'll gladly help you eat them, don't worry."

She laughs this time, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good." Mrs. Miller leans against the counter to look at me as her eyes widen slightly. "Oh, dear, how rude of me. I haven't even properly introduced myself. I'm Layla, Carter's mother."

I match her warm smile and introduce, "I'm Amelia. It's nice to meet you, Layla."

Her smile drops the second I say my name and her eyes widen even more. Slowly, she leans forward and repeats, "Amelia?"