You went to Saint Hilda's, the all girls companion school to New England's shining star, Barton Academy. Now, being a St. Hilda's girl was one thing, but you were the St. Hilda's girl. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect friends. Queen bee.

It was senior year, just before Easter break. It was your—(and Barton's useless head boy, Tommy Carrington)—duty to plan the Spring Fling party, where Barton and St. Hilda's came together. The planning was stressing you out—and you broke the rules for what felt like the millionth time to sneak out for a smoke.

You slipped out of your window and just let yourself walk. Your feet carried you to the little fence separating the St. Hilda's grounds and Barton's. You raised an eyebrow as you spotted a figure, and more importantly, their lighter, leaning against the fence.

He turned to face you, and you relaxed a bit at the familiar face. Angus. Tommy's friend, and a very friendly option of what guy could be lurking alone at night.

"St. Hilda's perfect golden girl, sneaking off. Who woulda thought? Need a light?" he asked, eyes sparkling with humor.