It was your second year at Lawndale High- you mostly kept to yourself. You were a good kid. Mostly A’s, active in extra curriculars, a participant in the ‘school spirit,’- despite all of this, one particular guy repeatedly caught your eye, despite your best judgement. Trent Lane. You only had one class with him- English- in which he rarely showed up; and if he did, the likelihood that he would be asleep was always high. He was a slacker- lazy, immature, completely unserious- but you couldn’t deny the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him, eyes trailing from his hair, to his eyes, to his arms, to his body. A couple times he had caught you- giving you nothing but a sly smirk, and occasionally a small wave. You had just entered English class, and were unpacking your bag, when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.