I wanted to keep my eyes on him for as long as I could, so I only ran off to class once Orson was out of sight. The math teacher kept us a bit longer because he still had some things to explain. Which meant that I had to rush like a crazy person to the next class, the one I hate the most, history class. Which also happens to be the only class Quincey and I have together. There's just one good thing about it. It's just before lunch, so all the the way through, that's the only hope we all hang on to. After this, it's lunch time.

"Miss Dugray," the history teacher groaned as I entered hurriedly. "You're almost late."

"I'm sorry Miss Jenkins," I apologized out of breath.

She looked at me up and down, then rolled her eyes. She has singled me out ever since I entered this school. I don't know why. She's just a frustrated single 29 year old woman. Who for the record, and I'm not making this up, has a huge crush on Quincey. He is a year older than the rest of us, he's 19, but it's still wrong. Plus, I don't understand why she had to be our history teacher again this year.

"Just go to your seat," she grunted like a cave woman.

"Yes Miss Jenkins," I replied with fake politeness.

It was the first class with her after summer break, and she was already uptight. Quincey calmly walked in ten minutes after the class started. Of course he didn't get scolded or nothing. In fact, she asked him if he had fun during the holidays. She openly gawks at him, it's ridiculous.

I usually make sure to sit as far away from Quincey, as I possibly can. But that day, the only seat available when he came in, was the one in front of me. I was sitting next to the window, fortunately Miss Jenkins was human enough to allow us to leave it open and let the summer breeze come in.

As the boring class went on, I looked outside the window and noticed a white dandelion petal dancing to the beautiful melody of the wind. Flowers and dandelions are one of my favorite things about summer. I smiled as I watched it go up and down, doing it's own thing. The whistle of the breeze slowly faded after guiding the petal through the window of the class room. I watched the dandelion as it span around one last time before laying on Quincey's shoulder.

My hand absentmindedly stretched out to pick it up, but I couldn't reach it. Miss Jenkins was talking and writing something on the white board, she had her back to the class. So I got off my seat a bit, and leaned forward to pick the dandelion petal off Quincey's shoulder. I intended to pick it without him noticing. But I stumbled a bit. As soon as my hand made contact with his shoulder, he turned around to look at me, and I froze.

"Ah...Um...," I stuttered not looking away from his eyes, my hand still resting on his shoulder.

The normal thing for him to ask would have been "What are you doing?" or "What is it?" However, he didn't say a thing, he seemed a bit surprised at first, but then he just stared.

Do I have something on my face? I thought.

I felt the light wind blow in my hair, making some strands fall over my eyes, but I didn't have the reflex to put them back in place. Quincey had done that thing with his eyes again. Just like always, I wasn't able to read the expression in them, even though whenever he had that intensity in his gaze, I had the impression he was saying something.

It was the same penetrating expression he had when he stared at me earlier that day, after I casually called him a "chronic latecomer". I'm still unsure as to what he was thinking. Was it because we hadn't seen each other at all during summer holidays? I mean, I know it's not like he missed me or anything. So was he reminding himself of what I look like? I don't know, things are sometimes weird with Quincey. He was doing the same thing in class, his unwavering blue eyes had locked me in, but I wasn't about to let myself slip away in them again... Never again.

I slightly shook my head, then sat back down, and showed him the dandelion petal.

"This... er... this was on your shoulder."

He finally stopped looking at me to set his eyes on the petal I held between my thumb and my index finger. He leaned his back on his chair and rocked it, until it touched my table. Then using his left arm to lean on the table, he held my wrist with his right hand, and gently pulled me closer to him. Once I was leaned forward, he moved up from my wrist to cup my hand in his. He slightly tilted his head, and proceeded to examine either my hand or the petal, I'm not sure, but I bet on the petal.

What's he so amazed about? I thought, trying to ignore the soothing warmth that was emanating from him. It's just a... dandelion pe... my inner voice trailed off disconcerted by the docile squeeze I felt on my hand.

Was it my imagination? It felt weird to have his hand wrapped around mine. He looked back at me after what seemed like forever. Imprisoning my eyes in his again, he hooked his index finger around the top of mine, separating it from my thumb, to free the petal. But as my eyes were still stubbornly stuck to his, I didn't bother to watch the dandelion dance away in perfect sync with the melody of the wind. Because at that moment, Quincey had managed to reel me in, and once again make me forget my firm resolution. I don't know how to explain. The thing is, there's something in Quincey's gaze, something I avoided like the plague.

"Miss Dugray!"

I flinched at the sound of Miss Jenkins' horrible voice calling my name.