Haven Read Free Page A

rectangle on the map, then drew a line from what must be the dorms to the circled building. “There you go,” she said, handing it back to me. “After that, you’re on your own. Your classes are all more advanced than mine. But I’ll save you a seat in the dining hall at lunch, okay?”
    “That’d be great. Will I get lost trying to find my way there?”
    “Nope. Just follow the hungry crowd.”
    “Gotcha.”
    Grinning, she stuffed some notebooks into a pale pink backpack. “I just know you’re going to love it here,” she said, pausing by the doorway.
    God, I hoped she was right.

2 ~ The Eyes Have It
    T aking a deep, fortifying breath, I stepped into the classroom, my schedule still clutched in one clammy hand. Left and right, kids elbowed past me and took their seats. I glanced down at the page I held, reminding myself that it was totally normal to be a little nervous. New school, new kids . . . it was going to take some getting used to. Corridor A, my schedule said. Room 312. This was it. My gaze shot back up, toward the rows of seats before me.
    And then I saw him. Second row, third seat back. Gorgeous eyes. He looked at me strangely, as if he were surprised to see me, a steady gaze beneath a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. Whoever he was, he was watching me so intentlythat I could barely breathe. For the briefest of moments I felt a flicker of fear. The hum of voices receded and all I could hear was the steady pounding of my own heart. My schedule slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the ground beside my feet in slow, swooping arcs.
    Great
. I hadn’t even been at Winterhaven a full twenty-four hours and already I was making an idiot of myself. My cheeks burning, I knelt to retrieve the page. And then they were there, not inches from my face—those eyes. Not quite blue, but not quite gray, either.
    “I think you dropped this,” he said, completely derailing my train of thought. My gosh, that voice . . . deep and soft, with the hint of an accent. British, maybe? I was definitely a sucker for accents.
    My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the rumpled page he held in his outstretched hand. For some unknown reason, I took a step back, wanting to increase the distance between us. Reluctantly, I raised my gaze to meet his.
    The first thing I noticed was that his face was pale, his skin perfect except for dark smudges beneath his eyes. His lips were full, his nose slightly crooked, as if it had been broken years ago and not quite set right. Beneath the baseball cap, wavy golden-blond hair peeked out, curling against his collar. And his eyes . . . I forcibly suppressed a sigh. More blue thangray, I realized, with thick, dark eyelashes. Most girls would kill for eyelashes like that.
    My mouth went dry. I cleared my throat, afraid that if I met his stare I’d never be able to look away. “Thanks,” I managed to say, holding out one trembling hand for my schedule.
    He placed it in my palm, somehow managing to brush my fingers with his own. “I’m Aidan Gray,” he said. “Welcome to Winterhaven.”
    Before I even had a chance to reply, he was gone, slipping back through the aisles to his seat. Shaking my head, I found an empty seat in the front row and set my bag down beside the desk.
    Sliding into the molded plastic seat, I pulled out a notebook and pen from my bag, keeping my gaze fixed on my desk while the whispers buzzed around me.
    Aidan Gray
. I fought the urge to say it aloud, to hear it slip off my own tongue. My God, I was losing my mind. Either that, or I’d suddenly become really shallow. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
    I looked up just as a tall, balding man in a tweed jacket strode in, carrying a briefcase and whistling to himself. The teacher. At least I hoped he was, because another few minutes of sitting there waiting for class to start and I was sure to turn around and look for
him.
Aidan Gray.
    The room got silent as the man in tweed took his place behind the desk, looking