1. Gold + Gifts

"Damn it," I exhale under my breath. I struggle to get a grip on my belongings as brown droplets of coffee splash onto my sweater. Awesome.

I readjust my backpack, while managing to keep hold of my gym bag, phone, coffee cup and still closing the car door.

"A little help?" I growl at my brother, Haven, who is looking at me from the driver's side with an annoying smirk.

"Nah, I think you're doing great, sis!" He flashes me a deviant smile, slings his leather jacket over his shoulder and heads off. As he walks past the cars in the student parking lot, two girls just so happen to pop out of their shining, expensive vehicles and make their way toward the school with him. What a coincidence.

Haven is a year older than myself, he's a senior. He's also the star forward for Goldcrest High School's undefeated soccer team - one of the best in Northern California - and is something of a heartthrob. With big green eyes, olive skin, thick blonde hair and an attitude even bigger than his large biceps, it seemed like almost every girl (and a healthy handful of guys) wanted to be his - even if they were already in a relationship.

Even though it's only the beginning of September, this Monday morning is a chilly one in Goldcrest, California and I'm extremely grateful for the coffee that's keeping my insides toasty.

I make my way inside the high school, happy to escape the cool morning wind. I trudge to my locker, passing hundreds of students. The hallways are buzzing with excitement and the students' faces are alight with the hope of a new start. It's the first day.

Even though I only had about four hours of sleep last night, I can still admit that the flurry of the first day is intoxicating. The thrill of a new year, new classes, new people and new opportunities can truly lift even the darkest spirit.

Goldcrest High School, proud home of the Eagles, is huge. There are over 3,000 high schoolers that go here, so it's very easy to blend in and fly under the radar, which is my preference. I've never understood the allure of popularity, being known by many and having tons of friends. I have Presley, my best friend, whom I trust completely and enjoy being with more than almost anything. That's honestly enough for me. Besides, it's not like I have time for tons of friends - between taking Advanced Placement classes, playing for the girl's soccer team and running my business, I can barely keep track of myself, let alone handfuls of friends.

I finally reach my locker, the same one I've had for the past two years, and stuff my gym bag, books and jacket inside. I grab my AP Biology book for first period and check my phone, realizing that I still have about 15 minutes before the bell rings.

I dash into the bathroom to attempt to get some of this coffee out of my sweater before it settles and stains. Thanks, bro.

Wetting the coffee spot under the sink, I don't even attempt to hide my annoyance. This was a new shirt. I manage to get the brown liquid out and step back to look at myself in the mirror - despite the large wet spot, which will dry soon, I still look decent, especially considering I woke up late this morning and only had time to pull my hair into a bun, dab some nude shimmer onto my eyelids and put a couple swipes of mascara on. I had hoped to put a bit more effort into my appearance, especially for the first day, but I don't look too terribly bad, so that's good.

I'm wearing an oversized nude knit sweater, dark skinny jeans, tan ankle boots and, since I didn't have time for contacts this morning, my glasses. At the last minute, I had grabbed some pearl stud earrings and a knock-off golden Michael Kors watch from my jewelry box.

All things considered, it wasn't half bad. My blonde hair played nicely with the shimmer on my lids and the warm tones of the sweater, boots and watch. My skin even looked extra olive-y after a summer in the sun. I could deal with this.

Taking a swig of coffee, I check my vibrating phone and see that I have a text from my best friend, Presley.

I can't help but giggle. Yesterday was Presley's seventeenth birthday, and we had spent most of the evening bar hopping, hoping some guys would buy us drinks. We were able to get three drinks purchased for us, but I had gone home around 1am, as I didn't want to be completely out of commission for the first day of our junior year. Presley, however, had continued the party without me, insisting that she had to get as much fun out of her system as she could in order to focus on her schoolwork this year. I'm proud of her for wanting to focus, but I'd honestly be shocked if she made it two weeks without going to a party.

I smile at my phone and grab my textbook, heading toward Presley's locker to deliver her the delicious hangover cure called coffee.

As I round the final corner before Presley's locker, a huge, hard figure smashes into me, knocking me off balance and causing what remains of my coffee to spill down the front of my sweater. Of course.

"What the hell?!" I shoot out of my mouth as I tumble backwards, catching myself on the wall before I can humiliate myself even more by busting on my ass.

I scoop up my coffee cup and textbook, looking up at my assailant with fire in my eyes.

Oh.

It's him.

A pair of brown eyes stare back at me, full of surprise and something else I can't quite place.

Jayce Solis.

He's the goalkeeper for our guy's soccer team and a senior with my brother. Jayce's tanned skin, glowing white teeth, perfectly muscled build and sharp jawline make him look like something out of a damn magazine.

But apparently he's conceited, big-headed and a bit of a man whore.

"I am so sorry," he ruffles his hand through his brown hair, looking guilty and excessively handsome. "That was totally my fault, I should have been more careful."

His stare alone is enough to make anyone go weak at the knees, but I stand strong, not wanting to give him even a hint of satisfaction as he flashes me a seemingly sweet, apologetic smile. Based on what I've heard from Presley, he gets whatever he wants, especially from women, and I sure as hell don't want him to think I'm even the slightest bit flustered by his presence.

Even though I totally am. Shit.

"You're damn right you should've been careful," I say, doing my best to keep eye contact and willing my cheeks to not turn pink.

He smirks as he slowly looks me up and down. His stare makes me want to straighten my glasses and make sure my hair is neat, but I resist. I am not trying to impress this guy.

I notice two of his teammates flanking him and they both look like bodyguards with their athletic figures and annoying half-smiles. They're both good looking, but standing next to Jayce, they pale in comparison.

He's wearing a white v-neck tee shirt that is dangerously tight over his broad shoulders and strong arms, like it might rip if he moved too fast. Black jeans rest low on his hips and his sneakers are bright red and metallic gold - our school colors. How fucking spirited.

His bronze skin crinkles around his eyes as he looks at me, his deepening smile causing my betraying heart to speed up. He has a really nice smile, even if it is the same smile that I'm sure has lured a long string of girls into his bed.

My voice is flat and unimpressed as I look up at him, jabbing my pointer finger in his direction, "You ruined my shirt."

"Yeah, I guess I did," he says with a cheeky glint forming in his brown eyes. "I have a clean practice jersey in my locker if you want it. You'd have to let me help you get changed into it, though." An arrogant smile plasters his face and he suggestively raises his eyebrows as dumb and dumber snicker from behind him, hitting his shoulders as if to say good one.

"No thanks," I stand my ground, glaring at him with a bored voice. "It'd be too stretched out from fitting over your big head." I happily register the slightly shocked expression that lasted for a brief second before I shove past him, his friends howling at my weak ass come-back.

He's probably surprised I didn't jump at the chance to take my shirt off in front of him. What is it about popular, sporty guys that makes them believe every girl automatically wants to get naked with them? Ugh. Disgusting.

He's handsome, I'll admit that much. However, there's a big difference between appreciating a nice race horse and actually riding it.

I reach Presley's locker to find her staring at me excitedly. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Jayce and his friends had already continued around the corner and were safely out of earshot. I knew what was about to happen, as Presley had clearly seen the whole thing.

"Fallon! You know that was Jayce Solis, right?" She chortles in obviously in awe.

"I know."

"You just talked to Jayce Solis!" Her voice is more of a squeal than anything.

"I know."

"Jayce Solis just talked to you!" She is quite literally bouncing by now, her jet black mane bouncing right along with her.

"No, he nearly trampled me, and ruined my sweater," I gesture toward the unfortunately large coffee stain running down the front of me. "And he spilled your hangover cure."

This seems to settle her down a bit.

Presley is a stunning Mexican girl. She has a huge mane of curly, jet black hair, beautiful brown eyes and glorious skin. It's no small wonder that she's a heartbreaker - she's the most gorgeous girl I know, and she isn't fond of relationships, similar to myself. She's a cheerleader and is much more social than me, but I'm her best friend. The guys and girls she parties with aren't so much her friends as they are what she calls her 'drunk buddies.'

Presley's wicked smart, but would rather spend her evenings having fun than keeping her marks up. We met in fifth grade and have been inseparable ever since. The only reason I know anything about anyone at Goldcrest is because she's a shameless gossip and loves filling me in on anything and everything she hears. She's been on our school cheer team for as long as I've known her, so she has access to approximately infinite knowledge about the going-ons of the student body.

"Oh, right," she says, looking sadly at the now empty coffee cup in my hand. "But still!" She perks up again, "The fact that you just slammed into Jayce Solis and exchanged actual words with him is enough to cure more than a hangover!" She slams her locker shut and smacks a very theatrical kiss on my check, skipping down the hall and shouting over her shoulder, "See you at lunch!"

I wipe her sticky lip gloss off my cheek and groan, wishing she didn't have to regard him as if he's a fucking celebrity. But I still chuckle at her completely misplaced enthusiasm as I head towards first period, forcing myself to shove the school's most cocky, renowned ladies' man out of my head.

~

By the time junior lunch rolls around, I'm totally starved. I walk towards the quad and take a deep breath of fresh air when my skin is bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The morning chill had been chased away by sunny skies and a perfect temperature. It is heaven.

The quad is my favorite part of Goldcrest High School. Lush green grass is spotted with picnic tables and groups of students basking in the shining afternoon sun. Red and yellow flowers pepper the bushes along the edges of the courtyard, and I can smell the crispness of the approaching fall on the brisk breeze.

I quickly spot Presley at the opposite side of the quad. As I slide onto the sun-warmed wooden bench across the table from her, she takes a sip of her iced tea and folds her hands, giving me her best attempt at a serious look.

"You changed your shirt," she remarks, giving me a sideways glance. "Trying to draw the attention of a certain goalie, are we?"

I laugh and shake my head at her. Luckily for me, I had a kid's birthday party scheduled right after school today and had to bring my Moana costume with me, hence the gym bag that had caused my initial coffee spill in the parking lot this morning.

So now, I had on a red and maroon, tribal-patterned tube top with my jeans. I feel like I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, but I'm grateful I have a shirt to change into at all.

It's for my business, which is called Party Princess. I started it in 8th grade when a costume store in town had a huge after-Halloween sale. Don't ask me why, but I loved the idea of getting to be someone else for a few hours, even if that someone was a cartoon character. The best part is making the kids happy, except the ones that are spoiled brats and scream at their parents. Those ones I have a hard time with.

That aside, since I'm a one-woman show, I make a pretty penny doing it. Nothing too crazy, but it sure beats making minimum wage at a food joint, my hours being dictated by some boss who likes me this week and could hate me the next. Birthdays, graduations, slumber parties... You name it, I've probably done it.

"I don't give a shit about his attention," I laugh, digging into the salad Presley had snagged for me. I wish she would drop this Jayce obsession - which has only gotten bigger since this morning - but I knew the odds of that were even worse than winning the lottery. "So, how's your first day of junior year?"

"Awful," Presley sighs and places her head on the table.

"What? Why?" I pop open a Peace Tea and take a long sip of the refreshingly cool drink.

"My head is pounding, I already have an essay assignment due next week and a guy from last night won't stop texting me about how much he loves me," she groans dramatically, lazily propping up her head on her hand and sifting through her salad with a white plastic fork.

"I thought I had cured your hangover?!" I gasp and place my hand on my heart for dramatic effect. She brightens slightly at this, but still doesn't look up from her salad. She's never this quiet, even when she's tired and hungover.

A dark feeling suddenly grips me, "What happened last night after I left?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

Tears well up in her eyes. She lets out a big sigh and mumbles, her words barely audible, "I don't want to talk about it."

A fierce protection flares up in my chest. "Did someone hurt you? I swear to God, Presley, did someone do something to you?" I reach across the table and grab her hand, willing her to have the courage to tell me the truth.

If something happened to her...

She lets out a tired laugh. "No, no. It's nothing like that. It was mutual." My grip releases at those words. Thank God. "It's just..." She takes a deep breath, mustering her strength. "I might've, possibly, slept with—"

She suddenly snaps her head up and stares over my head with wide big brown eyes, her rosy lips slightly parted.

"Hey," a deep voice rings out from behind me. The one and only Jayce Solis slides onto the picnic table bench next to me, wearing an expression that's colored with mischief.

My eyes narrow at his arrogant aura. "What do you want?" I demand, crossing my arms and feeling as though I'm about to get pranked.

A bored look covers his features. "I just wanted to apologize for spilling coffee on your shirt. But what you changed into," he glances down at my tube top, "makes me happy that I did." A cocky smile plays at his the corners of his lips.

"That's nice," I feel a nervous knot forming in my stomach. "Are you done?"

He raises his eyebrows, clearly taken aback by my sass.

"I-uh-" he clears his throat and reaches into his backpack. He appears puzzled, like he's trying to work out why I'm deflecting his innuendos, as he pulls an Express shopping bag out of his backpack. "Right after we bumped into each other, I skipped first period to get this, to replace the one I ruined. I really am sorry," his apology seems genuine, but I know enough about his reputation to not let it cause any empathy in me.

"Thanks..." I take the bag as if it's going to bite me. What the actual fuck?

I can see Presley's mouth hanging open, her eyes glued to Jayce. Subtle.

Dozens of eyes are on Jayce and I, attempting to figure out why the Jayce Solis is talking to the nobody. I can practically hear the "Who-is-she's" and"What's-going-on's" flying around in their heads. Hell, I don't even know what's going on. Who goes out and buys new clothes for someone they've spoken to once, just because of spilled coffee?

"That was really..." I search for the right word, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of me calling him sweet or nice. "...Unselfish of you." I give him my most obviously fake smile, wishing he'd get the message to go away. I hate that all these people are waiting, watching, hoping to catch something juicy. The knot in my stomach keeps getting bigger and bigger with every passing second.

"What can I say," he shrugs like it's no big deal. A breeze blows the scent of his cologne to my nose - it's a spicy blend of clove and perique that fits him real damn well. I can't help but appreciate the way the sun glints off his golden skin as he leans in close to my ear and says in an enticing voice, "I'm a very giving guy."

There it was. There was that reputation coming out, full throttle.

A stifled laugh bursts out from some girls one table over, who must have been eavesdropping.

"You might not know this," I scowl at him, my words daggers on my tongue, "but your dick belongs in your pants, not your personality."

Jayce laughs loudly, which is the exact opposite reaction I was aiming for. I just keep glaring at him, unsure of how to respond.

"You're funny," he chuckles, his deep brown eyes shining. He leans back with a satisfied smile and runs his hand through his wavy dark hair, his arm muscles bulging with the movement. "See you around," he says smoothly as he swings his legs over the bench and swaggers off.

I turn to Presley, who is watching Jayce walk away with the widest eyes I've ever seen.

After a few moments of incredibly uncomfortable silence, everyone around us returns to their chatter and Presley snaps out of her Jayce-trance, suddenly reaching across the table and smacking my arm as she whispers, "He is so fucking into you!" She keeps hitting my arm, and I can tell she's doing everything she can to not scream.

Now that Jayce has left, the knot in my stomach starts to loosen. "God, can we just not talk about this ever again?" I laugh, thoroughly uncomfortable but trying to appear as though freakishly attractive soccer players presenting me with clothing and making evocative comments is completely normal. I glance around and catch multiple sets of eyes staring at me, probably trying to figure out who I am and why Jayce would spend his breath on me. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Conveniently, the bell rings, signaling the end of junior lunch.

"Thanks for getting me food," I tell Presley, chugging the rest of the Peace Tea and putting the salad container, along with the Express bag, in my backpack. I consider leaving the shopping bad on the table, but decide I would rather be the one to explore the contents, instead of letting some gossip-seeker get their hands on it. "Come over later this evening?"

"Absolutely!" She beams as if she wasn't about to cry just a few moments before a certain brown-eyed goalie sat down with us. "We can pick out names for you and Jayce's children!"

I smack her arm, hoping no one heard her. "Shut up!" I demand from behind clenched teeth.

Ugh. Anything Jayce-related is so not what I was wanting to talk about. But knowing Presley, she's going to talk about it whether I want to or not. We might as well discuss it so we can move on to more important matters, like why she almost started crying as she recalled who she slept with last night.

As I walk toward the school building, I catch Jayce staring at me out of the corner of my eye. He raises a glass bottle of root beer in a 'cheers' fashion, a smirk resting on his lips as he unashamedly studies me. I roll my eyes and barrel through the school doors, refusing to let my mind focus on the egotistical goalkeeper whose eyes I can feel on my backside.

~~~

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