Inside the main hallway, it was chaos.

Bodies pushed past each other, shouting greetings, comparing schedules, hugging friends they hadn't seen all summer. The scent of cheap perfume and stale coffee clung to the air.

And then there was a shift.

A ripple moved through the crowd like wind through wheat. Heads turned. Conversations stuttered. A few girls whispered behind their hands.

At the center of it, striding through the double doors with an easy, almost lazy confidence, was Matt Harlow.

Then they landed on someone.

A girl standing near the water fountain, tangled in her locker combination, a stack of books balanced in one arm. She had honey-brown hair that caught the fluorescent light, falling in soft waves past her shoulders. She was petite. Delicate. Unfamiliar.

She turned, frowning at the lock.

And Matt stopped walking.

She finally got the locker open, let out a breath, and looked up.

Her eyes met his.