Page 1 of Lassoed Love

Prologue

High school isa peculiar blend of chaos and routine, full of surprises and kangaroo-sized dramas.

I sling my backpack over one shoulder, trying to navigate the crowded hallways of Springbrook Creek High School. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker, casting a harsh glow on the sea of students.

At fifteen, high school is proving to be a maze of challenges, but none more daunting than the daily trek through these hallways. A ripple of whispers and laughter sweeps through the hallway. I glance up to look ahead of me as I continue to walk and involuntarily lock eyes with him—Xavier Mitchell. The guy every girl dreams about, the star of the touch football team, and the unattainable senior. Tall, athletic, and perpetually surrounded by an aura of popularity, he walks as if he owns the joint. His entourage included Trent Oldman, whose ‘charming’ smile was the envy of every Year 12 girl, Jake Samuels, Brody Hunt and Kieran—whose last name I don’t care enough to know—who is knownto have a penchant for teasing and usually the instigator.

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as they approach, but I keep my gaze straight ahead. Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll disappear. Lies.

“Oi, Isla!” Kieran’s voice echoes down the corridor. My heart sinks, somehow just knowing what is coming next.

“Are you auditioning for the role of the school nun with that skirt?” he jeers, the words dripping with sarcasm. The other two join in, their laughter echoing off the lockers.

Girls around here like to roll their skirts up, making them practically non-existent. Bend over, and it’s like a free show. The thought repulses me—it’s just not my style. I’ve never been one to follow trends or ‘willingly’ bring attention to myself. Just when I think it can’t get worse, Xavier chimes in with a comment of his own, “At least she’s dressed modest,” he says with a smirk. It’s not as harsh as Kieran’s, but it still stings. My face flares up with embarrassment, but no way am I giving those idiots the satisfaction. Sticking the finger up at him, I hustle toward the classroom, completely ignoring their dumb comments. Imogen spotting me from the back of the classroom, shoots me a concerned look, probably noticing my expression, as I slip into my seat next to her.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Nothing, don't worry,” I reply softly, shrugging it off. I glance around the classroom, anxiously checking to see if anyone had heard the comment made whilst walking in, but they seem oblivious. Thank God.

“Don’t tell me it was those idiots again?” she whispers.

“It’s okay, nothing I can’t handle,” I say with a smile that doesn't quite meet my eyes.

“One day, those wankers are going to get it, I swear. Karma is nothing but a bad bitch.” I just laugh at this, and nod—hoping Imogen's words are true.

I settle myself in, determined to let the embarrassment roll off my back. As I do, my mind, ever the traitorous cow, can’t help but drift back to those boys, wondering why they always pick on me—to be fair, they pick on everyone—those stupid pricks. But I wonder why me? Xavier is very easy on the eyes, something I’ve always noticed about him. I know he’s older, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering what it would actually be like to be friends with him if he wasn’t such a dickwad.

Every girl just froths over him, and his reputation precedes him for messing around with both senior AND junior girls in my grade. Ugh. I just don’t understand why.

Lunchtime rolls around at about 1:30pm, and Claire, Imogen, and I snag our usual spot outside in the playground. We're chatting away about the latest whatever when I spot those guys again, lingering near the bathrooms just a bit further down from where we’re seated. This time, there are two more boys added to the mix. Seriously, do they live near the bathrooms or something? They always seem to be there. What, like you notice? Shut up.

Imogen’s eyes lightup with excitement as she suggests, “Hey, we should totally hang out this weekend and watch that new rom-com movie. I heard Maddie talking about it in science. She spent half the lesson going on about how she hooked up with some guy in Year 11, bleh. Anyway, what do you girls think?”

Claire and I exchange glances before she says, “Of course she was. She’s become a little ganga lately, aye? I heard she also effed Kieran at Trent’s party last weekend. Bleh.” She sticks her finger in her mouth and gags, then nods enthusiastically, “But, yes! That sounds fun!” Imogen laughs and then turns to me, waiting for my reply.

“Yeah, sounds fun! I’ll just need to check with mum, but I’m in."

Imogen grins. “Alright, mad! It's a plan, then. Movie night this Sat!”

As we continue discussing our weekend plans, I sneak another glance over at the guys near the bathrooms. I can't resist. It’s like this weird magnetic pull, something I can’t explain. Don’t judge; we’ve all been there. As I glance up, I notice Xavier is now looking straight at me. Shit—what? Panic mode sets in, and I'm trying to act all casual, like I wasn’t just caught staring. Smooth, Isla, real smooth.

Imogen elbows me, somehow catching on. “Hey, why is Xavier staring at you?”

“What? No way. He’s probably looking at someone behind me or something,” I mumble, desperately trying to play it off.

Just then Claire chimes in, “Uh, guys! He’s walking over here,” as she notices Xavier heading our way. My heart skips a beat. No. No way—now internally freaking out. Why is he coming over here? Did he catchme looking at him? Fucking hell, silently cursing at my curiosity.

Xavier, with his effortless coolness, approaches. “Hi,” he says, giving that killer smile—showing a row full of perfectly straight white teeth—that makes my stomach do somersaults, and I hate myself for it.

“Uh, hey,” I manage to squeak out, pretending I'm not internally hyperventilating.

Imogen and Claire exchange wide-eyed glances, probably sensing the internal chaos within me.

His green eyes are like laser beams as they lock on to mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Uh, did you happen to see a small black Nike bag in Mr. Ferguson’s class last period? I was in there this morning, and I think I left it there.”

How did he know I was in Mr. Ferguson’s classroom last period?

Suddenly I forget how to speak. I somehow miraculously manage to stammer out a response. “Uh, I don’t think so. Sorry,” I say as I wince. “Maybe go back to the classroom and have another look around. It’ll pop up somewhere.”

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