I stare dumb founded, my mouth hung open unattractively. Brody Baxter is in front of me, inches away.

The Brody Baxter.

Brody transferred to Heywood High a year ago after moving from down South. The first week he started, he became immediately sucked in with the populars. From the word go, Brody was an instant hit with every pupil and every teacher. He made them laugh until their sides hurt, standing back proudly with a smirk on his face. He never failed to receive anything below an A in every single subject.

Within a month or two of starting Heywood High, Brody moved up the school hierarchy system and became one of the most popular boys. He's captain of the football, cricket and cross country team.

Heywood High's perfectly perfect pupil.

I stood in the shadows whilst the hype around Brody grew within the school. His dark brown, almost black hair that he never styled but always fell perfectly. It would occasionally flop over his forehead and he'd run his hand through the thick strands, pushing it back whilst every girl in school stopped, stared and drooled. I listened to numerous conversations focused around the beauty of his bright green eyes, how enticing and charming they are. Even I couldn't deny the beauty of his features.

Brody always appeared older than his age, his entire presence screaming maturity. The fact that he's almost over 6ft doesn't help his ever growing fan base of teenage girls. I don't know him very well but he always appears friendly to everyone he crosses paths with. Other than a few rumours, no-one knows Brody Baxter well, not even his closest friends in school. No-one knows anything about his family or his past which makes him one of the school's biggest mysteries. On the surface he's a stereotypical popular boy however the more attention you focus on Brody, the more the pile of questions grow.

He's never once had a girlfriend much to the despair of every single female in Heywood High. Now I have the dream boy stood in front of me, asking me if I'm okay. Holy smokin' cow.

Up close it became so obvious why a person pauses and stares whenever Brody is around. His eyes can instantly stop you in your tracks as you become hypnotised from the intensity of them. Looking into them now, the green holds small flecks of gold and I stare harder, scrutinising how enchanting they are. My eyes fall, lingering on his distinct cheekbones and the stubble along his angular jaw.

My God, this man is beautiful.

"Are you okay?" Brody asks me again, his eyebrow arching higher as he speaks. It takes me a few moments to realise he's talking to me. Me. Not just talking to me, he asked me a question which means I have to answer it. My eyes widen a little and I instantly feel my body heat up becoming clammy with nerves. I grip on to my other hand, fiddling with my fingers and my eyes drop to the floor. I open my mouth to reply but no sound comes out.

Great job Bella, act like the mute you are.

I mentally scold myself, battling with the simple task of speaking. My eyebrows knit together closely in frustration —

"S-sorry," I choke out, gripping onto my bag tightly before dodging out of his way and speed walking down the corridor. A waft of his cologne hits me as I brush past him and I feel my head go light headed and woozy. Along with looking like a Greek God, Brody Baxter smells absolutely heavenly. The embarrassment from my reaction to him burns deeply and I hang my head in shame.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I mutter to myself, swallowing the thick lump in my throat. My entire body is heating up in embarrassment and right now all I want to do is get the hell out of here.

"I'm such an idiot." I add, feeling my eyes fill up with unshed tears. I force my legs to walk faster away from Brody and out of the corridor despite the burning sensation I can already feel in them. My side continues to throb from colliding with the wall but my pride is equally as bruised.

I push open the double doors, squinting as the sunlight streaming through the windows greets me. I'm supposed to be heading towards the Language department however my feet have a mind of their own. They immediately turn left, heading straight for the school doors. As I approach them, I feel a single tear escape from my eye running down my cheek.

It isn't fair, I don't want to be like this.

I didn't choose to be like this.

I can't help but worry that I'll spend the rest of my life being a socially awkward mute who has no friends, no life.

The stabs of pain in my heart grow stronger and I begin to run through the empty streets, further and further away from Heywood High.