She groaned and rolled over at the shrill sound of her alarm. It was six AM. On her first day of school, her senior year, at Chilton Academy. She untangled her legs precariously from the 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and padded across the wooden floors to her adjoined bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she was showered and dressed in her hemmed uniform skirt and polo with a pair of worn Chucks. She looked tired, worn, as she stared at herself in the mirror. Being a Hayden was hard. She frowned a little, smearing lip gloss on her lips with a finger and smiled a fake smile brightly, too brightly, in the mirror.
"Honey," her mother entered her daughter's room to see her sitting at her white vanity table. "You're going to be late. It's almost 7:30."
Her eyes shot to the clock. She had been sitting there for over an hour. She didn't even remember what she did while she was sitting there.
"Why am I going here again?"
"Rory," Lorelai sighed, "Your father and I both went here. That, and we don't like you being at boarding school. You're too far away. We talked about this."
"Though, I should warn you, there's a Huntzberger there. Do not interact. Okay? It's an unspoken rule that Haydens and the Huntzbergers do not interact. You know what'll happen."
"Hell?" she guessed.
"Without any oompa loompas."
"I know." She pulled her daughter up off the vanity stool and pushed her out her bedroom door, picking up her backpack on the way out. "Now, get going. This is the ninth circle of hell, and the devil doesn't like tardiness."
"How lovely. I'm excited now," she said sarcastically.
"Bye, babe." Rory rolled her eyes at her mother's "concern". It was a well-known fact she didn't like her job as a trophy wife. She gave up a life of freedom because why? She was pregnant at the age of sixteen? Then she shipped her daughter off to boarding school for the first twelve years of her schooling. Needless to say, they didn't have a close relationship.
Rory climbed into her BMW in the garage and carefully backed out of the Hayden mansion driveway.
The outside of Chilton Academy looked exactly like her old high school in Europe, just without the extra dormitories. She sighed heavily as she grabbed her messenger bag from the backseat, hoping the day would get over with soon and she wouldn't run into this Huntzberger.
"Dude," Logan Huntzberger's friend, Tom, punched him lightly on the arm as he sat down at the crowded "popular" lunch table. "Did you see that new girl? Talk about hot."
"Like she'd ever go for you," Logan replied.
He laughed, "No, but Katrina's in the bag." He talked about his recent bedmate like a sort of victory. "But seriously, have you seen her? Look, there." He pointed to the cafeteria doors as they pulled open, Rory Hayden walking through shyly.
She had her iPod on, headphones plugged in, and her bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder. The ideal picture of not caring. Logan's gaze lingered longer than necessary on her, almost blinking a few times to clear his head. He had found her, his new conquest.
"Don't even think about it," Tom said. "She's way out of your reach, even for you, Huntzberger."
"No ones out of my reach."
"She is. Believe me."
He watched her sit down at a back table and pull out a book. She turned his direction, almost like she felt him watching her, and she raised an eyebrow. He smirked and gave an acknowledging nod. Her eyes narrowed and she stood back up before walking back out the doors she had just entered.
"We'll see," Logan concluded, ending their conversation.
The final bell rang, and she tried to remember the way to her locker. She stepped into the large hallway and turned each way trying to figure out where she even was. The school was too big for her liking, gave too much homework for her liking, and had too many stuck up rich assholes for her liking.
She had been harassed the whole day for her sudden appearance from boarding school, been dubbed "Mary" by some fuckhead in her AP Chemistry class named Tristan, and had been hit on by more horny teenage boys than she could count, nor care to remember.
It had not been a good day.
She turned the corner, the one she thought maybe was the right way to her locker and ran head-on into something, or someone, more accurately.
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, bending down to get her books that had fallen.
He had picked up her fallen iPod and handed it to her with a smirk, "No problem."
She gave a small smile and sidestepped him and continued on her way. "Hey," he called. "You're new here, right?"
She nodded, "Yeah."
"I'm Logan Huntzberger."
Her eyes narrowed and face paled, "Because today couldn't get any worse."
"I'm sorry?" He cocked his head to the side.
"I should go," she said.
"Hey, what's your name." It wasn't a request, but a command.
She slowly turned, hoisting her bag on her shoulder and took a deep breath. "Rory Hayden."
"Yep, we're next door neighbors, our families hate each other, just like we're expected to."
He was silent with a quiet anger bubbling behind his eyes. Not anger to her, per se, but his family, her family. Their families. It was only brought up when necessary, only spoken about during heated arguments, used as ammunition against one another.
She took in his visage, chocolate eyes and blonde hair and smiled slightly. He looked like the pictures she had seen from the early years when they were once friends. So long ago, no older than two.
She turned back around, he didn't say anything or call her back, and walked out of school, not even bothering to find her locker.