A/N: Not sure if the disclaimer is necessary. If you don't know which characters I don't own, please slap yourself repeatedly. Xx Ella

Chapter 1

My name is Eliza Brennan, I'm 17 years old, and a senior at Spencer's Academy. I've got one friend, yes one, named Cee (short for Cecile, her parents are a bit old fashioned), and she's also my room mate. I never believed in destiny until I met my roommate three years ago. We both walked into the dorm room we would be calling home for the rest of our pathetic high school years, and she opened up a box labeled Heels. In that box, was the most beautiful pair of Italian leathered high heel pumps I had ever seen. We were soul mates. In a straight way of course. Well actually, everyone at school had this idea going on in their heads, that Cee and I were together, like gay together. And I sort of gave them that idea.

"Shut up Eliza or I'll cut up your ugly Prada bag." Reid Garwin, the freshman sex god of Spencer Academy, was holding up a dead frog in one hand and my Prada bag in the other.

"Don't do it!" I cried out. Dissecting frogs was not my idea of science. My idea involved a calculator, a tiny margarita in a cute little frosty glass, and a bottomless shopping cart. "Please don't do it!"

"He's already dead." Reid pushed his arm out, leaving the dead frog dangerously close to my face.

"I was talking about my purse you faggot!" I spat out. I probably should not have insulted him. Because then he wouldn't done what he did.

In a few moments I was screaming at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my face, as I watched my beloved Prada bag (which was new by the way) burn over the counters in my science class. The blonde wonder laughing behind the smell of burnt leather. How I hated that bastard. And I hated him even harder when he held my untouched leather bag up with his right index finger. Words could not describe my anger, towards that man, at that very moment.

And how the hell did he do that?! What the hell was he burning?! "Mr. Garwin! Miss Brennan! What the hell are you doing in my class?" Mrs. Howard, a plump old hag of a science teacher was walking towards us.

"Mr. Garwin" I imitated her New England accent, "said he wanted to burn down the entire school. You should have the boy admitted to a psych ward or something. The sparkle in his eyes when the fire started blazing was not healthy by any means." I smiled smugly. I hated that man called Reid Garwin. Even if he looked delicious in this light.

"That's not true Mrs. Howard" Reid retorted. He looked over at me, and smiled? Yes, he was grinning ear to ear. "We were just about to cut into the abdomen when Miss Brennan decided she wanted to smoke." He held up a cigarette. Ooh, a cigarette. "And as she was lighting up, I was telling her that smoking is bad for the health and stuff and she just didn't listen. Instead she leaned over and lit our notes on fire." He sounded like my five year old cousin, talking about fantasy unicorns and fairies. As a matter of fact, my five year old cousin could come up with a better excuse than he did.

"You don't believe that do you Mrs. Howard. Why the hell would I smoke?" I looked over at Reid who looked amused. I bet he gets off on this sort of thing. That cigarette did look yummy though.

"Both of you. Detention. After school." Mrs. Howard said as she put out the fire.


"Cry baby." Reid greeted, as he took his seat next to me, a few minutes before our detention was to start.

"Pyro faggot." I glared at him.

"What makes you think I'm gay?" He raised an eyebrow and cracked his knuckles through his fingerless gloves. How gross are those? No one wore fingerless gloves since the 1980's!

"You're always hanging around that boy group of yours. Nothing screams queer louder than three boy best friends and a pair of torn up finger-less gloves." Ha! I told him!

"I'm not gay. I've got three best friends that are like brothers to me which isn't gay. And these" He held up his half-gloved hands, "are not worn for fashion. They keep my palms warm."

"Or creates friction when your jacking yourself -"

"Alright! The two of you will be quiet for the next hour. Any 'peep' from either of you and this hour will turn into two. Any objections and this will become a weeklong affair. Your time starts now." Mrs. Howard walked into her classroom, flung her disgusting brown and worn out briefcase onto her desk, and started erasing her chalkboard.

A few minutes into my hell of detention with that smug little blonde brat, a note miraculously appeared in my lap.

Why do you think I'm gay?

Why do you keep asking me that?

I asked you first.

Because you've got a reputation as a playboy, you stick around your friends like your glue, and you smell like Dior's Miss Dior Cherie. No straight man I know smells like that.

So I'm gay because I smell good.

No you're gay because you smell like flowers and lavender. Why do you keep asking me that?

Go out with me tonight.

No thanks.

Oh come on, you'll have fun. I promise.

I'd rather die first.

What? Are you gay?

What if I am? Will you leave me alone then?

No, not at all. But are you?

Love is love Garwin. Don't judge me.

That's really hot.

Figures you'd say something like that. You know, maybe I'm not gay. Maybe I'm just saying that.

So you're bi?

Maybe, maybe not. That's none of your business anyways.

That's really hot. I say, me, you and your roommate meet in my dorm, after detention today.

I say, go to hell.

Yeah, you like that.

"Detentions over. You two may leave." Mrs. Howard dismissed us.

Cee and I both could spend countless hours just gossiping about the school's elite and shopping with our parents credit cards. On the weekends, just for fun, after we shop until we would literally drop, we'll rearrange our closets pushing last season's best (and this season's worst) towards the back. We're a bit quirky, to say the least, but we're also extremely fashionable and look really good when doing so. We're Eliza and Cee. Cee and Eliza. Best friends forever.

I've grown up in old money. My mother never worked a day in her life. My father never had to work either, but chose to at his father's law firm. I had a feeling my father worked to get away from my mother. And since he was away, I grew up as my mother's muse. Her best friend. Her shopping buddy. She taught me everything I know about the basics of shopping. What sale is good, what sale is bad, how to bargain, and those sorts of things. Money has never really been an issue for me.

At the age of eight, I had my very own credit card. At the age of eight and a quarter, I had that credit card maxed out. Even at such that fragile age, I knew that shopping was something extraordinary. Buying something, even if I didn't need it, made me feel happy. It was like crack. And I was a hardcore crack head. It's not the things I buy that really gets me off. It's the feeling I get when I buy them. Sure, I love fashion and stuff, but being able to buy my own Gucci bag is a feeling I'd love to bathe in.

I have over a hundred pairs of Steve Madden's and over sixty-seven pairs of Jimmy Choo's in just my dorm room closet. Gucci, Prada, Armani, were just the everyday men in my life. Scarf's, hats, gloves, kitten heels, peep-toes, wedges, flats, pumps, barrettes, and even a pair of matching couture leg warmers all peek out at me from behind my closet doors. Even with "old money", this stupid boarding school called Spencer's Academy, wouldn't allow a renovation to my dorm room, like the walk in closets for her and her roommate that I had proposed in front of the school board late sophomore year. Bastards. Besides, that's what my room back home is for. All the extra crap I don't need.

Anyways, I live here in Ipswich, Massachusetts, waiting for the day I graduate. Once I do so, in exactly six months, five days, and about four hours (I've never been good at math, unless you count adding in the sales tax) I will be free of this stupid New England town and I'll be making my way towards the City. I'll work as a personal shopper to support myself, probably for some really big designer outlet store, like Saks Fifth Avenue, and I'll meet a lonely yet handsome stock broker that looks identical to Brad Pitt and we'll fall in love. I'll be married in the most extravagant wedding New York City has ever seen. It will make the front page of the New York Times and I'll live happily ever after. Or something like that.


"ELIZA BRENNAN!" Mrs. Howard was leaning over me with her stout and plump frame, her glasses were slipping and now hung only inches away from the tip of her nose. Her breathe smelled of garlic and cinnamon. I wanted to vomit. "Eliza Brennan, I will not have you day dreaming in my class. Detention after school for an hour. I'll see you then." Mrs. Howard still held a grudge against me. Her class had never smelled the same since freshman year. What Reid Garwin had managed to burn up was beyond me. But it still smelled horrible.

I looked around and noticed that I was the only one left in class. The bell must have rung while I was dreaming about this Fall's fashion. By the way, yellow is not the new pink. If anyone ever tells you that, slap them. You'll thank me later.

I walked out of Room 214 hurrying to my next class for the day, US History in room 218. Four rooms down, you'd think these rooms wouldn't be so spread out. But they are. Nearly a mile (okay maybe like a good three hundred feet) later, I made my way into Room 218 and sat down in my seat next to Cee, which happened to be right behind Reid Garwin, Tyler Simms, Pogue Parry, and Caleb Danvers, also known as the Sons of Ipswich. Despite the curriculum, this class was never boring. Reid always seemed to entertain me, whether he wanted to or not.

I smiled as I spat out my gum, and placed it behind Reid's left ear. He squirmed and shot up out of his seat. "What the fuck?!"

"Mr. Garwin, please refrain from using that language in my classroom and please refrain from standing about. I'll see you after school. Detention, of course." Mr. Pennyworth, the US History geek, greeted his class.

I snickered. Reid looked back and gave me the gayest glare I'd ever seen. I leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "You're giving Mr. Pennyworth a run for his money." Everyone knew Mr. Pennyworth was swinging for the other side. Everyone except for Mr. Pennyworth, who kept bragging about his Brazilian supermodel girlfriend. Despite pictures, which I'm 99 percent sure were photoshopped anyways, he wasn't fooling anyone. At least he was a stylish queer. Not like the angry, emo, queer that join a band and sings about eyeliner, while wearing a pair of their sister's skinny jeans. Sorry Pete Wentz. Didn't mean to out you.


Five minutes after my detention let out, I walked with my purple satin pumps (not apart of the dress code but totally should be), towards the front doors of Anderson Hall, to indulge my nicotine craving. Ever since I can remember, seeing women smoke fascinated me. I decided to try one for myself the day after the frog/Prada handbag incident and have been hooked ever since. The way women smoke is illuminating. So delicately, and sexy. That's what I hope I look like when I smoke. Sophisticated, smart, sexy, with witty remarks and a sarcastic sense of humor. Discussing French films and the importance of life itself. Being able to comprehend Nietzsche and Socrates for that matter. Listen to Coldplay and actually like it. Instead, I cough horribly and spit up, sucking in air and perhaps a few bugs, hoping my lungs won't collapse. But I'm determined to like it. Smoking is for the cool people.

I slipped a Camel Light between my lips and started rummaging around my Fendi Spybag, (bag of the day, delicious and ultra-chic) for my lighter. "Jesus Christ," I mumbled outwards. I'm not religious, I don't care if I say the messiah's name in vain. My mother used to get mad at me for saying such things, but that only made me say them more. "God dammit!"

"Need a light?" A mystery, fingerless gloved hand, shot out from nowhere, holding up a now lit lighter.

I looked up and breathed in, inhaling the intoxicating taste of nicotine. Reid was leaning against the building, James Dean style. One leg bent, foot resting on the building, a hand in his pocket. All he needed was a leather jacket and he'd totally be James Dean's blonde twin brother.

"That's not very Catholic of you." He leaned his head back and blew a smoke ring.

"Who said I was Catholic?" I leaned my head back and tried to blow a smoke ring. Instead, I started coughing.

"Damn, that ruined my whole Catholic school girl image I had of you and Cee." Slut. Sexy slut, whose shaggy blonde hair is blowing in the mid-January Massachusetts breeze.

"You are disgusting." I replied.

"You are turned on." He was quick. He was always quick with his replies. It was as if he knew what you were going to say ahead of time, and then thought out his answers.

"Am I?" I smirked and cocked my head while holding his gaze.

"Uh. What?" So maybe my theory was wrong. Reid Garwin wasn't so quick-witted after all.

"You told me I was turned on, so I'm asking you. Am I?" Had I realized I just contradicted myself? No. Would I admit that even if I had realized it? No. So shut up.

"You're weird, you know that?" He let his cancer stick fall from his fingers and used his foot to put it out.

"I prefer quirky. Makes me sound kinky." I flicked my cigarette into the brushes and stood up, pulling my Fendi bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for the light." I said, walking away with an added swagger in my step. I imagined his head turning slightly admiring my ass from afar, but when I turned around, he wasn't there. "What is it with you and detention?" He was walking alongside me now. I screamed slightly out of surprise. Mainly out of fear.

"I've got a think for rebels." I mentally slapped myself the moment I said it. Here, Reid Garwin, Spencer's badass was standing just inches away from me, and I go and say a thing like that. I stopped walking. He didn't look worried at all. He looked amused. Or was it aroused. It was hard to tell the difference.

"You drift off" he said waving his hands in front of my face. It sounded like it could be true. It probably was. "I asked you if you were going to Nicky's later?"

"I am going to Nicky's later. Why?" I answered as I continued walking. These purple heels, satin and beautiful, were just a bit too tight. My feet felt as though they were burning, so I started walking faster. Maybe I should stick to the dress code? Maybe not, have you seen the shoes we're supposed to wear? Hideous!

"Are you going with anyone?" Reid started jogging to keep up with me. My feet were killing me. In a moment or two I wasn't sure if I was going to break off into a marathon style sprint.

"Why do you care if I'm going with anyone or not? Does The Reid Garwin have a little thing for me?" I half teased him. The other half desperately wanted to know if the rumors I had heard were true.

"Oh my gawsh Cee, did you hear about Reid and Teresa breaking up?" Naveed, the biggest school gossip nerd cornered my roommate minutes before first period was about to begin. Naveed had the appearance of a chess club nerd, but she was really just socially awkward. She knew who everyone was, who was hooking up with who, and miraculously had dated Pogue Parry for a week, Freshman year, before he grew three feet, six abs, two balls, and a penis.

"Who didn't see that one coming. Reid only got with her because she was saving herself for marriage. Once he cracked her, which I heard that he did a few nights ago, the break up was bound to happen." She set her binder and math book down on the seat next to her. She was saving that spot for me. I had a tendency to be late to first period, almost every day. I can never figure out what to wear! Even if we have a set uniform. In all honestly, that day, I was still in my dorm room deciding on the Tiffany heart bracelet or the Fossil watch. Sadly, I went with Fossil and regretted it the entire time. What's so interesting about a watch? It wasn't digital so I couldn't read the time anyways. At least with my bracelet, I'm able to watch the sparkle illuminate on the walls. Sometimes the reflection given off would reflect that of a rainbow. I'm not sure why, but I liked it. I wore my Tiffany and Company silver heart bracelet every day since then.

"I heard that Teresa told him she loved him and that she totally wanted to get married to him, and he was like 'No honey, I'm over you' and told her he didn't want anything to do with her." Naveed had a tendency to talk with her hands. Sometimes she looked like she was trying to sign to a deaf kid. "He made her cry and everything."

Cee rolled her eyes. "He does that to every girl. What makes this different?"

Naveed raised an eyebrow. "He happened to break up with her the day after Eliza and Bordy broke up."

Cee leaned in closer. "No way?"

Naveed smiled knowing she had Cee's full attention. "I have a theory that Reid might actually have a thing for our little red-headed friend."

"What?" Reid looked flustered. I stopped walking/jogging and took off my heels. The grass made my feet cool off. I was now adamantly aware of the height difference between Reid and I. He was maybe six feet tall, not even that. I was like 5'5. Maybe not. I told everyone 5'5 because it made me feel taller. I was like 5'3 and a half. Maybe not. I have a tendency to lie sometimes.

"Does Reid Garwin have a crush on me?" I teased him, as I started walking again, with my heels in my hand.

"Reid Garwin doesn't have a crush on anyone." I frowned. That's not the answer I wanted to hear. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Why is Reid Garwin referring to himself in the third person?" I opened the doors to Spencer's co-ed dorm halls.

"I was mocking you." He sounded annoyed and walked in. I followed.

"I think I hit a nerve." I hit the up button on the elevator doors. We waited in silence. After what had seemed like eternity, the doors flew open and out walked Kira Snyder hand in hand with her new boyfriend Aaron Abbot, and tagging behind those two were Ryan Bael, and my ex-boyfriend Bordy Becklin.

"Hi Eliza." Ryan called as the group walked by us. Ryan was never the intelligent one. I think he ate paint chips when he was younger. Lead-infused paint chips.

"Hey Ryan." I said, walking into the empty elevator, followed by Reid. I looked over my shoulder and saw Bordy turn back around. I missed him. Tons.

The elevator doors shut and I kept my focus on my bare feet. I was in need of a pedicure. My toes looked hideous. "Are you going to Nicky's later?" I asked Reid, without looking up. I knew what his answer was, because he was always at Nicky's. And so was Bordy.

"Yup." He sounded tense. I looked up and he reminded me of a wax figurine you'd see at those wax museums. He was standing upright barely moving except for his chest, which was moving with every inhale and exhale he took. His blue eyes were fixed on the elevator doors.

"Are you going with anyone?" The wax figure took on a human form, and looked over at me, studying my expression for a few moments before answering.

"Just the boys." His eyes held my gaze. He was stunning in a grotesque sort of way. The way Naveed described his womanizing was a bit of a turn off but I could see why all the girls couldn't resist him. He was beautiful.

"Want to go…" I couldn't believe I was doing this… "with me?" The elevator doors opened and a tiny bell sounded. I followed Reid out and we began walking down the hall together. We were neighbors. He lived two dorms down from me. Fate maybe? No, just annoyance.

"Will Cee be joining us, because I've never had a three-some before." I rolled my eyes. Figures he think he'd get lucky. Truth is, Bordy was always at Nicky's, and if he saw me there with Reid, he might realize what a huge mistake he made by breaking up with me three months ago. And then he'd tell me he wanted me back and then we'd live happily ever after.

"No, just the two of us." I stated firmly. I was no pushover.

"It's the three of us or my answer is no." Okay, maybe I wasn't a pushover until now.

"Fine." I agreed, and he smiled. "We're not having sex with you though." I turned my key into the lock of my dorm room.

"You're saying that now..." He said but was cut off when I shut the door in his face. "Pick you both up at 6!" He yelled through the door.

"What was that about?" Cee looked up at me through a pile of cardigan sweaters.

"Get ready, we're going with Reid to Nicky's." I said, pushing my way over to my closet and rummaging through my selections.

"You are not like I thought you would be." Bordy was sitting against the hood of his red '69 Chevelle.

"What do you mean?" I tilted my head up and looked at him questioningly.

"I thought you would be this ditzy, stuck up, bitchy snob. But you're not. You're like the opposite." He smiled down at me. He looked absolutely perfect.

"Well, you're not an asshole like your friend Aaron is." I complimented him. It was a compliment too. Aaron was the school prick. Everyone hated Aaron except for Kira, Ryan, and Bordy.

"You do have a very colorful vocabulary too." He laughed. And then he leaned down and kissed me, softly. If it were possible, doves would be flying around us and Ill Divo would magically start playing out of nowhere, but it wasn't possible. Instead, I found myself falling in love with one of the most amazing men I had ever met.

"Did you hear anything I was just saying?" Cee was standing in front of me, both hands on her hips. Usually when she stands like this she is angry.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something else." I wasn't about to tell her I was reminiscing about my ex boyfriend. Truth is, she'd be even more mad. It's been three months since Bordy broke up with me, and rumor has it that he's moved on with some trash down the hall in Room 818, named Ashley. How common is that name?

"Eliza! I can't believe it! Reid asked you out and you're bringing me with you?!"

"Technically, I asked him out and he wanted the two of us to go, because he wants to have a three-some for the first time." I corrected her while pulling out a beautiful flowered Georgio Armani ensemble. Perfect. Now I just need the perfect shoes. I leaned down and began going through my collection of dressier pumps. I scanned across a pair of white satin peep-toe pumps. Perfect.