Page 1 of Are You Scared, Krowe?

"Head's up, New Girl!"

The warning comes half a second before impact. I've just turned my head in the direction of the voice before the ball nails me in the side of my head.

“Oh shit!”

For a second, the world goes silent, black, waiting for me to gather my senses.

When the world comes back to me, Easton Krowatski is standing over me with a horrified look on his face, which is funny, because I feel pretty horrified too once I blink and realize he’s talking to me. I can see his lips moving, his dark eyes appraising me, and his brows drawn together.

What the fuck.

I reach for my head, which feels like it’s got a thunderstorm going on inside it. It’s throbbing.

“I’m so sorry!” Krowe says, and finally, sound seems to come back to me. “Are you okay?”

I’m lying flat on my back still, and he’s braced over top of me, his knees on either side of my waist as he checks on me. It feels oddly intimate, especially given that we’re in the center of the campus courtyard.

“I… think so.”

He scrambles off of me when I move to sit up and stands, offering me his hand so that he can help hoist me to my full height.

Which, next to him, isn’t much. He proves that once he pulls me with such force I teeter right into him, throwing a hand out on his chest to keep myself from falling on top of him this time.

“Whoa, there. Easy, New Girl. You sure you’re okay?” He cranes his head, and his fingers brush the hair away from my face gently as he searches for the injury. “You’re not bleeding, but hits to the head can be pretty gnarly.”

“Gnarly?”

It’s such a strange word. I can’t help it; I laugh.

Krowe looks at me, shocked. “Are you making fun of me, New Girl?”

“No… yes.” I laugh again, covering my face with my hand to try and hide the embarrassment. I feel oddly disjointed right now, and I can’t tell if it’s because he has me flustered or if it’s a head injury that’s making everything feel weird. “And it’s Gianna, by the way.”

“Gianna.” Krowe grins, flicking his tongue out over his lips.

“Krowe.”

I know who he is. Everyone knows who he is.

“Gnarly name, Krowe.” I tease.

As soon as the words leave my tongue, I wish I could take them back.

God, what the hell is wrong with me? I really must have some sort of brain injury, because normally, I would not be volunteering to continue this conversation.

I mean, Krowe is gorgeous, but I’m so shy that I barely know anyone here in Hollow Fields despite being here for months now… hence the reason he called me new girl.

“Yeah?” He chuckles, shoving his dark hair out of his eyes, which glitter green in the weak afternoon sun. “It’s short for my last name. Krotowski.”

I know that. His dad is the sheriff, and it’s a small town. It’s been easy to learn who everyone is; all I do is sit back and watch, and the pieces fall together all on their own. Like Jackson Devoreaux, who throws his arm around Krowe, reeling him in.

“You giving New Girl a hard time over here, Krowe?” He teases, ruffling the top of Krowe’s head and shaking strands of his hair into his eyes again.

Whereas Krowe is dark-haired and somehow maintains an aura of mystery, Jackson is a sandy blonde; he’s exactly like half the guys I knew in California. An open book, with way less brain cells than money. His dad is the mayor, and apparently, he owns the land the entire town sits on.

“She’s giving me a hard time, actually.” Krowe smirks.

Okay, so we’re playing this game. So much for being demure.

“Gianna.” I say, turning to Jackson.

“Gi anna.” He says, enunciating each half of my name on its own, like he’s testing the feel of it. He must like it, because he moans just a little. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How’s your head, G? You took that hit like a champ.”

“I have brain damage, I’m sure. But I’m in good company, if so, right Jackson?”

Jackson stares at me, dumbfounded, as he tries to decide what I meant by that. Krowe, on the other hand, howls with laughter.

“Fuck, New Girl! Beautiful and a sense of humor? Where have you been hiding all this time?”

Damn my fair skin. I can feel the blush rushing to my cheeks, my blood heating with his praise.

Why does his attention feel so damn good?

I’d rather light myself on fire than talk to Jackson like this.

But with Krowe? He’s magnetic, and I find myself drawn to the banter, his easy grin, the gleam in his eyes.

When I don’t answer, Jackson claps his hands together, like he’s just had a revolutionary idea. “Come to the party tonight.” He says. “Everyone will love you.”

“Party?”

It doesn’t sound like my idea of fun. The thought of hanging out with my classmates puts a pit in the center of my stomach and makes my anxiety crawl. I don’t like crowds.

“It’s more lowkey than he’s making it sound.” Krowe rolls his eyes. “Some of us get together and chill. Bonfire, beer…” He shrugs. “It’s not a big thing, but you’re more than welcome to come if it sounds like your vibe.”

My vibe?

My vibe is chill, sure. And honestly, lowkey is perfect.

Hollow Fields may be a small town, but I’m not interested in a house party or anything.

But a bonfire? It sounds so… quintessential.

It’s barely even a party and would be a good opportunity to maybe make some friends.

Or maybe make something more than friends, because the way Krowe is watching me, waiting for an answer, he definitely looks interested in the latter.

“Is that your vibe, New Girl?” Jackson asks, slinging an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into him. “Are you a bonfire and beer kinda girl, or does that sound too boring for someone from the city?”

“It sounds perfect.” I push away from him, lightly enough to stay playful, and return my attention to Krowe. “Where is it?”

“Cornfield.” Jackson answers, oblivious to the fact that I’m not even the slightest bit interested in him.

“I’ll pick you up.” Krowe grins, palming the football that he tried to take me out with between his hands, passing it from one to the other. “Say… nine?”

“You know where I live?” He didn’t even know my name five minutes ago, and now he’s offering to take me to the bonfire he invited me. Maybe small-town hospitality is a real thing after all.

“Of course.” He chuckles, like that’s normal. “The town’s like three square miles, and half of it is farmland and cornfields. Not many empty houses around here, New Girl.”

“Gianna.” I correct him again, and my stomach twists when one side of his mouth tips up into an impish grin.

“I’ll be there at nine, New Girl.” He winks, and I turn to go, deciding to take that as a dismissal. I haven’t gotten more than three steps before he calls me back. “Oh, and Gianna?”

I suppress my smirk at the fact he used my name this time and turn, raising an eyebrow as I await whatever it is he wants.

“Come in costume.”