Love Me, Love Me (Magnetic Hearts: Book One, Part One)

Chapter 1

June

“June, quit biting your nails! Your classmates will think you’re nervous.”

Grasping the steering wheel a little too tightly between her fingers, Mom glared at me.

“Spoiler alert, Mom.” I took a deep breath. “I am nervous.”

I collapsed into the passenger seat, but my mom showed no signs of letting up.

She hounded me with even more questions, as if the first day of school wasn’t already stressful enough.

“Are you sure you slept well last night, honey? You could stand to put on a bit of concealer to hide the bags under your eyes.”

Concealer? Yeah, right. Wearing makeup to school would trigger the blowup of the century.

“Mom, I can’t win with you. I’m—” I stopped myself. Curse words were strictly forbidden in the White-Lebowsky house. “Ugh, forget it.”

I let out a deep sigh and looked out the window at the Laguna Beach neighborhoods that we passed by. They all looked the same to me: neat, orderly rows of small, freshly plastered houses covered by red, Spanish-style roofs with perfectly arranged shingles and meticulously manicured gardens.

My new life seemed perfect on the outside; in reality it was anything but. It was like a book with a cheerful-looking cover hiding a tragic story in its pages.

Private school, a two-story house, and sunny, 77-degrees-Fahrenheit weather year round. Those were the exact words my mom used when she announced that she was subjecting me to another move. Last year we lived in Seattle, where it was cold and rainy most of the time.

I hadn’t even been living there long enough to get used to the weather and buy the right clothes when she told me it was time to go.

She knew I wouldn’t have agreed to move states twice in one year, so she phrased this move as the best opportunity that she’d ever been offered.

She did everything she could to make it sound convincing.

“Ask someone if you don’t know which classroom to go to. Don’t be shy around your new classmates! I know you’re not shy.”

Would it kill her to not bombard me with unsolicited advice? Wasn’t changing schools for the millionth time depressing enough?

My parents had divorced three years earlier.

Somehow it had never occurred to me to ask myself if I would’ve been better off staying with my dad in Virginia.

At least he wouldn’t have turned my entire adolescence upside down by uprooting me from one part of the country to the other.

Mom and I had moved to four different states, and I’d changed schools three times already.

From here, who knows? Type A career artist April Lebowsky was on a mission to travel all over creation to exhibit her lame artwork.

The only people who even liked her stuff were old, even though she’d never admit it.

I’d never seen anyone younger than seventy at any of her exhibitions. Could that really be a coincidence?

“Fix your collar, honey. And why are you sitting like a man? You’ll wrinkle your skirt,” she scolded.

“And since when do men and women sit differently?” Patience wasn’t exactly my mom’s strong suit, and I took advantage of every opportunity I could to make her lose it.

“June, don’t start with me. You know what I mean.”

“No, Mom, I don’t. And you know what else I don’t get? Why you didn’t sign me up for public school like you always do. I can’t stand this awful uniform.” I let out a heavy sigh, blowing a lock of hair away from my nose.

“It’s just a uniform, June. It even looks good on you.”

“Mom, it’s not just a uniform. Its whole purpose is in its name—to make us all look uniform. The same.”

I always left the house in a hoodie and shorts. I’ve always hated being constricted by fancy blouses. For that matter, I’ve always avoided skirts like the plague.

“Why can’t I wear pants like the guys do?”

“Quit whining. I already told you. I made a mint off my last exhibition. St. Mary’s is the best school in LA. You’re going, and that’s final.”

“How exciting. I could just not study while you pay an arm and a leg for the diploma you’re buying me.”

My mom’s face suddenly looked crestfallen. “You sound just like your father when you act like that,” she lamented, a slight tone of concern in her voice.

“So long as I actually graduate. But you’ll probably make me transfer schools in two months anyway.”

I was being particularly difficult that morning, but it was for a good reason—this was the millionth “first day.” I’d already switched schools and learned the ropes of each of them so many times.

By the time I felt like I was getting the hang of things and figuring out who and what to avoid, et cetera, like clockwork, it was time to move and start all over again.

“Don’t keep your nails that short, June. It’s unladylike.”

I rolled my eyes toward the car ceiling.

“And aren’t ladies also blessed with kindness and understanding in your universe of medieval stereotypes? Because you’re not exactly ladylike all the time by those standards, are you?”

“June Madeline White.”

She pronounced every syllable sternly. I knew I’d gone too far.

I shot her a quick “Later!” and jumped out of the car just as we arrived.

She yelled something I couldn’t understand, but I wasn’t paying attention.

I looked up at the school and barely stopped myself from flinching.

Neat rows of red shingles lined the top of the ornate Victorian-style building.

Every inch of the school’s facade was festooned with intricate decorative carvings.

I felt like I was two inches high standing in front of the towering building.

Its stately walls overlooked an expansive front yard.

Inlaid gray bricks in the front of the building created an elegant color contrast.

Is this really my new school?

I turned around to see how my mom was reacting. She was peering out through the rolled-down window.

“Did you trick me into going to a convent?”

Mom smirked. “Go on, get inside. I’ll see you after school.”

I reluctantly took my first few steps toward the entrance, as if each one would bring me one step closer to the point of no return.

As I walked through the towering iron-and-bronze gate, my eyes were drawn to the sea of clones around me. Everyone was dressed exactly the same. Perfectly tailored jackets, white blouses, and blue skirts for the girls; cream dress shirts and dark slacks for the boys.

Welcome to the Carnival of Conformity, June.

The students all walked confidently with their heads held high, taking perfectly decisive steps.

Everyone seemed so sure of themselves that I wondered if they were even human.

The girls looked like cookie-cutter models.

Their statuesque bodies moved lithely with effortless elegance.

Their feminine faces were framed by long, dazzlingly shiny hair, with perfectly winged cat-eye liner that emphasized their eyes, and dainty noses that were accentuated by subtle, well-proportioned contouring.

The guys, too, were completely different from the ones I was used to.

None of them wore oversized hoodies or wrinkled jeans.

They all looked like they’d just stepped off the runway.

People wore pajamas to school in Seattle and every other school that I’d gone to.

None of them would ever think about wearing four-inch heels.

It looked like they were all about to enter a beauty contest, but the haughty glances from a few small groups of students hanging out on the stairs surprised me the most. Mom was right; I wasn’t shy, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling really uncomfortable.

I picked up my pace in the hopes of making it to the front door unscathed. A nagging thought became louder in my mind: I had absolutely nothing in common with these people.

“Let me guess. You’re new, and you’re lost.”

The gloomy voice caught me so off guard that I jumped before turning around. It belonged to a tall, dark-haired guy behind me.

Was he talking to me?

“I’m not lost, I just got here,” I corrected him, almost annoyed with his assumption.

“First day in hell, huh.” He said this in a jokingly sarcastic tone, but he wasn’t smiling. His lips remained straight, which gave him an apathetic facial expression.

My eyes were drawn to his emerald ones, which were surrounded by long black eyelashes. His jet-black hair was brushed back.

I nodded, but was soon distracted by a slim figure running toward us. Locks of straight hair were braided into thin pigtails that swung back and forth across her studded earlobes. Her face had the same catlike features as the dark-haired guy in front of me.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Fresh meat,” he said in a monotone.

The girl smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Amelia Hood. The guy who’s messing with you is my brother, Brian.”

“I’m June White. Nice to meet you.”

Amelia gave me the same puzzled look that everyone does when I say my name. Grandma March named my mom April, and my mom thought it was a brilliant idea to continue this family tradition by naming me after another month, so June.

Their intent stares made me feel out of place. They probably weren’t used to being around somebody as generic looking as me, with my cracked lips, straw-colored hair with frizzy ends, and dark bags under my eyes.

“Eh, it’s still cute,” I heard her mutter under her breath.

Brian gazed at me intensely. “Yeah, very.”

I furrowed my brow. Even though their words sounded encouraging, I didn’t have a good feeling about them.

I was just about to say goodbye when Amelia linked her arm with mine with confidence that I wasn’t expecting.

“You a freshman, June?” she asked as the three of us walked toward the school entrance.

“Senior,” I answered quickly, irked by her statement.

Then again, how could I blame her for asking? I barely came up to her shoulder.

“So are we. Which classes do you have today?”

“Are you guys twins?” I asked, not bothering to hide my curiosity.

“Brian’s a year older than me, but he got into some trouble last year.”

“Amelia,” her brother snapped, shooting her an icy glare to shut her up.

“I have English first,” I interjected, to diffuse the tension.

“Lucky you. I have science. It’s so lame.” Amelia groaned.

Brian looked at me indifferently. “I have English too. If you want, I’ll show you where the classroom is.”

I was just about to accept his offer when I felt Amelia’s nails dig into my arm.

I shot her a look, but she was too distracted to pay attention.

It was almost like she and every other student swarming the hallway had just fallen under some kind of spell.

Something, or someone, had caught everyone’s attention.

“Oh fuck. He’s back,” I heard her murmur.

“Who? Who’s back?” I craned my neck to see what was going on.

“Hunter.” She sighed slowly. She said his name so gravely that it sent a chill down my spine.

“Who’s that?” I asked, unsure whether I should laugh or be afraid.

“Nobody. Stay away from James Hunter.” Brian narrowed his eyes, making me shiver. “Shall we get to class?” he suggested in an attempt to redirect my attention.

I shrugged. “Okay.”

But I couldn’t move. I stood in the hallway and listened to the increasingly fervent murmurs from the crowd.

“James Hunter’s back.”

It echoed across the hall as if everyone was chanting it.

Flirty remarks peppered the chatter.

“Did he go to the gym?”

“Is it me, or is he even more bangable than before?”

“Juvie must’ve been good for him,” another commented.

Annoyed by all the swooning, I followed Brian. Besides, I had no intention of getting lost on the first day of school. So I waved goodbye to Amelia and tagged along with her brother.

At some point my curiosity got the best of me, and I turned around.

Standing on my tippy-toes, I tried to identify the individual who’d captivated the entire student population.

A guy flanked by a group of friends walked down a giant staircase at the end of the hallway.

His imposing stature stood out from the crowd.

Maybe it was because unlike the others, he didn’t wear the uniform jacket, or maybe it was because his perfectly tailored dress shirt fit him like a glove, accentuating his broad, muscular shoulders.

His loose necktie hung over his sculpted chest, making him look effortlessly disheveled.

But what stood out the most to me was how he strutted down the hall.

He sauntered like a lion returning to his pride.

I was astounded by how rapt the girls were as they waited for him to acknowledge them with his dazzling blue eyes.

Oblivious, he passed by all of them with a small, cocky smile on his mouth.

It hit me that I’d just watched a documentary on peacocks yesterday. What a coincidence.

James Hunter swaggered through the throng of students followed by three large guys with broad shoulders, whom I didn’t dare look at twice.

The closer they got, the more I looked away.

Suddenly, I managed to get a better look at his face.

His hair was a tousled mass of chestnut locks flecked with ashy blond streaks.

Lazily, he ran his ring-adorned fingers through his hair.

When it fell, it framed a well-proportioned, sculpted face with a pair of full lips and a strong jawline.

He absentmindedly looked around at his classmates ogling him admiringly.

The air escaped my lungs as he moved forward.

My heart started racing. I was almost tempted to lower my head just he passed me by, but instead I froze and stared into his dazzling cobalt-blue eyes, which were as dark as nightfall.

Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second. I felt a rush of adrenaline pulse under my skin and course through my veins.

So, this was James Hunter.