"Ow, God that hurts." Were the first words I spoke as I woke lethargically, opening my eyelids and rubbing my head - What a thing to wake up to! Leaning over me, a smile creasing on his perfect face was the darn close to hawtest guy on the planet; I mean jeez, why does god hate me? All the perfect people cramped in to one school-for-the-hawt-immortal, and then me, normal me. "Hey, Nice to see you conscious" he said softly in a deep, dreamy voice that I could listen to all day and most likely would if I had the chance. His thick dark hair shone in the light, almost like onyx and his pale complexion matched his perfectly toned and muscular body. I must be hallucinating because I SWEAR I just saw wings on his back . . ."Now, what hurts?" He said softly, before stopping, and staring in awe . . . at me. What the heck? ME?! "Your eyes . . ." he murmured, totally dazed - almost memorised. "What? What about my eyes?" I said sitting up them immediately groaning and lying back down again. The hottie handed me a mirror and I I looked at my reflection with a gasp, reaching a hand to my face. It was me alright, but I looked almost . . . beautiful? Olive tanned skin and a perfect complexion, dark rose lips, but none of that was what startled me - It was my eyes. They had changed, from that dull chocolate brown flecked with gold to a vibrant purple, flecked with magenta, pink and lilac with a tint of gold, and to top it off rimmed with black. They were amazing, and they were MINE! I finally felt somewhat connected to the school, I was special, unique.
"Wow. " I said simply as the boy walked behind me to look in the mirror, I saw his reflection smiling at me. "Yeah, Wow. Those are some of the coolest purple eyes I have seen" he grinned. His complement made me blush, and giggle softly, but so quiet that he hopefully wouldn't have heard. "Stormy, Right?" he asked, handing me an ice pack, I smiled back with a sheepish ‘thank you' grin and holding against my head - I bet I looked attractive - sense the sarcasm! "Yeah" I said, trying to avoid the topic of my surname . . . "Stormy is your true name, or a nickname?" he asked questionably, dark, intense December eyes dancing with wonder. "True name" I lied smoothly, I never, ever wanted anybody here to know who I truly was, I had left that life behind, never to look back. "My Mom was a hippie" I said with a half-hearted smile, putting the mirror down on the side table and finally taking in my surroundings, hoping he wouldn't see through my lies. I was in a large, oak room. Lying in a fancy bed with soft white linens and duck down pillows. The guy was sitting on the bed beside me, with a few medical supplies on a silver tray, he looked like he new what he was doing.
"Cool" he said with a laugh, "I'm Quinn Racari" Quinn . . . Even his name was dreamy, I snapped out of it and smiled like I actually was a mentally-with-it-person "Nice to meet ya, now, may I ask where the hell am I and how the heck did I get here with a really bad migraine?"