A Start

A sick smell of dirty socks, hair spray, and Eternity for Men engulfed Serena as she sat back in the molded plastic seat of her desk. She had always loved history class, but this year, the teacher's seating arrangement left her, Serena Clark, sitting in a seat next to Preston Kane, who apparently thought not doing his laundry could be overcome by piling on the cologne. God, she hated Eternity for Men. Even the name was wimpy.
"Hey, there, history girl." Preston leaned over, rubbed her shoulder suggestively. Yep. She was going to puke. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice, she told herself. Turning the corners of her mouth up ever so slightly, she nodded. "Hey Preston." Flat. Preston leaned back and grinned wide. He thought he'd won. They never learn, do they? she thought, as her breath caught in her chest. Her eyes met Cohen's as he walked in the door. She bet his socks were clean. And if they weren't, man, she'd like to have them anyway.