Finally.

You're almost home. And it's Friday. The ride back from school seemed to take an age. Probably the weather, you think to yourself. Its only mid November, but in the morning, the ground is covered by a thin sheen of frost and the wind is bitterly cold, biting into your face and ripping its way through your clothes, slipping down your neck past even the thick woolly scarf you wear most of the time. It was blowing in your face, pushing against you on the way home, making it that bit harder to cycle up the hill you already struggle with.

Its about five o'clock, if you hurry and get home before it gets too dark, you can take your dog Bo for a walk. Already, the light is fading, muting the already dull tones of autumn down even more. You continue down the road, past the gaudily painted house that now stands empty and pass the old peoples home on the right, smiling at the old man who always sits at the window of his apartment, and sticking your tongue out at the small dog that seems to bark all day, every day. You're surprised there haven't been any complaints to the council yet. Thankfully, you live further down the road, past the church and the little shop that sells its wares at ridiculously high prices.

You turn left at the oak, getting off your bike to take the shortcut down the narrow alley that may be dingy, but saves you a good five minutes of being in the cold. Once you've wedged yourself through the kissing gate, you get back on your bike. All you really want to do now is get home, put on warmer clothes and then take Bo for a walk. Maybe you'll jog.

After all, according to your gym teacher just cycling isn't enough exercise for 'such a fine young lady'. What a weirdo…At least he's better than your French teacher, you think dryly. Two assignments to be finished by Monday: one presentation and one long essay about some-

You screech your bike to a halt, cursing out loudly in shock.

You nearly hurtled into someone standing in the middle of the lane. He was looking at something intently, fiddling with the sleeve of his left arm, holding something that looked like a small branch in his hand. He turns towards you now and you pause, somewhat taken aback by his slightly eccentric appearance. You braked just in time, the front wheel of the bike not an inch from his black boots.

Although the light is dimming, his eyes, blue with grey specks, stand out starkly. He looks at you, unblinking, and you notice you still haven't moved your bike.

Trying to manoeuvre your bike past him (you need to wheel it back before being able to get past him, and even so its still close to him) you feel your face heat up. Blood rushes into your cheeks, as you stammer an apology about "not seeing you, and uhm, almost driving into you…I guess. Sorry about that". He doesn't acknowledge what you said, still looking- no, staring into your face. You purse your lips and squeeze past him, brushing his long coat as you try to get away. As you move away from him, you hear him murmur "Don't worry, beautiful. Could happen to anyone" with an unsettlingly smooth voice that seems to belie his scruffy appearance.

You glance over your shoulder to see him smirking, before nodding his head at you in what seems to be a farewell. Closing your eyes briefly, you set back on your way. Speeding off towards your house, you don't look back until you reach the gates. Entering the numeric code needed to unlock it, you glance back briefly and see him, still standing where you left him, long brown hair tied back roughly, leather coat flapping slightly, black boots laced up.

You slip through the gate and lean against it, exhaling slightly and rubbing your eyes. It feels as though he is still looking at you, as if he can look through the gate and see you standing there, visibly shaken, but slightly thrilled. At least he was handsome you think to yourself. Better have a near collision with an attractive, if older man, than with a group of rude, hormonally challenged boys your age. Shaking your head and smiling, you wheel your bike towards the front door, locking it to the birch tree.

As you rummage through your school bag to find your key, you notice you lost your hat. Sighing, you unlock the door, mentally reminding yourself to look for it on the walk with Bo. He comes bounding along towards you now, and nuzzles his head against your leg. You pat his large head and close the door, locking it again. Walking into the Kitchen, you call your Mother to say you're home.

You get no answer, but find a note pinned to the Fridge.