High school is tough. Romance with a sexy alien—even tougher.

Star reporter Sloane Masterson knows she has one helluva story when she witnesses hottie Hayden Lancaster bending forks with his mind.

Like any good journalist, Sloane sets out to uncover the truth, even if it includes a little stalking. When the superhuman feats start to pile up and the undeniable heat rises between them, Hayden has no choice but to reveal his secret: he’s an alien hybrid.

They’re as different as night and day—she’s a curvy, purple-haired, horror junkie and he’s a smoking hot, antisocial, brainiac—yet the intense fascination between them refuses to go away. Even at Hayden’s insistence that dating each other is “off limits” and dangerous, their fiery attraction threatens to go supernova.

Now Sloane’s learning to deal with creepy government agents, über snobby extraterrestrials, and getting a crash course on the rules of interstellar dating. But Sloane must decide if their star-crossed romance is worth risking her own life...

  
Excrept

I don’t usually stalk boys, but if I hadn’t been spying on Hayden Lancaster, I never would’ve seen the mind-blowing fork-bending incident.

I scoot back the creaky plastic chair and rest my chin on my fist. Lunch hour is the best time to study my classmates undetected. Especially the tall, hot, and broody ones.

Not that I’m a bad person. Honest. I’ve never narked on anyone. I don’t kick puppies. And I normally don’t play at undercover agent. Well...until today.

“Are you scoping out a new story?” My best friend, Viola Saks, shifts in her seat, her nose stuck in the latest Jack Kilborn novel. Viola prefers her book boyfriends over real guys, and I gotta admit, she has a point. Fictional hotties are way more exciting than the real thing.

“Yup. But right now, I’m only observing,” I say. “People watching.”

Tiny white lie. I’m secretly kicking off: “Operation Lancaster.”

Haven High’s cafeteria is the perfect spot to catch up on gossip, observe clique wars, and witness any mean girl activity. This is where I discover the most newsworthy stories.

As two girls pass our table, one of them bumps my chair without apologizing. To me, the lunchroom is more than just a place to chow down on industrial-grade food. It reminds me of a prison scene, with its hostile mingling and violent chaos, like inmates at mealtime. Saying the cafeteria is only for eating is like saying an underground lair is only for plotting world domination. If you can survive a high school lunchroom, then you can survive almost anything. Well, with the exception of a zombie apocalypse.

The double-doors swing open and in walks Hayden Lancaster, chin held high. Next to him is his younger brother, Zach, bouncing a basketball with one hand and drinking a soda with the other. Hayden’s eyes are trained directly ahead as they stride across the crowded room.

About time. The focus of my new article has finally arrived. Opening my purse, I get out my Hello Kitty spiral-bound notebook and pen. Now I’m ready.

The Lancaster brothers are both gorgeous in a way that should be totally illegal, but look nothing alike. Zach is a cocky, dark-haired, all-round jock, and Hayden is the quiet, rockstar-sexy, drummer-type. He’s one of those guys who prefers to function in his own little world. And I’ll admit that I sure wouldn’t mind a starring role on his planet.

But I’m not sure which social group they fit into...maybe the misunderstood-brooding-hot-guys club?

I covertly look over at Hayden sitting three tables away from mine. He’s six feet tall, and lean, yet muscular. The times we’ve passed each other in the halls, his eyes are usually twinkling as if he knows an intriguing secret. Today, Hayden’s wearing a dark blue short-sleeved, button-up shirt with faded skinny jeans, a studded belt, and scuffed Etnies. On one arm, he has several black rubber bracelets. Nothing too unusual about him.

Except for one very odd feature.

Hayden has two different colored eyes. He turns his head and his light brown fauxhawk falls over his forehead in a messy yet somehow deliberate way, landing over his one strikingly blue eye. The other one is green. Besides the rare heterochromia iridis, he seems to be just another smokin’ hot brainiac.

Flipping open my notebook, I write: Startling eye color and member of the Amazing Hair Club. Check.

Wait. Why am I thinking about how über hot he is? Seriously not important.

Viola lowers her book a fraction. “You’re totally staring at the Lancasters.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Oh, right, you’re observing.” She tilts her head. “Most girls can’t resist guys like them. They have that...”

Incredibly sexy quality?

“Dangerous vibe going,” Viola finishes.

I pull out a bag of celery from my lunchbox. “Yeah, I guess.”

Maybe I should write that down. Sexy bad-boys. Check.

She points at my lunch. “Your mom on that health food kick again?”

“Yup.”

“She’s like the damn food police. I’m glad my mom’s not like that.” Viola reaches out a slender arm to nab a French fry and shove it into her mouth.

“Seriously? How are you supermodel thin when you eat stuff like that?” I groan and glance at her slim figure clad in a skintight black dress with thigh-high boots. A silver eyebrow ring glints in the dull light. “I could eat only yogurt for the rest of my life and I’d still be your chubby sidekick.”

She scoffs. “You’re not chubby, Sloane. You’re extra curvy.”

Whatevs. Guess that’s just what people say when you’re a foodie like me.

Viola’s flicks a page of her book. “So what’s this article on?”

I clear my throat. “Actually, I’m investigating Hayden Lancaster.”

“Should be interesting.” One brown eye peeks over the edge of the paperback. “Any particular reason?”

“Because of this hacker rumor going around. The gossip this morning was off the hook. Supposedly, Hayden hacked into the school’s computer system over the weekend to change some grades. School administrators are saying that they’ll probably need a day just to block any security breaches.”

She straightens, lowering her book. “That’s odd. Isn’t he on the honor roll? Why would he need to alter his grades?”

I shrug. “Beats me. Maybe he was doing it for someone else.”

As a reporter for our online newspaper the Haven Gazette, a hacker scandal is way huge. And since my college resume is in dire need of some padding, this assignment was just too juicy to pass up. Plus, a front-page byline will look much more impressive in a hardcore journalism-type of way than my own wicked cool column—Fright Night Babble—where I mainly review and chat about horror films.

My gaze strays back to the brothers. I can tell by Hayden’s jerky head movements that the brothers are engrossed in a heated discussion. Somebody’s not a happy camper. His angular features and flawless skin reddens, and Zach’s square jaw clenches.

 Dang it. I’m too far away to read their lips.

Mid-rant, Hayden scoots his chair back, the metal legs squeaking on the linoleum floor. He slides his cell phone out of his pocket and reads the screen, then scratches the stubble on his cheek with a frown. Zach tries to grab the phone, but Hayden shoves it back into his pocket.

“You dumped her, bro?” Zach practically shouts.

Hayden’s hands curl into fists. “Will you stop making a big thing out of it!”

Viola and I exchange a look. For a minute, the entire cafeteria falls silent.

“Whoa.” She points a fry at the brothers. “I wonder what Hayden and Zach are fighting about. And who got dumped?”

“Sounds like it’s over some girl. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.”

But it would seem that he’s a free man now. Interesting…

“Neither did I. As far as I know, Zach and Hayden have never even dated any of the girls at this school.” Viola sighs. “Like they think they’re too good for us or something.”

I slam my juice box on the table, purple liquid shooting out of the straw. “Maybe that’s because everyone’s so damn cliquey at this school. It’s just wrong, the way the other kids treat them,” I say. “Did you hear? Someone jacked up Hayden’s locker again with spray paint.” I’m beyond disgusted by some of my classmates’ Neanderthal moves.

“Then maybe you should investigate who keeps screwing with the Lancasters, instead. Hayden and Zach can’t help being sexy and brilliant.” Viola is an advocate for social justice in high school, and totally reading my mind. “Besides, if Hayden got away with the hacking incident, there’s no real story, and you probably won’t find any credible sources to verify the allegation.”

I bite off the end of a celery stalk. “Are you kidding me? There’s a story here—I can feel it.”

“If you say so, but be careful. That boy’s getting a serious rep.”

“True. Except, I think he’d prefer to fly under-the-radar. Although it’s a little late now,” I say. “Hayden’s become infamous overnight.”

And by the looks of the fight he’s having with his brother, Hayden doesn’t seem too happy about it.

“But the hacking isn’t the weird part...” I lean closer and lower my voice. “My sources say that Hayden walked away with only a slap on the wrist. No expulsion or suspension, not even Saturday detention. Who gets away with stuff like that?”

She rolls her eyes. “He does, apparently.”

“But why? How?”

These are things I need to know.

Viola sticks a bookmark in her novel. “Whaddya got on Hayden so far?”

I push my hair—originally blonde, and now dyed a bright purple—out of my eyes and scan my notes. “Oh, well, not much. Just that the Lancasters moved to the island about six months ago. Hayden’s a senior and antisocial, and Zach’s a junior and on the basketball team. I heard that Hayden was booted from his last school in Castro Valley and he did a stint in juvie. Should be pretty hard to get in that kind of trouble around here.”

“Agreed.” She smiles teasingly. “We seem to be short on our quota of cute psychos.”

I roll my eyes. Viola goes back to reading, and I go back to stalking. I busy myself by searching through my purse for something, but glance out the corner of my eye.

Hayden’s gesturing with his hands in a harassed way. The ropey stomach muscles beneath his tight shirt flex across his midsection with each movement. And I’ll bet my collection of George A. Romero DVDs that he has rock-hard abs.

Zach grunts loudly and twirls the basketball on one finger. Hayden looks around nervously, his shoulders hunched. When his extraordinary eyes lock onto mine, an unfamiliar thrill shoots through my veins. Even from a short distance, the boy looks mouthwatering good. Hayden stiffens and his eyes harden into dichromatic chips of ice.

Although I’m obviously busted, I can’t look away. The thump of my galloping heartbeat thunders in my ears. There’s a wariness lingering in his expression that I don’t understand. As though ignited by kerosene, my body temperature rises and I tear my gaze away. Then a fierce spark of panic hits hard.

Is my hair tangled? My pencil skirt unzipped? Lip gloss on my teeth?

Pulling a quick ninja hair inspection, I look out the nearby window while surreptitiously using the reflection to ensure that my flyaway hair looks tame. I sweep a hand around my waist to check my zipper, and then run my tongue over my teeth. All good. I grip the hem of my black tee under my leather jacket, the silver studded leather cuff on my wrist digging into my stomach, and yank it down. Much better.

Embarrassing situation averted.

Swallowing hard, I shift in my seat. I need a minute to calm down, so I stare at my notebook, picking invisible lint from the wire spiral. The peculiar feeling in my chest gradually shrinks, as if a vacuum is pulling the swirling emotions from my body.

A few seconds—that seem like hours—pass before I gather the nerve to look over at the Lancaster’s table again. Thankfully, Hayden is back to arguing with his younger brother.

“You know, this story is actually the perfect excuse to get closer to a guy you’ve been crushing on for the last few months,” Viola says.

More like six months, four days, and thirteen hours. But who’s counting?

“This is just for the paper. Someone has to write it,” I say casually, although a part of me is secretly thrilled at the prospect of getting the inside scoop on Hayden Lancaster...