Flirting With Maybe: A Novella
Author: Wendy Higgins
Date: 2013-03-05 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Teen & Young Adult; Literature & Fiction; Social & Family Issues; Family; Romance; Contemporary; Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages)
Description: Sweet Evil author Wendy Higgins captivates with this fresh romance filled with alluring chemistry and coming-of-age tension. This 96-page novella of unrequited love between sophomore Ryan "The Kid" McPhearson, who makes the varsity baseball team and finds himself immersed in the life of upperclassmen, and the untouchable senior Brooke Bennet is rife with emotion. Maybe to the outside world a two-year age difference doesn't matter, but this is high school. Everything matters. Higgins's deeply felt characters are tested with romantic highs and lows that are powerful, poignant, and keep us wantin
Publisher: Epic Reads Impulse

Dedication

To the DG—my dugout girls

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Excerpt from Sweet Peril

Prologue

Chapter One

About the Author

Back Ad

Copyright

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

He was fifteen and she was seventeen. He knew her loud laugh and how she talked faster when she got excited. He knew from her pace down the halls whether she was happy or lost in thought. He knew she could send a text and slide her phone back in her bag before he could blink. He knew the look of her toned legs in a tennis skirt, and of her athletic body in general. He knew far too much about a girl who probably didn’t know he existed.

Senior girls at Ryan’s school didn’t date underclassmen. It was unheard of, so he knew he stood no chance. The older guys were taller, stronger, more confident. Sometimes older guys got with younger girls, but it never happened the other way around. It would be considered the height of uncoolness for chicks. Ryan knew that, but still . . .

He held his breath every day between fourth and fifth period and stared at the floor until she passed him in the hall. If he was alone, he might dare to turn and watch her blond ponytail swing from side to side or get a glance of a loose braid hanging down her back. Brooke had a natural look. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup like most girls. On that October day when she approached his locker, hugging a biology book to her chest, he finally had the excuse to take in every detail.

“Ryan McPhearson, right?”

He recognized her voice and looked up, shocked that she knew his name. She was even hotter close-up, standing there with a smile on her smooth lips. At first all he could do was breathe her in, and he swore he smelled cupcakes. Ryan felt his face turning red, so he tilted his head down just enough to shield his eyes under his baseball cap. He knew his straight brown hair needed a cut and was probably sticking out from under his hat, looking overgrown. He’d envisioned himself meeting her so many times, but he’d never pictured himself being timid.

“Yeah,” said Ryan.

“I’m Brooke Bennett. I heard you’re playing fall ball on the varsity baseball team.”

She waited patiently for him to answer. He finally popped his mouth open and said, “Uh . . . yeah.”

Ryan had never wanted a do-over so badly in his life.

“That’s awesome.” She shifted the book to her sexy hip, and Ryan had to swallow. “Coach doesn’t usually take sophomores. If you’re in for fall ball, then you’re probably in for the spring season. You must be good.”

Praise made him uncomfortable. When he didn’t answer, Brooke reached up and gently tugged the bill of his hat to make him look at her. All signs of intelligence evaded him.

“I’m managing the team this year,” she said.

He knew that. He nodded in response, not trusting himself to speak.

“You’re so shy.” Her words made him silently curse himself.

At the sound of amusement in her voice, he peeked, only to feel stupid under her steady, curious gaze—her adorable head tilted. Ryan gave a huff and shrugged, knowing it was too late to try and play cool.

“That’s okay,” she told him. “It’s cute.”

Cute. Ryan wanted to die. In a painful, gory, noncute way.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around. . . . Bye, Ry.”

He cleared his throat and said, “Bye.” But she was already walking away.

Despite being disgusted with himself, he went to class that day, unable to control his grin. Brooke Bennett had talked to him. In real life. She’d called him Ry. He never let anyone call him that because it sounded babyish, but when Brooke’d said it, it’d sounded like a term of endearment—like they were close.

He braved eye contact with her every day in the hall after that. She’d pause in her conversations to smile and wave. His friends would slap at him with admiration. He got bolder, moving from nods to smiles to hellos and playful shoulder bumps if they passed closely enough. If Ryan was having a great day, he’d even poke her in the waist as she went by, making her squeal in front of all her friends. She always smelled like vanilla—cookies or cake or something, and it went straight to his head.

Drawing a single smile from her was enough to make him soar all day.

Ryan turned sixteen in February and his mom scrounged her savings to buy him a small, boxy used car. He hadn’t been embarrassed by the bright teal-green color until his friends started calling it the “toy box.” But that ended quickly when they needed rides.

One frozen afternoon, Brooke walked over to him in the school parking lot. He watched her breath trail off in white puffs. Her cheeks were bright pink and she wore a dangly red scarf. Ryan had the urge to pull her close and warm her up.

“Wow, you got a car!” she said, surveying the toy box. “It’s so cute!”

Cute. He was starting to hate that word.

“I think the word you’re looking for is manly,” he said.

“Well of course it’s manly! It’s a symbol of your freedom!” She patted the hood with her gloved hand, looking up with a smile. Sometimes her smile short-circuited his communication abilities.

She glanced around the parking lot. “Are you driving the boys today?”

“No. Need a ride?” He braced himself for rejection, knowing she always rode with her senior friends.

“Seriously?” Her eyes danced. “That’d be awesome.” She stood on tiptoe and shouted across the lot. “HEY, JACKIE! I’m going with Ry today!”

Her shouts drew everyone’s attention. Jackie, Brooke’s best friend, waved back in response. Ryan listened as some of the older guys from his team called out, “Oh, Ry!” He flushed, though he couldn’t care less about the catcalls. He was in disbelief. She’d be in his car and she didn’t care if everyone knew.

They both climbed in, and Ryan became hyperaware of every possible flaw. He kept the car sparkling clean, but the previous owner had smoked. What if it smelled bad? Soon Brooke’s vanilla scent overpowered any possible stink and made him light-headed.

“It’s freaking cold!” Brooke said.

Ryan started up the toy box and cranked the heater. “Maybe it’ll snow.”

“Psh. I wish. We need a snow day. Winter sucks here. One year we get three feet of snow, and then the next year nothing.”

He couldn’t believe she was right there, inches from him, talking about northern Virginia weather, completely clueless about the way she made his stomach feel like he was speeding over hills. She wore a look of contentment, and her big brown eyes danced as if being in the car with him was some kind of adventure.

“Mind if I touch your stuff?” she asked.

“Huh?” Ryan’s thoughts nose-dived into the gutter.

Brooke giggled and pointed to the radio dials. “I know some guys are funny about their stuff.”

Ryan managed a smile, feeling too warm. “Sure, yeah. My stuff is, uh, yours to touch.”

Crap . . . he did not just say that. He hoped she didn’t think he was a perv.

Brooke just shook her head and laughed again. She pulled off her gloves and reached for the dials, tuning in to a bad pop station. Even her hands with their short, unpainted nails were adorable as they touched his stuff. Ryan forced his eyes to the road.

He drove through the parking lot and Brooke turned up the radio, leaning over Ryan’s lap to honk the horn. Other cars started honking their horns as well. Ryan had to laugh. She was so alive and self-assured. He wanted to be alive like that—not the type of guy who shut down in the presence of a pretty girl.

As he was about to pass her friend Jackie, Brooke rolled her window down to wave and shout “Woo!” The freezing air bit at his face, a relief after his overheated moment. Her friends laughed, rolling down their own windows to holler back as Ryan sped off, soaking it in. He kind of loved how Brooke made herself at home in his space.

When they got on the main road, Brooke rolled up the window, turning to face Ryan.

“Do you have to go home right away?”

His pulse jumped. “No. I just have to be back up at school at five for batting practice.”

In the spring they’d have practice right after school, but during the winter Coach didn’t want to use the frozen field, so they had to wait until basketball players were done with the gym.

“Can we just drive around?” asked Brooke. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Okay.” It seemed like a safer answer than “Hell yeah!”

He drove around and ended up at the state park three miles from his house. He parked in an empty lot overlooking the Potomac River, and they sat there, surrounded by bare trees. Ryan fidgeted. He patted his thighs, put his hands on the steering wheel, then propped his elbows on the armrests. Brooke sat still, staring out her window for a long time before speaking.

“Tell me about yourself.”

He wondered what she wanted to know, and decided to keep it basic.

“I, um, live with my mom—”

“Just your mom?” Brooke interrupted.

“Yes.”

“Wow, you’re lucky. I wish I lived with just my mom. My parents divorced and then my mom remarried a guy named Ron.” She said his name with disgust. “Ron the con. He acted all sweet at first until they got married.”

Ryan wondered what the story was there. He had a stepmom, but she was actually pretty cool. “What’s wrong with him?”

She still stared out the window. “He hates me.”

“There’s no way he could hate you.”

This brought her to life. She turned, and her eyes seemed darker.

“It’s like we’re competing for my mom’s attention. She’s always making excuses for what a controlling jerk he is. I guess when they got married, he took on all the debt she had from when she was with my dad, and I get that it sucks, but he’s such an asshole about it. My mom was gonna let me use their old car, but he said no because their insurance would go up. He gets mad if he has to spend money on me.”

“Can’t your dad help?”

Brooke looked embarrassed for the first time. Or maybe sad. She slumped a little and glanced down at her crossed arms. “He hasn’t, you know, paid child support in a long time.”

Ryan was shocked she’d share so much with him. He felt weirdly special. They sat in expectant silence for a moment.

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to go off like that. Tell me about your dad.”

“It’s okay. Not much to say. He moved to Michigan with his new wife when I was in fifth grade. I go see him every summer. It’s getting harder now with ball all year.”

“Do you like both your parents?”

Ryan nodded. He still couldn’t believe Brooke was talking to him like this. Telling him stuff and asking about him. Like she needed someone to talk to, which made no sense because she had a ton of friends.

“My dad was awesome,” she said. “He was never sad or mean. He made everything fun. Did you know he played minor-league baseball?”

“Really?” It explained how she knew so much about ball.

“Yeah. I used to go to his games and stand next to the dugout so I could listen to everything. But they let him go because he had a—” She cleared her throat. “A drinking problem. He couldn’t be serious about anything. Anyway . . . geez. That’s my sob story. I’m not usually such an oversharer. My friends don’t even know.”

She blushed and her body tightened. Ryan sat there basking in the incredible feeling that he knew something about her other people didn’t know. Then he realized he’d been quiet too long.

“It’s okay,” Ryan told her. He felt a little desperate to let her know he wasn’t judging her or her family. “What position did he play?”

His question made her relax, and her eyes came back to life.

“Shortstop. He was amazing, Ry. The Orioles were talking about moving him up. . . .”

Her voice trailed off and Ryan’s stomach contracted, because, dude . . . her dad had been living the dream and he’d blown it. Then he’d lost his wife and daughter, too. Ryan couldn’t fathom life spiraling out of control like that.

“Do you ever talk to him?” he asked.

“We’ve emailed a couple times over the years. He always makes it seem like things are great and he’s getting his act together, but then I go months without hearing from him again. It’s been a year since he wrote. Sometimes I think he forgets I exist.”

She stared at the river through the windshield, and Ryan wanted to touch her face—anything to make her frown go away.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she whispered, still looking straight ahead.

“Maybe you just need to get it off your chest,” he offered.

She looked at him with such openness it made him feel naked for a second, like they were sharing some crazy soul-bearing moment, and he had to swallow. He’d never felt something so intense with anyone, as if a mutual understanding had been forged without the need for words.

“I could probably tell you anything, huh?” she whispered.

“You could tell me anything.” You could tell me everything, and I’d want to hear it.

“And you’d never tell a soul.”

“No.”

There was trust in her eyes, and his desire to know everything about her suddenly became a need. Why was this girl affecting him like this?

She took a deep breath and reached down for her seat lever, leaning her seat all the way back. He felt his eyes go wide. Oh, God, she’s lying down in my car. Making herself comfortable. Why is she lying down? Should I do something? He didn’t know what to do with his hands, and he didn’t want her to know he was freaking out, so he rubbed his palms up and down his thighs. Brooke looked up at Ryan and let out a sweet laugh.

“You’re always so nervous around me.”

She sat up and leaned over his lap, sending Ryan’s heart into overdrive and making his blood pump to places he’d rather it not. With one hand she grabbed the seat lever next to his door and with the other hand she pushed his seat back until it was lying down. He went stiffly backward, as he stared up at her.

“Relax, Ry.” She patted his cheek, then lay back in her own seat. “I’m not gonna bite you.”

He sputtered out a nervous laugh. It took a few minutes for his pulse to calm. Ryan stared up at the shabby ceiling. He could tell she just wanted to chill and talk. He could manage that, right?

“Why do you always smell like cake?” he asked, immediately feeling stupid.

She giggled. “It’s my lotion.”

There was lotion that smelled edible? People were geniuses. He noticed she was watching him thoughtfully, so he tried to think of something to say.

“You’re an only child, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I always wished I had a big brother.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Only child. Wanted a big brother.”

“Sucks for us.” Brooke stuck out her fist and he bumped it with his. Ryan wondered if she ever felt as alone as him. He got along great with his mom, but she worked long hours as a nurse. He’d always wished for a loud houseful of people like some of his friends had.

“Have you applied to college?” he asked.

“Yep. I applied to UNC. My grandfather went there. He played baseball, too.”

“Wow, UNC.” That was kind of far—at least six hours away.

“I’ll be glad to get away. Ron the con only wants me to apply to in-state schools, but this is my dream.”

Just then Brooke gasped and tapped Ryan’s arm, pointing out the window. A doe and her fawn were walking across a path ten feet away from the car. Ryan glanced at Brooke and saw tenderness in her face as she watched.

“They look happy,” she whispered.

She looked sort of wistful, and he wondered what was going on in that head of hers.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” Brooke asked.

“Uh . . .” He shrugged.

“I know two pretty sophomore girls who like you. Sarah what’s-her-name and that short girl Michelle with the brown, curly hair. I heard them talking about you in the bathroom.” Brooke lifted her eyebrows.

“Oh, Michelle Vasquez and Sarah Picard? No, they’re just my friends.”

“Mmhm . . . is this part of your shy thing?” She grinned, making him squirm a little.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m serious.”

He stared at her lips and wondered what she’d do if he leaned over and kissed her. He imagined her opening her mouth for him and going wild for his touch, though he knew realistically she’d be more likely to smack him.

He tried to concentrate as she continued talking. “Being single kind of sucks. I’m sure you’ll hear about this if you haven’t already, but I was dating J.J. for a while. I’ve known him forever, so I should have known better than to go out with him. You know J.J.?”

Ryan nodded, appalled. Everyone knew the all-star varsity pitcher J.J. McDonald. Did Brooke have any idea what kind of shit that guy talked in the locker room? If any girl could hear him, she’d steer clear. Or maybe not. Girls were kind of weird like that.

Brooke must have been able to read the revulsion on his face.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “He’s a jerk, right? I thought he’d be nicer since we were friends for so long.”

“What happened?”

Brooke hesitated, parting her lips and then closing them again before working up her nerve.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” She gave him a serious, imploring look. “Because I hate when people get in my business, and everyone freaking worships J.J.”

Ryan knew this. J.J. was one of those popular guys with a big mouth who could get away with anything—a jerk one minute, then class clown, then a charmer, and back to a jerk. J.J.’d always been cool to Ryan, nicknaming him “the Kid,” but he didn’t like the idea of him dating Brooke.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I won’t tell anyone.”

She looked down at her fingers. “He got mad ’cause I didn’t wanna do it with him. He said I was the prudest non-virgin he’s ever met.”

Ryan’s gut twisted in a fit of jealousy, which he knew was stupid. Brooke’s gaze dropped and her shoulders slumped, like she was ashamed.

Whatever her past, she was amazing to him. Leave it to a dick like J.J. to make her feel bad and use her past to try and manipulate her.

“He’s a douche,” Ryan said, knowing full well he’d never have the balls to say it to J.J.’s face. But at least it made Brooke relax a little.

“I had a boyfriend my whole tenth-grade year,” Brooke explained. “He was kind of a troublemaker, though. He got transferred to this alternative school because he had a lot of issues. Fighting and drugs.”

“Oh . . .” Ryan couldn’t picture her with someone like that. Apparently Brooke was one of those girls who went for assholes. Even more of a sign that he was crazy to feel this way about her.

She seemed to read his mind, and started to explain her past actions.

“He wasn’t always bad. When we were together, he made me laugh. I thought he’d chill out and grow up. Then I found out he was cheating. Guess I wasn’t enough for him.” She picked at a string on the bottom of her shirt, the hurt obvious in her voice.

They were both lying on their sides now, facing each other. Ryan was surprised how comfortable he felt, given the subject matter.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re single.” Dude, Ryan, shut up. “I mean, not because . . . I—”

Brooke’s giggle cut him off. She reached over and put her fingers on his sleeve. His skin tingled under the cotton.

“Yeah, there are worse things than being single.” Brooke looked at the clock and sighed. “I guess we should go.”

Damn. She was right, but he didn’t want to go. He wanted everything outside the car to disappear. For a second, Ryan felt reckless.

“Wanna put my seat up for me?” he asked. “Since you’re so good at it and all?”

She laughed and gave his arm a shove. “Nice try, Ry.”

Ryan felt a little more like himself now that he’d had the nerve to flirt, earning him another gorgeous smile.

When he drove her home, she sat in the car for a minute, looking up at her two-story brick rambler, which put Ryan and his mom’s little town house to shame.

“Thanks for driving me. It was nice. Maybe you could drive me home again another time?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Anytime.”

Brooke smoothed back some stray strands of hair. “And . . . thanks for listening to me babble.”

She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his cheek before disappearing inside her house.

CHAPTER TWO

At practice that day, Ryan hit better than he ever had, baseballs banging off the gym’s high ceiling. J.J. couldn’t get a single strike off him. Steve, the third baseman, gave J.J. a hard time when they took a water break.

“How are we gonna beat the Raiders next week if you can’t even strike out a sophomore?” Steve smacked Ryan on the butt with his glove to let him know he was joking. Steve was a senior and always keeping an eye on Ryan.

“Shut up, Steve,” J.J. said. “At least I’m not Brooke Bennett’s little bitch like Ry-Ry McPhearson.” Some of the guys laughed, but Ryan just looked away. He knew J.J. was pissed because he wasn’t used to losing, but he wished he wouldn’t drag Brooke into it. Especially after what she’d told him.

“Hey, McPhearson,” J.J. continued, “quit wasting your time, bro. Brooke flirts but she don’t put out. And definitely not for a tenth grader.”

Ryan’s face heated with a sudden, intense anger.

J.J. walked up and stood over Ryan as he sat at the bottom of the bleachers, staring at the glove in his hands. He told himself to ignore J.J.’s taunts. Everyone knew he was a smack talker. Ryan was the newbie on the team and didn’t want to do anything to get himself demoted to JV, but J.J. just wouldn’t let it go. He stood over Ryan, smirking.

“She’s a tease, man. You wanna hang with her, you better get used to having blue balls.”

Ryan stood up and looked the tall, lanky pitcher in the eye. His body was tight and he dropped his glove to the floor, hands balled up. J.J. grinned in amusement as the team huddled around them.

“Damn, the Kid’s got it bad,” J.J. said.

Their coach, who’d been watching it all play out from a chair, hollered without getting up.

“Quit actin’ like a bunch of dang girls! Gimme ten laps around the gym. All of you! We don’t need this horse crap with our first game in a week. Go on. Get your asses out there!”

The guys didn’t hold grudges. After their near fight in the gym, J.J. was cool with Ryan again. He joked and swatted his butt with his glove, still calling him “the Kid.” Ryan would have paid good money for a different nickname, but it stuck.

The next week at their first game, Ryan did his best to act like the older guys. He ignored the girls yelling in the stands. Practically half the sophomore girls had come out to cheer him on. He was next up at bat. He licked his lips, spit to the side, and scuffed his cleats in the dirt next to home plate.

“You got this, Ry,” he heard Brooke say as he readied his stance. Adrenaline poured through his system as he honed his sights on the pitcher’s body movements, his windup signaling a fastball on its way, then he crushed the ball for a double, sending two players home. Ryan was in the zone. He could no longer hear the cheers or jeers, even from Brooke.

He wouldn’t allow himself to glance toward the dugout or stands while he was in position at right field; this set of batters was all about the pop-ups and he had to keep his eyes open. Between innings he sneaked glances at Brooke as she called out the next lineups and prepared water bottles for the team.

“Pitcher keeps catching you with that curveball to the outside,” she said to Steve during the seventh inning stretch.

“Yeah, I know.” He frowned, tapping his bat on his heel to knock off a clump of grass.

“Just adjust your stance and go in for it,” she advised.

“Yup.” And that’s exactly what Steve did at his next at bat, earning himself a single.

After the game Ryan walked casually to the parking lot with the other guys, pretending not to notice the girls waiting for them. He kept a straight face when Brooke jogged up.

“Hey. Good game, Ry.”

He felt the eyes of his teammates on them. He gave a nod and put his bat bag in the trunk of his car. He was afraid if he looked at her, she’d turn him into a grinning ball of mush, and they’d all be able to see exactly how he felt.

She leaned toward him and whispered, a trace of humor in her voice. “You’re welcome, tough guy.” Then she walked away, high-fiving the other guys as she went and spouting off ball talk that they responded to as if she was one of them. No other girl could be taken seriously like that. She even complimented J.J. on his four-inning no-hitter, earning a respectful nod.

Ryan purposely didn’t look at Brooke the next day in the halls. Things had cooled down, but he didn’t want to give J.J. a reason to talk any more shit. He didn’t want trouble on the team, but most of all he didn’t want any drama to spill over and affect Brooke. Any time he spent with her would have to be without prying eyes on them.

Brooke surprised Ryan after school by waiting next to his car.

“Too cool for me now?” she asked. Her smile was small and not as confident as usual, stirring bad feelings in him. Ryan suddenly felt like a complete ass. He’d only done it for her own good. Hell, he didn’t think she’d care that much.

Now he wanted to reassure her. “You know you’re the cool one, Brooke.” His cheek pulled to the side in a grin. “Wanna ride?” he asked. In the pause before she answered, he felt the familiar stretch of nervousness and excitement in his stomach when he didn’t know if she’d accept or reject.

Brooke bit her bottom lip and nodded.

From that day on, Ryan drove Brooke home after school. Some days he drove a couple of his sophomore friends, too, but Brooke always had shotgun. The other guys were just as enamored in her presence, hanging on her every word, smiling like a bunch of geeks and goofing off to impress her. She laughed at all the right times and actually seemed to like their attention.

But when it was just the two of them they never went straight home. He would drive her for fries and a Coke. Or they’d go back to the state park and just talk. As the weather got warmer, they walked down by the Potomac River together, putting their feet in the water and trying to catch frogs. Ryan never knew there was so much to talk about with a girl. Some nights when they came home from practice, they’d chat online for hours about nothing and everything.

She’d call him, crying, when her stepdad, Ron, made dick comments. She’d talk about the drama among her friends. They’d talk about baseball, her being an Orioles fan and him a Braves guy. He ragged on the O’s mercilessly, because they sucked, but she took it like a champ. And he had to admit, it was a total turn-on when she recited batting stats.

He knew Brooke only thought of him as a friend, but that didn’t stop him from wishing and flirting every time he worked up the nerve. She always laughed it off like he was joking.

But he wasn’t joking. And he couldn’t help but hope.

CHAPTER THREE

On a Friday in April, Brooke called Ryan after practice.

“Hey! Can you come over for a minute? I want to show you something.”

She sounded excited, piquing Ryan’s curiosity. “Yeah, sure.”

Ryan took a speed shower and was in his car ten minutes later. He was surprised to see Brooke’s friend Jackie’s car and two others parked outside Brooke’s house. Her mom’s car wasn’t there; she must have still been at work. Brooke let him in and led him to her bedroom in the basement. He’d never been down there before. They’d hung out only in her living room and kitchen because her parents had strict rules about boys.

Ryan felt light-headed when he entered Brooke’s room and was surrounded by the overpowering scent of her. His head swirled with vanilla cookies. He wet his lips and swallowed, leaning against the wall as casually as he could manage.

He was the only guy down there, but Brooke’s girlfriends all greeted him and seemed to think nothing of it. Brooke’s Orioles and boy band posters were plastered around the room. Her taste in music and teams were equally atrocious. Brooke’s friends spread themselves across her bed on their stomachs, and they hushed when she went to her dresser and pulled out a piece of paper, wearing a mischievous smile.

“I wanted all my best friends together ’cause I have something to show you. . . . I got accepted to UNC!” She thrust the acceptance letter forward and everyone screamed, jumping up, bouncing around the room, and hugging her. Ryan’s stomach dropped. He was flooded with a strange sense of fear and sadness at the thought of Brooke being gone within a matter of months. So far away.

But when she turned to him, beaming, he forced a smile and said, “That’s awesome.” She hugged him, squeezing his neck tight, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist, he saw her friends exchange glances. They knew how he felt about her, but he didn’t care.

Ryan caught sight of movement at the door when Brooke’s parents came down, still dressed nice from work.

“You’re home!” Brooke bounced on her toes.

“Hello, girls,” Brooke’s mother said. “Oh, and Ryan. What’s everyone so excited about?” Brooke handed her the letter. She read it over and then broke into a smile.

“Brooke, this is wonderful! Congratulations!”

Ron took the letter and read it as Brooke’s mother gave her a hug.

“Have you heard from any of the other schools?” Ron asked.

Brooke stiffened as she pulled from her mom’s embrace. “Um . . . I didn’t apply to any other schools,” she said in a small voice.

The room went silent.

“Oh, honey . . .” Her mother’s posture sank.

“Mom, you know this is my dream,” she pleaded.

Her mom looked away and closed her eyes, as if bracing herself.

“There are perfectly good schools here in Virginia,” Ron said. His voice grew louder as he spoke. “Out-of-state tuition is outrageous.”

“I’m applying for student loans,” Brooke said.

“That’s not the point! We’ll still have to drive you, and there are other expenses to consider. You’re being selfish, Brooke, and you know what? I can’t say I’m surprised.” He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and scrubbed his face, mumbling under his breath, “Just like her damned father.”

“Ron!” her mother hissed as her eyes skittered across all the people in the room.

The blood drained from Brooke’s pink cheeks, leaving her ghostly pale. It was the first time Ryan had witnessed one of Ron’s cutting comments. He’d sometimes wondered if Brooke was overreacting or being too sensitive when she talked about her stepdad. Now he knew she wasn’t.

“I think it’s time for everyone to leave,” Ron said, then turned and stalked from the room. Brooke’s mom gave her a sad glance before following him.

Ryan watched Brooke, expecting her to cry, but she didn’t. She stood rubbing her arms, eyes zoning out like she was in some self-preservation mode. He looked at Jackie, who stood with a hand covering her mouth.

“Go ahead, you guys. I’ll be okay,” Brooke said. The girls left the basement quietly, squeezing Brooke’s arm as they passed, but Ryan didn’t move. He took her hand and she looked up at him with glazed eyes.

“You did it, Brooke.”

She watched him blankly, and he put both hands on her shoulders, squeezing until her eyes cleared and she really looked at him. Then he said the words that pained him.

“You got in, and now you can get far away from here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The following Monday, Brooke approached Ryan in the parking lot after school.

Ryan wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way she’d stopped asking for rides and it was assumed he’d take her home every day.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t need a ride today.”

“You going with Jackie?” he asked.

“Um, no. Actually, Steve is taking me today.”

It took a moment for Ryan to regain his center of gravity enough to nod. Brooke reached up and gave him a quick hug before running over to Steve’s blue truck. Steve waved at Ryan and Ryan waved back, but he suddenly felt like the kid everyone called him. Steve had three inches and fifteen pounds on Ryan, and he probably had to shave every day. When Steve’s truck engine roared to life, Ryan became very aware of his rundown toy box in comparison with the new 4x4.

With every minute he’d spent with Brooke, he’d let his hopes rise. When he made her laugh, he sometimes forgot they weren’t equals. There were times he thought he stood a fighting chance at her heart. But as reality set in, so did a sour, churning pit inside him. How could he have ever thought Brooke would look at him and see something other than what he was? A kid in love with a girl way out of his league.

Steve drove Brooke home every day that week. On Friday, Ryan saw Steve kiss her against his truck before opening the passenger door for her. Ryan’s breath was shallow as he climbed in his car and slammed the door. He peeled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires, a feat of which he hadn’t even known the toy box was capable. He didn’t look back, afraid the burn in his eyes would turn to actual tears, which he’d never live down.

At home, Ryan’s mom studied his face when he walked in.

“Bad day at school, kiddo?”

“Please, Mom. Don’t call me that.”

He all but stomped to his room, but she was right behind him up the stairs, standing in the doorway while he threw himself on the bed.

“Can I make you a snack?”

“No,” he snapped. When she put a hand on her hip, he amended his response. “No, thank you.”

She left him alone for an hour, then brought in a glass of water. She sat on the end of the bed, and he pulled his knees up.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

He wrestled with whether or not to say anything, but decided to open his mouth.

“You know Brooke? The team manager?”

His mom nodded. “She’s a sweet girl. She always comes and talks to me in the stands. And I know the two of you spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, well . . .” He cleared his throat. “I guess she’s Steve’s girlfriend now.”

His mom bit her lip and nodded. “Does she know how you feel?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious. Everyone knows.”

“But have you actually said the words?”

Frustration flared in his chest. “What’s the point, Mom? She’s a senior. She treats me like I’m her little brother or something.”

His mom readjusted her hip to scoot closer to him on the bed.

“Ryan, listen. In a couple years when you’re both out of high school, the age difference won’t even matter, trust me.”

“I don’t want to wait a couple years!”

His mom spoke so calmly that it drove him mad. “Honey, I remember what it felt like to be a teenager. It felt like school was the whole world, and there was nothing beyond that, but it’s not true. You’ve got a big, incredible life waiting for you. And the right girl is out there.”

“I don’t want any other girl.” His mom wasn’t understanding. She couldn’t fathom how Brooke had filled up his whole heart and left no room for the possibility of anyone else.

Ryan couldn’t stand the look of pity his mom gave him, so he turned his face away from her. A few minutes passed in silence before she patted his arm and Ryan heard her footsteps on the carpet as she left the room. He swiped a few hot tears from his cheeks, hating himself for crying like the little kid he was.

Over the next two weeks, Ryan avoided Brooke at school and went home immediately after his games. He heard her calling his name after one game, but he wasn’t ready to talk yet. He didn’t want her pity, and he didn’t want to have to look at the lips that were kissing Steve every day. With sure, deliberate movements Ryan got in his car and drove away, ignoring the sight of Brooke jogging after him in the rearview mirror. He kept driving, though it felt like a load of bricks had been dumped on his chest.

At school the next day, they made eye contact from down the hall, and he ducked into the men’s room. Thirty seconds later he heard the door open and a pair of heeled shoes clicked in. He was leaning against the sink and felt his eyes pop wide when Brooke walked around the corner. Only Brooke Bennett would walk into the boy’s bathroom. It almost made him grin, but the pain inside him shot down that reaction.

A freshman boy walked in after her, ogled the two of them, and then spun back around and left.

“Why are you avoiding me?” she asked with a hand on her hip.

Couldn’t she see? Ryan was sick of being the nice guy. Guys like J.J. could be assholes and everyone still loved them. Ryan tried to do everything right, but it didn’t get him crap.

“I wouldn’t want to piss off Steve by hanging out with you.”

“Steve doesn’t care! He knows we’re friends.”

Friends. Ryan knew his face was hard when he looked at her.

“You have enough friends, Brooke. You don’t need some tenth-grade guy. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I’m pathetic because of you. Go talk to Jackie if you need a friend.”

He thought it would feel good to say it, but he only felt gutted. Her eyes watered and he wanted to take it all back.

“That’s just great, Ry. Thanks a lot.” Her voice sounded choked, and she turned and walked out.

Before practice, Ryan was in the dugout, leaning his forehead against the chain-link barrier and staring out at the field. He heard J.J. and Steve talking in the corner.

“You and Brooke getting a hotel room for prom?” J.J. asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve said. “Her mom’s making her be home by twelve thirty. She even tried to say she was staying with Jackie, but they weren’t buying it.”

“That sucks. Guess you won’t be gettin’ any.”

Ryan bristled and looked over at them against his better judgment. Steve didn’t respond, just shrugged. He methodically pulled on his batting gloves as J.J. analyzed him with his eyes.

“Unless . . . you already did, didn’t you?” J.J. threw his head back and hooted and clapped his hands. Some of the other guys started coming over to see what was going on.

“Naw, come on, keep it down,” Steve told him.

But J.J. kept on, a lascivious grin stretching across his face. “What’d you have to do to hit that, man?”

“Dude. Fuck off.” Steve tried to walk away, but guys were packed around him.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“Steve got laid.” J.J. said this last sentence with an indecent move of his hips, and some of the guys started laughing and smacking Steve on the back. Ryan tasted bile, but he couldn’t move and he couldn’t look away. Steve brushed them all off, a hard look on his face.

“How was it?” J.J. asked.

“We’re not having this conversation.” Steve’s voice took an edgy tone, which only fueled that bastard J.J.

“That bad, huh? What’d she do? Just lay there?”

For a second Steve had rage in his eyes and Ryan hoped someone would beat J.J.’s ass once and for all, but Steve was too levelheaded for that. Instead, he pointed a finger in J.J.’s face and spoke through gritted teeth. “Shut up, man. It’s not like that.”

Ryan couldn’t feel his legs as he walked away from the group. He had tunnel vision as he turned the corner behind the dugout, picked up a stray ball, and threw it as hard as he could. With a bang, he dented the door to the concession stand.

Steve came around the corner, his jaw clamped tight. When he saw Ryan, his eyes softened. “Sorry,” Steve said.

“For what?” Ryan shrugged and stood frozen in defiance of the sickening emotions crashing through him. “Let’s just play ball.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The next day, Ryan found Brooke leaning against his car after school. He saw her red eyes a second before she turned away from him. He rushed the last few feet until he was at her side, dropping his backpack to the pavement.

“What happened?”

“Me and Steve broke up.” She sniffled, and conflicting feelings burned inside Ryan—happiness that she was single and sadness to see her hurting. “Do you think you’re allowed to be my friend now?”

Without a word, Ryan opened the passenger door and she climbed in. She stared silently out the window the whole drive home until he pulled up in front of her house.

“Why’d you break up?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Her tone was laden with sarcasm. “I guess it hasn’t leaked down to the underclassmen yet, but it will. Steve told a bunch of the baseball guys we had sex.” She blinked hard and tears fell.

“He was so nice. Jackie told me we should slow down, but it felt different with him.” She sniffled loudly. “Now girls are like ‘Oh my God, they weren’t even together a month and they did it!’ And guys are staring at me like . . . ugh!”

Ryan’s jealousy of Steve almost kept him quiet. Then he remembered the regretful look in Steve’s eyes.

“I was there, Brooke. Steve didn’t tell him. J.J. guessed, and he was egging him on. Steve didn’t even want to talk about it.”

“I don’t care how it happened. He could have denied it to shut J.J. up. He swore he wouldn’t tell. Now it’s two days until senior prom and I have no date, but I have to freaking go because I’m on the stupid prom court! And I begged my mom to buy me that stupid dress that was on the clearance rack, so it can’t even be taken back.”

Her tears were really streaming now, and it tore at Ryan’s heart. His instincts screamed for him to fix this. But how? He ground his teeth together and thought. Senior girls should not have to miss their prom, and they shouldn’t have to go alone. He knew that kind of stuff mattered to them.

“I can take you . . . if you want. I mean, I know I’m not a senior, and I don’t have money for a limo. We’d have to take the toy box, so I understand if you don’t want to.” Ryan held his breath. Brooke stopped crying and looked at him.

“You would take me? You’re not embarrassed?”

“Embarrassed?” What the hell was she talking about? “I could never be embarrassed of you.”

Ryan’s mother took him to five different tuxedo shops during those two days, before they found one that still had an available tux in his size. Then she took him to a flower shop and helped him pick out a wrist corsage with a little white rose. He wanted everything to be just right for Brooke.

Saturday night, Ryan posed for about thirty pictures.

“You have to bring Brooke back here so I can get a picture of you two together.”

“No time, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and rushed off, calling over his shoulder. “We’ll buy pictures!”

When Ryan got to Brooke’s neighborhood, he almost didn’t see her sitting on the curb at the end of her street. He pulled over and jumped out of the car.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked.

“Ry, wow, you look great.” She stared up at him and then stood, wobbling slightly in her high heels. Her hair was up in some fancy twist thing and she wore a black strapless dress that looked silky. It was tight and flattering all the way down to her high heels.

Looking at her made the blood rush hot through his veins.

Unable to say anything, he just opened the passenger door and let her in.

When he got in on his side, he held out the corsage. Her eyes watered when she saw it. He slipped it on her wrist and she hugged him. That’s when he smelled the liquor. His chest constricted with worry.

“Why aren’t you at your house?”

“My mom and Ron are fighting.”

“About you?”

She nodded. “I was going to do my hair myself, but my mom was all excited, so she took me to have it done. So now Ron’s mad that she spent more money than what he’d budgeted for prom.”

What a jerk.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go and have a good time, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

When they got on the highway, Brooke pulled a miniature plastic bottle of rum out of her purse. Ryan looked from the road back to Brooke as she tilted her head and drank.

“What are you doing?!” He grabbed for the bottle, but she snatched it away.

“Uh-uh! You can’t have any, mister, ’cause you’re driving.” She giggled.

Holy crap, she’d had more than he thought. Ryan managed to grab the bottle on his second try. Then he rolled down his window and threw it out. Brooke gasped and broke into a fit of laughter.

“Litterbug!”

He couldn’t bring himself to smile or laugh with her. “You don’t need that shit.”

Her demeanor changed, and the smile fell from her face.

“Don’t be mad at me, Ry. I hate when you’re mad at me.”

Her eyes stared at his face, imploring.

“I’m not mad.”

Brooke grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together, then pulled it to her lap and held it there.

They were silent the rest of the ride. At the prom they sat quietly at their table while waiting for her friends to arrive. Her eyes were somewhere far away. Ryan didn’t know if Brooke was sad that she was there with him instead of Steve, or if she was still thinking about her parents. Maybe she was sleepy from the alcohol.

Ryan saw two girls, juniors, staring at them and whispering, obviously gossiping about Brooke. Ryan stared back until they looked away. Worry about your own damned business, he thought.

When Jackie got there, she and Brooke disappeared into the bathroom for a while. Ryan nodded at a few of the senior ballplayers, who all seemed amped up in their tuxes. Steve wasn’t there.

Someone hooked an arm around Ryan’s neck from behind and scrubbed a knuckle on top of his head. He struggled out of the grip and turned to see J.J. looking sharp, laughing. Ryan ran a hand over his head and grinned. He sort of had a love-hate thing when it came to J.J. The guy could be a total dick, but then he could be so cool.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Kid?” he asked, pulling out a chair and straddling it.

“Nothing, man. Just . . . brought Brooke.”

J.J.’s eyebrows went up, but for once he had the good sense not to say anything. Ryan wondered if he felt bad about what had gone down with Brooke and Steve.

“Aren’t you just a sweetheart?” J.J. gave Ryan a punch in the arm and then pulled a can of snuff from his pocket. He peered around before offering the tobacco to Ryan.

“Nah,” Ryan said. “Thanks.”

J.J. shrugged and stuffed his lip full of the black stuff before leaving Ryan without a word and heading for the dance floor.

When Brooke and Jackie emerged from the bathroom with two of their friends, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. She looked happy.

Brooke went straight to him, taking his hands.

“Come on!” she said. “Let’s dance.”

The relief Ryan felt faltered into worry at the smell of alcohol on her breath again. She tugged his hands, but he shook his head. A fast song was playing.

“I don’t dance. You guys go ahead.”

Brooke studied his face until he gave her a small smile. It must have appeased her because she turned for the dance floor. Ryan grabbed Jackie’s arm.

“Don’t let her drink any more,” he whispered.

Jackie gave him the kind of look girls normally reserved for puppies and kittens.

“She’s okay,” Jackie said. “She just needed to relax.”

He watched as she joined the girls inside the cluster of moving bodies.

The rest of the night went by without too much drama. The prom court was announced, Brooke being one of the princesses. She was ready to leave soon after they fit the tiny tiara on her head.

On the way home, Brooke leaned over toward Ryan while he was driving. Her eyes were half-closed and sleepy . . . so freakin’ sexy. When he felt her warm breath on his ear, he momentarily swerved out of the lane lines.

“Thank you for tonight,” she whispered. She stayed close, her warm vanilla scent holding him hostage. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He came to a stoplight and worked up as much nerve as he possibly could to turn his head two inches to the right and look at her.

His heart pounded, aching, sending a fiery burn down his limbs. He refused to look away from her but was terrified to make a move. She reached up and ran her fingers along the straight edges of his hair. Then she pressed her soft lips to his. Ryan felt a deep part of himself soar. He opened his mouth enough to make Brooke open hers, until their breaths came together.

A shrill honk sounded from behind Ryan and he jolted to see the light had turned green.

Ryan pressed the gas hard enough to squeak the tires and thrust them backward in their seats. She didn’t move away from him. While Brooke nuzzled his neck, he stared straight ahead for half a mile before speaking.

“I’m going to marry you someday, Brooke.”

He felt her shiver before she pulled away, biting her lip. She lifted her knees and curled up on the seat, closing her eyes.

“You’re too good to me, Ry.”

CHAPTER SIX

After graduation everyone hung out on a sandy patch at the river. It was mostly baseball players, both JV and varsity, and the groupies of the teams, like Brooke’s friends. Ryan wasn’t as ripped or big as the other guys, so he kept his shirt on unless he was going in the water. Brooke and all the other girls were in bikinis, sitting on towels in the sand. Ryan tried hard not to stare. He really did. But he ended up pulling the bill of his hat down low and allowing himself a moment to take in all of her shining skin—she must have been wearing some sort of tanning oil. She looked happy with her hair pulled up on top of her head, laughing with her friends.

He thought about the kiss—that too-brief moment they’d never again mentioned. He knew it had been her way of saying thank you, but it meant so much more to him.

When Brooke stood up to walk down to the water with Jackie, Ryan thought he might die from the beauty of it. Her body was his exact idea of female perfection. She had curves that showed she was soft in all the right places, and a waist that dipped inward. And, oh God, when Ryan saw she had those little dimples at the bottom of her spine, just above her bathing suit bottom, he had to breathe deep and get control of his thoughts.

He could hear two girls talking a few feet away.

“. . . should really wear a tankini or a one-piece.”

“Or at least a cover-up.”

It was two of his classmates, Michelle Vasquez and Sarah Picard. They were looking at Jackie and Brooke, but they couldn’t possibly be talking about their weight, because neither one of them was fat. Then again, Michelle and Sarah were skin and bones. Ryan wasn’t scared of girls his age, so he scooted right over and boldly asked, “Who are y’all talkin’ ’bout?”

They looked at each other and giggled.

“Nobody,” Sarah said, bringing her knees up and swishing her long blond hair to cover more of herself.

Michelle was wearing a tiny black sundress, but he could see the red bathing suit tied at her neck under her curly, dark hair. “Let me ask you a question,” she said. “Does it totally gross you out when you see a sort of . . . chubby girl wearing a bikini?”

“Uh . . .” Ryan scanned the entire riverfront of students and didn’t see anyone who matched that description. “No. I guess I don’t really think about it.”

“I mean, like, when you see thighs rubbing together when she walks?” she prompted.

He looked at Brooke and Jackie standing knee-deep in the gentle waves. Brooke’s toned thighs met in the center. It was so hot. Seriously, they could not be talking about her.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” he asked. He didn’t really like the thought of skinny legs with a gap between them. He didn’t want to worry about breaking a girl someday when he was lucky enough to hook up.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

“Why are you worrying about that kind of stuff anyway?” Ryan asked. The only girl he was used to hanging out with was Brooke, and she never bad-mouthed herself or her body.

“Because it’s gross,” Sarah said. She pinched the skin on the underside of her arm.

“That’s skin,” Ryan informed her. “Not fat.”

She made a face like he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I know!” Michelle said to Sarah. “When I sit down it squishes out my thighs and they look so big.” Both girls straightened out their legs and compared how the nonexistent fat spread out.

“Whatever,” Ryan said, standing up. Girls were so weird. “See y’all later.”

“Bye, Ryan,” they both chimed.

He went down to the water, and Brooke splashed at him with her foot.

“You better take your shirt off before you get a farmer’s tan,” she said.

He didn’t really want to, but at least he’d put on a little bit of weight that year, so he didn’t have a complete bird chest like he did last summer. Trying not to look nervous, Ryan pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it up to the sand. Jackie and Brooke openly checked him out as he rubbed a hand over his bare, smooth chest.

Dude, Ryan thought, girls can get away with all kinds of shit. Guys have to be stealthy about it or they get called pigs.

“You are so cute,” Jackie said, reaching up to ruffle his short hair. Ryan pulled away, grinning.

“You really are,” Brooke said with a smile. “I’m gonna come home from college and have to fight the girls away just to see you for a minute.”

In an earnest moment, Ryan grabbed her fingers with his. “You better come home to visit. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” she whispered.

Jackie made a gagging sound, and Ryan couldn’t believe they’d said that in front of her. Brooke shoved her friend and they both laughed.

All the guys on shore took to the water then, running and splashing before diving in. Someone jumped on Ryan’s back and he went under. He came up for air and saw Steve’s laughing face a second before he was dunked again. When he came back up, Steve had picked up Brooke while J.J. picked up Jackie, and they threw the girls into the water. Ryan stood and wiped the water from his face as he watched the recent grads swim together, screaming and laughing, all drama from the past four years set aside as if it had never happened.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ryan and Brooke spent a lot of time together that summer—sometimes hanging with all the gang and sometimes just the two of them. She came to his summer league games, and he went with her shopping to spend her graduation money on dorm stuff.

Brooke seemed to get sadder as the summer progressed, and she was drinking more and more at parties they’d go to. Ryan noticed with discomfort that she had a high tolerance, and when she drank she’d snap out of her sad funk and have a good time. He didn’t want her only happiness to come when she was drunk, but he didn’t know how to approach her about it without pushing her away.

So he said nothing.

One August afternoon they were sitting on his couch, watching baseball. She’d zoned out and gone quiet.

“I’m pretty sure Steve still likes you.” Ryan didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe it was because he thought she was lonely for a boyfriend, and in a moment of selflessness, he realized if he couldn’t have her, he wanted her to have a guy like Steve. Steve had kind of been cheated out of his chance by J.J. Not that Ryan was really complaining. In fact, he now wished he could take back the comment.

Brooke had her legs tucked beneath her and her elbow propped on the back of the couch, facing him. He held his breath for her reaction.

“It’s too late for us,” she said. “And I don’t want a long-distance relationship.”

Thoughts hurled themselves at Ryan, and the dull panic he’d suppressed all summer thrust itself to the forefront of his mind. She was pulling away. She’d been opening up to him less and less, more quiet in general.

“You’re not coming back, are you?” he asked.

She didn’t seem surprised by the question.

“I need a change, Ry.”

“I know, but . . .”

She reached across the space and took his hand. “We’ll email and Skype,” she promised. “I won’t forget about you.”

But he didn’t believe her. She’d grow roots where she was planted and come to life for all those new people. A fresh start. And though he probably should have been happy for her, it made him sick to his stomach. Because he knew he was losing her. They all were.

He picked her up the following weekend for the end-of-summer party at Jackie’s. The graduates would all be leaving that week, and it was a strange, bleak feeling being one of the ones left behind.

Ryan didn’t drink since he was driving, but he noticed a constant cup in Brooke’s hand. Ryan socialized with everyone and got a lot of attention as the only underclassman to be fully embraced by the older group. They kind of spoiled and teased him like a kid brother, and he had to admit he’d miss them. It was the end of an era.

The party got louder and rowdier as the night went on. It was their last night together, and they wanted to do it right. Jackie turned on the stereo in the living room and the girls gathered in a circle, singing to one another at the top of their lungs, drinks lifted high, and arms draped over shoulders. Most of the guys stood in the kitchen or sat at the table playing cards. They watched the girls and shook their heads at one another, but it was all in fun. Those were their girls. No matter where everyone ended up after this, they’d always be a part of one another—united in a shared past of hookups and breakups, love and heartache, choices and lessons.

At eleven o’clock Jackie’s older brother came in with a couple of his friends, carrying cases of beer under their arms. “Who’s up for some beer pong?” he asked.

The volume rose and the party shifted to the basement. Beer cans were everywhere. Half the people were sitting on couches or dancing to the music, while the other half crowded around the beer pong game.

One of Jackie’s brother’s friends was talking to Brooke—some older dude with slicked-back hair. He was a close talker, moving in until he had her by the wall. She shook her head and repeatedly tucked her hair behind her ears, giving the guy small, polite smiles as he spoke. Ryan watched from the other side of the room and saw the exact moment when the guy reached out for Brooke’s arm, spilling a little of the beer from her red cup.

Her body language spoke volumes when she tensed and her shoulders curled inward, like she was trying to make herself smaller. She angled herself away from him, eyes skittering around the room for an escape. Ryan was on his way before her eyes even made it to him. When she saw him, relief smoothed her features. He stuck out a hand and she took it.

“Ready to dance?” he asked.

The guy scowled at Ryan. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, I promised I’d dance with him,” Brooke told the guy.

She clung to Ryan’s arm as he led her away, until they were on the far side of the dancing group.

“Ugh!” She shook her hands out and stood close enough for Ryan to smell the beer on her. “That guy was toootally creepy!” She dragged out the words a little.

Ryan didn’t want to know what the guy had said to her. It would only piss him off and he didn’t want to have to fight some guy five years older than him. Instead he gently took the beer from her hand and set it on the dusty shelf by his head.

“No more, ’kay?” he said.

She looked at it longingly before nodding at him with reluctance.

J.J. took that inopportune moment to dance up behind Brooke. He leaned to her ear and spoke too loud.

“Hey, sexy. You gonna dance with me or stand here talking to the Kid all night?”

“Not right now, J.J.,” she said.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s our last night and you can’t even give me one dance?” J.J. wore his mischievous grin—the one that made most girls squeal and laugh.

Ryan froze when he saw J.J.’s hands slide around Brooke’s waist, up over her stomach, and land right on her perfect boobs. Too far. Ryan stepped forward just as Brooke swung around and slapped J.J.’s shoulder, then shoved him hard, making him stumble into other dancers. Brooke stumbled to the side, almost falling.

People yelled at them and J.J. frowned, holding up his hands.

“Chill out, Brooke! I was just messing around.”

She was on the verge of tears when she screamed and slightly slurred, “’s not funny, J.J.! You need to learn some boundaries!”

She ran from the basement, bumping into a few people along her way. Ryan glared at J.J., who flipped him the bird and smirked. Ryan shook his head and turned to follow Brooke. Jackie was two steps ahead of him. They got to the top of the stairs and heard a door slam past the kitchen.

“She’s in the laundry room,” Jackie whispered to him. “Give me a sec. She’s had a lot to drink.”

He followed her to the small room and stood outside while Jackie went in. She left the door open a crack so he could hear, and the sound of Brooke’s sobs nearly broke him.

“You okay, Brookie?”

“No,” Brooke choked out. “I’m so sick of guys. So sick of ’em.”

“What happened?”

“They treat me like a piece of meat. If I say no, I’m a tease. If I give ’em what they want, I’m a slut. I’m tired of it. Nobody cares about me.” She sucked in a sad, sobbing breath.

Ryan leaned his head against the wall while Jackie shushed her.

“Somebody cares about you,” Jackie said quietly, and opened the door.

Brooke was sitting on the dryer with her sandaled feet dangling down. When she saw Ryan, she reached out her hands, sending a shock of relief through his system.

He went straight to her, letting her pull him between her knees and wrap her arms around his neck while his went around her waist. He laid his face on her shoulder and felt her let out another shuddering sob.

Jackie left them in the dark, closing the door, and they stayed like that until her body stilled and the tears were gone. She rested her cheek on top of his head. He should have let her go then, but he didn’t. He made circles on her back with his fingers, and he felt her nails gently moving through the hair at the back of his head.

Ryan’s heart found a hard, steady rhythm. In the dark, so close, labels like age seemed to disappear, and nothing had ever felt as right as holding her.

“Remember what I said to you on prom night?” Ryan whispered.

“That you’re going to marry me?” she whispered back.

He breathed in the vanilla scent at her neck. “Yeah. That.”

He could hear her breathing right above him.

“I meant it, Brooke.”

She waited, and her voice was soft. “You know I love you, Ryan.”

He’d heard her say that a million times to her girlfriends.

“But not the same way I love you.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she sat up straighter, pulling back, and his hands stilled on her back. She ran her fingers along the planes and angles of his face, saving his lips for last, which she traced with her fingertips while he stayed very still.

He wanted this. More than anything in the world he wanted this. But did that make him as big of a bastard as all the other guys who wanted something from her? Was he wrong to want all of her?

The feel of her soft lips against his silenced those thoughts. They pulled each other closer and kissed. Really kissed. He could taste the maltiness of beer on her tongue. And while Ryan’s greedy body ordered him to go for more as quickly as he could, he forced himself to keep his hands at her back and kiss her with as much tenderness as possible so that when this night was over, she’d know it meant more to him than just a hookup.

But then Brooke moaned from her throat and said, “Ry . . .” in a raspy voice, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him up against her.

That’s when it got serious. His hands pushed into her hair and their mouths moved together with desperation. He felt her body push against his and he nearly lost his mind. Every muscle was tensed and ready for her, the same way he felt before a big game.

Brooke broke away, panting. “Geez, Ryan, where did you learn to kiss like that?”

He grinned in the dark. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

This made her laugh and he leaned forward to catch her mouth with his until they were frantically kissing again. He never wanted to leave that dark room. He wanted to move in and live there, kissing Brooke forever.

After who knows how long, she pulled back and placed a sweet peck on his lips. Ryan had kissed a few girls before, but it’d been nothing like what he and Brooke had just done. He doubted anything would ever be able to compare.

“We’re going to regret this tomorrow, aren’t we?” Brooke asked.

“You might. Not me.”

She leaned her forehead against his.

“Listen,” Ryan began.

“Ry . . .”

“No, listen.” He gathered the fabric of the back of her shirt in his hands. “I know you don’t want a long-distance relationship, and I know you only see me as a friend, and I know this night was just a fluke . . . but someday . . . maybe . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to voice his hopes.

“Someday,” she whispered back. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

For two people who were far apart, it was hard to hold on to “someday.” The world kept moving, and they were expected to continue having a part in it.

They emailed a lot her first couple of months away, but they never talked about the kiss. He was sure she regretted that night and was either embarrassed or worried about encouraging him. He hated feeling like she was pushing him away, and he hated even more that he couldn’t stop holding on. He just kept reaching. . . .

McPhearNumber9: Hey, what’s up? I got a pic of the tree next to the ball field today for you. The leaves are all red. I know autumn’s your favorite season.

WaterGirlBrooke: Oh, that’s so pretty! I miss it. The leaves are just starting to change here.

McPhearNumber9: Did you decide what you’re going to be when you grow up?

WaterGirlBrooke: lol, I think so. I’m majoring in journalism. I think I want to be a sports journalist.

McPhearNumber9: Sweet. I can see you as the hot sports chick announcer.

WaterGirlBrooke: Ha! I don’t know about all that. We’ll see what happens. :)

McPhearNumber9: Hear from your parents much?

WaterGirlBrooke: Ugh. My mom calls every Sunday, but we only talk for a minute. And I wasn’t going to tell anyone this, but I got an email from my dad.

McPhearNumber9: For real? That’s awesome! What did he say? And why weren’t you going to tell anyone?

WaterGirlBrooke: Because every year when he gets in contact with me he says the same thing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the best dad to you, Brookelynn. I’m working some things out, trying to get my life in order, and then I’ll make it up to you.” Blah, blah. I can’t even tell you how much these messages used to get my hopes up. I really used to believe he’d show up one day, all sober and ready to be my dad. But it never happened. And even now when I got this stupid message this week I still let myself be happy for a minute and imagine it. I’m tired of it. I’ve kept the same email address all these years and for the first time I’m thinking of shutting down that account.

Ryan’s stomach burned when he read her message.

McPhearNumber9: I’m sorry. Don’t shut down the account. Wish I was there to hug you.

WaterGirlBrooke: Me, too.

McPhearNumber9: Cyber hug?

WaterGirlBrooke: Sure, but no groping.

McPhearNumber9: Dude. You are no fun.

WaterGirlBrooke: lol <3 ya. Don’t be late to practice. Hit one out for me.

It was one of their longest conversations that fall.

At Thanksgiving, Brooke went to one of her sorority sister’s houses instead of coming home. At Christmas, she only came home four days. They saw each other two of them, and it’d been like no time had passed, which almost made things worse . . . harder. She still filled a room with her smile, and her hugs were like currency, making him long for riches. But when she returned to school, it was as if he no longer existed. Her replies to his emails were filled with smiley faces, but they were short. Too short. He felt shut out of her life.

In February when he turned seventeen, he got drunk for the first time—the stupid, fall-down-and-say-things-you-regret kind of drunk. Just before he puked his guts out in his friend Jake’s toilet, he sat on the edge of the tub and called Brooke.

“Ry?” It sounded loud, like she was at a party. “Did you get my text? Happy birthday!”

“Hey there, you,” he said. At least, that’s what he thought he said, until Brooke burst out laughing.

“What? Are you drunk, Ry?”

“Nah. Just a littlest bit.”

The sound of her laughter was so delicious.

“I just wanna eat you up, Brookie. But you already know that. Yeah.”

“Oh, wow. You are so gone. Who’s there with you? They need to put your butt to bed.”

“I’ll tell you what I need do with my butt. I need to come down there and kiss you again.”

She got quiet and the room started to spin. Ryan felt uneasy but didn’t understand why.

“Seriously,” she finally said, “where are you? I’m worried.”

“I’m just . . . right here. An’ I still love you.”

“Ry—”

“Stop, I know. I know you forgot about me, but I ain’t a kid anymore.”

“I haven’t forgotten you, Ryan.” It was quieter now, like she’d stepped outside.

“Then why don’t you talk to me anymore? Who do you tell all your shit to? Huh?”

“Nobody,” she whispered. The pain in her voice made him close his eyes.

That was the last he remembered of their conversation when he woke up on the bathroom rug the next morning, and he wished he couldn’t remember that humiliating amount of it. He didn’t have the nerve to call her, so he texted later that day, feeling sick again as soon as he sent it.

Sorry about last night.

She responded right away.

lol. Just glad u r ok.

He was too embarrassed to say anything else. She wrote him even less after that, as if his drunken declaration forced the chasm between them even deeper.

Ryan was so glad when the spring baseball season started. He threw himself into practices and games and let it take over his life more than ever, hitting the weights and batting cage every day they’d let him. His team did well that season, winning regionals and almost making it to states. Seeing their dedication pay off gave him a huge sense of gratification. They were a young team, nearly all juniors, so they’d be even better next year.

He shared all the stats with Brooke, and knew her enthusiasm was sincere when she responded. He just wished there was something other than baseball he could get her to talk to him about.

In May, his stomach dropped with disappointment when she wrote and said she decided to stay at school to take summer classes.

A month later he ran into Jackie at a party.

“You talked to Brooke lately?” she asked.

He told her about the last message he’d gotten and she sighed.

“Yeah, we don’t talk much anymore. She has all her sorority sisters now. I guess her sorority is all hard-core, almost getting kicked off campus and whatnot.”

“For what?” he asked.

“Hazing.”

When his eyebrows went up, she explained, “Mostly drinking stuff.”

Ryan didn’t like the sound of that; in fact, it caused a moment of panic to flare inside him. He imagined Brooke blindfolded and forced to drink too much, and it made him want to throttle someone, even if it was something she’d signed up for. Jackie sipped her beer and offered more information.

“She came up to visit me at school in February. One of her friends drove her. It was awesome to see her, but, oh my gosh . . . she got so freaking wasted and passed out in the guy’s car who was driving us. We had to carry her and sneak her in my dorm.”

Jackie laughed at the memory, as if it had been a good time, but Ryan could only nod, deep in dark thoughts about all the dangers Brooke was getting herself into. Did Jackie still not know about Brooke’s family history? He didn’t think she’d make light of the drinking thing if she did. Part of him wanted to tell Jackie, but he couldn’t bring himself to betray Brooke’s trust.

“Does she have a boyfriend?” he asked, even though he didn’t want to know.

Jackie snorted. “When does Brooke not have a boyfriend?”

At the look on his face she quickly clarified. “I mean, she dates, you know? It never gets serious-serious. She’ll have a boyfriend for a few months, then she’ll be single a couple weeks, then another guy. You know how she is, Ryan. And it’s only gotten worse.”

He’d been clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap the whole time she was speaking, trying not to breathe too fast.

“Why does she do that?” His voice sounded angry, despite his effort not to appear fazed.

Jackie just patted his forearm and sighed. “Trying to prove something to herself, maybe? I don’t know. She’s got a lot of hurt inside. Hopefully she’ll come back to us someday when she’s done searching for love in the wrong places.”

Searching for love.

It’s right here, Brooke, Ryan thought. Right freaking here.

Jackie left him sitting there, seething in pain and anger, while she joined in a hand of cards. She sat there laughing, happy. Ryan knew Jackie loved Brooke, and she’d been pushed away by her just as he had. But Jackie had moved on, just like Ryan should.

He looked over at the group of girls across the room, who were always trying to get his attention. They got quiet when they saw him looking, so he dropped his gaze and heard hushed giggles erupt. He stood and pulled his keys out of his pocket, heading for the door without saying good-bye to anyone.

Yeah, he needed to move on, and he would. Just not yet.

CHAPTER NINE

In fall of his senior year Michelle Vasquez asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance.

Ryan hadn’t gone to any dances his junior year. He wasn’t into that stuff. But something about the way Michelle bit her lip, looking so nervous as they stood there in the hall . . . he knew that feeling.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go,” he told her.

She rocked back from her heels to her toes. “Really? Awesome!”

Her smile was pretty.

Her best friend, Sarah, asked Ryan’s friend, Jake, so the four of them went together. After the dance they’d had a joint make-out session in the toy box with Ryan and Michelle in the front and Jake and Sarah in the back. That night sealed the deal, and the two couples became nearly inseparable.

Life went on.

There were things about Michelle that drove him crazy in a bad way—especially her negative body image. She was gorgeous with all that dark, curly hair, which she’d grown longer; and in his opinion she was too skinny. Apparently his opinion didn’t matter, because she rarely ate more than a bite or two in front of him, and she always insisted on having the lights off when they made out. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she was too self-conscious to even enjoy the things they did together. It was times like those when he thought of Brooke, and how different it would be with her, which made him feel guilty.

But the worst thing about Michelle was her jealousy. Ryan was a loyal guy. He didn’t check out girls the way his friends did, but she still needled him about it. Do you think she’s cute? Do you wish my boobs were as big as those? Were you really in love with Brooke Bennett? When’s the last time you talked to her? What do you guys talk about, anyway? The questions about Brooke forced a brick wall up inside him. He didn’t want to talk about Brooke to anyone, especially not Michelle. It wasn’t her business. And he didn’t like the way Michelle said Brooke’s name like it was something vile.

That thought made Ryan realize maybe he wasn’t so faithful to Michelle after all, and she had every right to be paranoid. Because he looked forward to the summer and holidays for different reasons than his friends. Although, admittedly, Ryan did not hope for a visit from Brooke like he used to. Now and then he let himself fantasize, but reality was too solid and too constant to let him be a fool anymore. Brooke was done with him. And besides, it would be too weird to have her see him with Michelle.

The only thing Ryan truly looked forward to was baseball. Sometimes he enjoyed being with Michelle, but mostly it felt like work, like he was walking on eggshells, trying not to accidentally piss her off or hurt her feelings. Ryan didn’t know how to handle her tears and mood swings. He went through the motions and tried to be a good boyfriend. She told him she loved him and he said it back. She said she was ready to have sex and so they did. He pretty much did everything she wanted, and still she never seemed at ease in their relationship.

Ryan’s mom came home from work one day to find him sitting on the front steps of their town house next to the pile of leaves he’d just raked. She pulled off his ball cap and kissed the top of his sweaty head, then motioned him inside the house.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

He sighed and let his hands fall to his thighs with a smack as he sat on the couch. “Michelle’s always on my case, saying she doesn’t think I love her and stuff. I don’t know what else she expects me to do to prove it.”

His mom nodded, gathering her thoughts as she set her purse down and came to sit next to him.

“Do you love her?” she asked.

“I guess, yeah.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You guess?”

He shrugged and looked down, feeling like he was under a microscope.

“Ryan, girls have the intuition to know when they’re loved or not. You should never tell a girl you love her if you don’t.”

Guilt and frustration burned inside him. He didn’t know what to do. Michelle was good to him, and he thought he could probably love her someday. Eventually. He had no reason to break up with her, and, besides, with Michelle’s crazy low self-esteem, that would be the worst kind of drama. He freaking hated drama. It was easier to stay together and hope things would get better.

“She’s a nice girl,” his mother said. “A little . . . controlling from what I’ve seen, but she deserves your honesty. And you need to do what’s right for yourself, too, honey.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

But he didn’t know what was right for himself. All he knew was that he couldn’t change how he felt. He didn’t feel the way he should for Michelle, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to feel that way with anyone, but he knew he’d better start doing a better job of faking it or Michelle would never relax and let them live in peace.

“Don’t settle for something less than love, Ryan,” his mom said, squeezing his hand before she got up to start dinner.

It was good advice ideally, but easier said than done.

CHAPTER TEN

Ryan was shocked to get a text from Brooke on a random Tuesday night in November.

Hey. U up?

He cursed his stupid body for reacting like it always did—banging heart, too hot everywhere.

Yeah, he responded. U ok?

Just saying hi. i heard you have a girlfriend. Sarah, right?

Shit. His heart jackhammered now.

Michelle. But it’s nothing serious.

As he typed the words he felt like the biggest douche bag in history, because isn’t that how he’d been treating their relationship all along? Like it wasn’t serious?

Aw that’s cute. told you those girls liked you. ;) glad u r happy Ry. <3

He couldn’t respond to that. He immediately deleted the conversation since Michelle liked to look through his messages. When had he become such a fraud? He wanted to do right by Michelle, but he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to force his heart into taking her as seriously as he should.

Ryan and Michelle made it through the holidays. He spent Christmas week with his dad and stepmom in Michigan. When he got home, Michelle dragged him to a giant sale at a girly store with a million bottles of smelly stuff. The place made his head swim with flowers and spices. She kept shoving bottles at his nose to see if he liked it and he kept nodding, saying they were fine. Except for some midnight one that smelled like rotten roses which he gave a thumbs-down.

She scuttled around the store, weaving between people, smelling bottles and dropping them in her basket, and he followed with his hands in his jeans pockets. He couldn’t help but notice he was the only dude in the store, and the chicks were snatching stuff from shelves and bins like it was a race.

While Michelle was spritzing something on a piece of paper, he noticed a yellow bottle with a picture of vanilla beans. He picked it up and took a whiff.

Ryan almost fell over. He took a step back and his heart banged against his ribs.

Brooke.

He closed his eyes a second and she was everywhere.

He smelled it again, squeezing the bottle and his heart went crazy. This was her lotion.

The bottle left his hand as Michelle took it from him, his dreamworld falling like shards all around him. She smelled the lotion and made a face.

“Too sweet.”

She set it back down and kept moving, but Ryan stared at the bottle. He ran his thumb over the opening where he’d squeezed a drop out, and rubbed the silky lotion across his fingertips.

All day he smelled Brooke.

Michelle wanted them to attend Virginia Tech together. They were both accepted, but in the spring Ryan chose to go to UVA on a baseball scholarship.

“They’ve got the best team in the state right now,” he explained.

They were standing in the kitchen of his town house leaning against the counter, which held the pile of college letters. Michelle knew schools from all over the country had been scouting him and offering scholarships. Rumor had it a scout from the Washington Nationals had told his coach he’d been keeping an eye on Ryan’s stats.

“All you care about is baseball,” Michelle mumbled at him. “We’re going to be rivals.”

“Ah, come on. You don’t really care about that crap, do you?”

She huffed a little, because she knew he had her. She wasn’t the school spirit type, but that could change in college, since Hokie fans were notoriously crazy about their school, in a good way.

Ryan took her in his arms and kissed her temple. She put her arms around his waist and relaxed into him. During sweet moments like this Ryan felt happy, like maybe they could make it work. He let his fingers slip under her shirt and press against her cool, smooth skin. When his hand rounded her waist, she pulled away.

“Stop, Ryan. You know I hate that.”

Crap. Her “sensitive area.” It was ridiculous.

“What? You hate when I touch you?”

“I don’t like when you touch my stomach and . . . love handles.”

Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it.

“It’s not funny!” she yelled.

So much for their sweet moment.

“Babe.” He reached for her, but she pushed his hand away. “You do not have love handles. How many times do I have to tell you that your body is perfect? Do you think I’d try to touch your stomach if it was so repulsive?”

She looked as if she might cry. “You don’t understand.”

No, he didn’t. He sighed and looked down at his letter from the University of Virginia.

“This isn’t gonna last, is it?” Michelle asked. She’d wrapped her hands around her belly and stared at the letters, too.

Ryan didn’t answer, because he didn’t know. And in his silence, she picked up her purse and left.

Ryan and Michelle didn’t break up, but their relationship was teetering at the edge of a cliff. Tension from the anticipated drop surrounded them constantly. After baseball games, Michelle got mad when Ryan was reluctant to kiss her or hold her hand in front of the guys. He eventually gave in to her glares and watery eyes, and dealt with the jibes from his teammates. At moments like that his mind wandered to Brooke; she’d always understood how it was between the guys.

Their season was as great as everyone expected. They took the state title in one of the best moments of Ryan’s life. He and Jake were saying bye to the girls and just about to board the bus for the two-hour trip home when Ryan’s phone dinged. He’d expected to see a message from his mom, who’d just left, but when he saw Brooke’s name his hand shook.

Congrats, Ry!!! Wish I could’ve been there!

“Brooke?” Michelle was leaning over, reading it, and he closed the message box. “Why’s she writing you?”

“’Cause she’s his friend, duh,” Jake answered. He kissed Sarah good-bye and punched Ryan in the arm before climbing on the bus.

Michelle’s face had gone stony. “How often do you talk to her?”

“Never,” Ryan said. “Not since last year. I swear.”

He could feel the eyes of everyone on the bus watching them, and then Coach leaned over and honked the horn.

“Gotta go,” Ryan said. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before jumping on the bus with relief. He dropped into the seat next to Jake.

“Dude,” Jake said with a sigh. “Michelle can be a bitch when she wants to, huh?”

Ryan tensed. “Don’t call her that, man. It’s my fault anyway.”

Jake shrugged and didn’t ask what Ryan meant. The whole bus celebrated their win, getting loud and rowdy. For the first time ever their coach didn’t bellow at them to sit down and shut the hell up.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After graduation, Ryan and Michelle went to a party together at Brian’s house, J.J.’s brother, who thankfully was nothing like his older sibling. Ryan was actually happy to see J.J. and Steve again, along with some of the older guys he used to play ball with.

“Get the hell outta here!” J.J. shouted when Ryan walked in. “The Kid’s all grown up and shit!”

Ryan almost laughed when he saw J.J.’s tight T-shirt that said I LOVE BOOBIES, and the gut he’d grown, but he thought better of it. They all drank beer and talked about their stats for the season while a Nats game played on TV. Michelle went outside to smoke cigarettes with her friends, a new habit she’d picked up, which he hated.

Ryan’s neck tightened when J.J. mentioned Jackie might come to the party. Ryan chugged his whole beer and felt a little calmer. He really didn’t want to talk about Brooke to Jackie this time. His head was screwed up enough as it was. Michelle came back into the room and squeezed onto the couch next to him. She leaned forward and tried to kiss him, but he got a big whiff of pungent nastiness and pulled away.

“What’s your problem?” she asked.

“You smell like smoke.”

“I’m chewing gum. God, what do you want me to do? I’m bored to death in here.” She sat back heavily on the couch. Ryan got up to get another beer.

He stood in the kitchen and watched Brian and J.J. having a chugging contest. J.J. won, slamming down his can on the table and squeezing out a loud burp.

“I’ll be damned!” J.J. said, looking past Ryan. “Look who’s here!”

Ryan heard the front door squeak open. He didn’t have to turn around to feel her presence. The whole room lit up at the sound of Brooke’s and Jackie’s laughter as they entered. Everyone in the kitchen stood and moved toward the entrance to greet them, but Ryan had gone to stone with shock. His hands and feet tingled. He stared down into the kitchen sink for a moment, then tilted back the rest of his beer.

The kitchen was loud and crowded now. But he could hear her voice. “Steve, oh my God! How are you?” He imagined her passing around those big hugs where she rocked you back and forth before releasing you. Ryan took a deep breath before turning around. Ryan was inches taller than most of the crowd, and eye level with the tallest of the guys there. He could see her across the room. When her eyes met his and widened, he felt split open, exposed to his core. They stared at each other through all the commotion. Her hair was shorter and blonder, lying on her shoulders. She wore makeup on her eyes and dark lipstick. He stood there, dumb, as she pushed through the kitchen, ran up, and threw her arms around his neck, laughing.

“Ry! Oh, my gosh! I’ve missed you! Look at you!” She pulled back and grabbed his biceps. “You’ve gotten some big ole muscles.” Her eyes were shining.

“You look . . . great,” he managed to say. “How long you home for?”

“Just the weekend. My summer class starts on Monday.”

She grinned and hugged him again. Ryan felt a hard tap on his shoulder. He pulled away from Brooke to find Michelle glaring at him. Having both girls this close was like some intergalactic crash of worlds or something. He’d never felt so awkward and uncomfortable in his life.

“Hey, Sarah!” Brooke said.

“I’m Michelle.”

“Oh.” Brooke blanched, stepping farther away from Ryan. “Sorry.”

“Are you ready to go?” Michelle asked Ryan. He wanted to believe he was a good guy. An honorable guy, but at that moment, when it came to Michelle, he knew he’d never done right by her, and this would be yet another of those failures.

“It’s only eleven,” he said, scratching his neck. Michelle turned to Brooke.

“Do you mind if I talk to my boyfriend alone?”

Brooke raised her eyebrows at Ryan and said, “Sure,” before turning away from the couple. She stepped over to the table where shots of cheap liquor were being lined up.

“Ryan!” Michelle’s stern voice made him tear his eyes away from Brooke. “Are you leaving with me or not?”

“Michelle, please . . . I haven’t seen these people in a really long time.”

“In two months you won’t be seeing a lot of me either,” she said.

“I know, but . . .” He wondered why Brooke was wearing so much makeup. Michelle began to rub her knee up his leg and then press herself against him. Whoa. She never got feisty in public.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.

The awkwardness and bad timing of everything made him grind out the words, “Not right now.”

Michelle pouted. “Sometimes I really don’t know why we’re together, Ry.”

“Don’t call me Ry.” His tone made her pull away and his mouth popped open to say something apologetic. He’d never spoken so harshly to her before.

“Forget it. I’m leaving.” She stomped away. From the doorway, Michelle jangled her keys and shouted. “Bye, Ryan!”

She slammed the door behind her. He felt everyone’s eyes. His pulse pounded and he shifted his feet.

Shit.

He went after her.

She must have known he would, because she was standing on the porch with her arms crossed when he ran out. He stopped in front of her.

Michelle’s bottom lip quivered. “What’s happening to us, Ryan?”

Ryan knew he needed to finally grow some balls and man up. He couldn’t keep doing this to her. Or himself.

“It’s not working,” he said. The words sounded foreign and lame.

“You’re breaking up with me?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Michelle. But I’m not the right guy for you. I don’t think I can change. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love you the way you deserve and make you happy.”

“What did I do wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Ryan held his breath as he held her eyes and waited. One tear fell. Then a second. She swiped them away and choked out, “I need Sarah.”

He nodded and went back in the house, pushing his way through until he found Sarah out back with a cigarette. She stomped it out when she saw his face.

“She needs you,” Ryan says.

“You finally broke up?” Sarah asked.

The words jolted him like a punch. Ryan nodded. He followed her back through the house, but when they got to the front door Sarah turned and stopped him with her palm to his sternum.

“You’re done. I got this.” The stern look she gave him showed that she understood, even if she wasn’t happy.

“Are you taking her home?” he asked.

She gave a terse nod and reached for the doorknob.

He stepped back to let the door close. A sour sense of loss and finality settled in his belly, mixing with the guilt and wonder of a sweet presence in the room behind him. Looks of pity flickered over him as he turned, but none more sympathetic than Brooke’s. He swallowed and pulled off his baseball cap, running his hand through his flattened hair before sliding the hat back down on his head and low over his eyes.

“You okay, man?” Steve asked.

Ryan could only shrug and try not to stare at Brooke, who hadn’t looked away from him. He was more aware of her than he’d ever been of anything in his life. He hated himself, because with each second that passed, his sadness over ending his first relationship became less and less of what took up his heart.

J.J. wrapped a long arm around Ryan’s neck and handed him another beer, which he really didn’t need. “It’s all good, Kid. Welcome back to singlehood.” J.J. clinked their bottles together, and people in the room finally began to return to their previous conversations.

Ryan put the bottle to his lips, but didn’t drink. His body felt strange—numb and heavy inside but buzzing on the surface. He sensed Brooke walking around the table and coming to him as J.J. let him go and went to hassle one of the high school girls.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“She’s not mad at you for talking to me, is she?”

“Nah. We’ve been having problems. The whole college thing, y’know? It’s not your fault.”

Brooke studied him, taking him in with her eyes.

“Man . . .” She stared up at him. “Even your voice has changed. I have to look up at you now.”

Her attention gave him a rush.

“I was always a little taller than you,” he said.

“Yeah, but now you’re like . . . I don’t know.”

For a second she seemed almost shy, and it filled Ryan with masculine pride.

“Wanna take a shot with me?” she asked.

“Just one. I haven’t decided if I’m staying the night or driving later.”

“You should stay,” she said, pouring the clear liquid into a Dixie cup and handing it to him. “It’s been too long.”

It had been too long, Ryan thought, but with the comfortable ease between them, it was as if no time had passed. Their eyes met and locked as they threw back their shots. It burned like liquid fire and Ryan coughed, which made Brooke laugh. He hadn’t had hard liquor since the night of his birthday when he’d gotten drunk and called her. The memory brought heat to his cheeks.

Jackie came over and grabbed Brooke by the arm. “We’re playing cards. I need a partner.”

Brooke looked at Ryan as if asking permission, filling him once again with that masculine pride of ownership, which he had no right to feel.

“Go on,” he told her, nodding toward the table.

“Come with,” she said. Her smile was sweet, and Ryan sensed she didn’t want to be any farther from him than he wanted to be from her. So he was content to sit back and watch.

The party grew as the night went on, and Brooke continued to drink. Ryan had counted eight, which he thought was a lot for a girl, but Brooke stayed upright. She’d gotten louder and was laughing a lot more. Still, she seemed the most sober in the group. Jackie had already slid out of her chair during one laugh attack, and J.J. was a slobbering mess.

At two in the morning people started clearing out.

J.J.’s little brother, Brian, pulled out the couch bed and people piled on. Jackie curled up in a recliner and passed out.

Brooke’s eyes drooped slightly, but were otherwise clear as she smiled up at Ryan.

“I’m not ready to sleep yet,” she told him.

His heart beat a little faster.

Brian must have heard because as he passed them he said, “Y’all can hang in the basement.”

Ryan peered around the room. The last thing he wanted was some rumor to get back to Michelle that he’d gone off with another girl the same night they broke up, but nobody was paying attention.

Brooke followed Ryan down the wooden steps to the unfinished basement. It was mostly used for storage, but one corner had an area rug on the concrete with an old couch and a television for playing video games.

Ryan flopped onto the squeaky couch and was surprised when Brooke leaned heavily against him with her head on his shoulder. The slump of her body showed him she was drunker than she’d let on upstairs.

Ryan pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them.

“You’re not gonna get sick, are you?” he asked.

“I never get sick from drinking. Got a gut like my dad.”

Ryan tensed. He didn’t like that comparison. Brooke lifted her head and looked at him.

“I was on academic probation my first semester,” she said. “I never told anyone. I partied too hard when I was pledging my sorority. I got my grades back up, but my mom and Ron were pissed. They said I was heading down the same path as my dad.”

Anger surged through Ryan. He knew Brooke had the capability to be like her father, but he also knew she was stronger than that. He believed in her. Why couldn’t they? They should have been encouraging her, instead of saying shitty things to provoke her deepest fears.

“You’re not your dad,” Ryan said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes watered. “But I’m like him.”

He ran his hand down her soft, straight hair and she closed her eyes.

“You’re not him. And you won’t end up like him. You’re just having fun like everyone else.” He didn’t know if he believed that, but he wanted it to be true. Ryan’s stomach clenched with nerves as he prepared to say the next thing. “And if you’re really worried, Brooke . . . you could maybe stop drinking.”

Her head dropped to her chest. She looked so tired. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?” he whispered.

She thought about it. “People like me better when I drink.”

“Who?” Guys? “Sorry, but fuck them.”

Ryan wondered if it wasn’t her who liked herself better when she drank—when she became numb and let go of everything.

Brooke slid herself down across the couch, laying her head in his lap. He moved the hair back from her face, then took his thumb and wiped a smudge of eyeliner from the corner of her eye.

“I’ve missed you, Ry.”

He couldn’t say anything. In the next second he felt her hand pressing on his pants. At first he thought it was an accident, but as he sat very still she flicked the button of his jeans open and unzipped them. Oh, God . . . holy . . .

“Brooke—”

“It’s okay.”

She started to slip her hand in, and with a thud of his heart he grasped her wrist. He was so shocked, and suddenly so turned on he could barely find his voice.

He stuttered, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re the only one who doesn’t expect something from me.”

With a deep breath, Ryan gently pulled her hand away and tried to hold it, but she sat up, wrapping her hands around her knees.

“Brooke?”

She wouldn’t look at him. He quickly zipped his jeans back up and tried to adjust himself.

“Hey . . .” He pulled her to him, tugging her closer when she tried to pull away, until she finally relaxed against his side, shaking. Questions and emotions warred inside Ryan. He had no clue what to say or do to make this right. He wanted to lighten the mood and lessen the pain of rejection he knew she felt.

“Listen,” Ryan said into her hair. “You’re killin’ me right now. If you show up sober at my house tomorrow and try to put your hands down my pants, I swear I won’t stop you. But the last time I kissed you, you were drunk, and I think you regretted it. I want you, but not like this.”

His breathing went shallow as he waited for her response. She kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his biceps.

Her answer was quiet. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had, you know.”

Joy, pure and sweet, exploded inside him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down so they were both lying, her back spooning against his chest. He fixed the blanket and tried to rein himself in when he felt her nestle her body against his. She used the crook of his elbow as a pillow.

“I’m coming to your house tomorrow,” she promised.

He squirmed back farther as her words made their way through his system, then shivered when she kissed the sensitive skin in the middle of his arm.

He tried to think of something cool to say, but the only thing he could bear to tell her was the truth.

“I’ll be waiting.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was four o’clock in the afternoon before Ryan knew Brooke wasn’t coming.

He thought back to that morning. All the signs had been there. Brooke had slipped out of his arms, trying to sneak away, but he’d called out to her and asked where she was going.

“I need to find Jackie,” she’d whispered. “I’ll call you later, ’kay, Ry?”

He’d said nothing. As per their usual MO, neither of them brought up what had happened between them or the things they’d said. And then Brooke had rushed away, leaving him with the seeds of doubt that would bloom into hurt and frustration as the day went on.

His heart jumped, then sank, when his cell rang with Michelle’s number. Guilt made him answer, though he prayed she wouldn’t make this harder on them.

“Hey,” he said.

“We’re broken up, like, five minutes and you’re already hooking up with Brooke Bennett? Who, by the way, is fat and has been dragging you around like a dog for years!”

He forced himself to stay calm, because Michelle’s frantic voice was anything but.

“We didn’t hook up,” he said evenly.

“I know you slept in the basement together!”

“But nothing happened.”

“Do you love her?” Michelle’s voice cracked with anger and tears, making Ryan cringe.

He opened his mouth, but fear and confusion gripped his throat. All this time he’d buried his love for Brooke, continually kicking sand over it as he’d tried to live his life, but one night of seeing her had raised it up, as shining and strong as ever.

Michelle made a choking sound on the other end of the phone.

“Oh my God. You are such an asshole, Ryan.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She hung up on him. He yanked his hat off his head and threw it across the room before collapsing on the couch with his head in his hands. He felt sick. He never meant to hurt Michelle, but he’d selfishly stayed with her. And she’d been right about Brooke. Over and over she’d proven she didn’t want him unless she was drunk and trying to “reward” him for being nice to her.

Ryan’s mom came in with her keys in her mouth and shopping bags in her arms. She shut the door behind her with her hip.

“Need help?” he asked from his sitting position.

She chuckled, dropping the bags and taking the keys out of her mouth. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic when you offer.”

He started to stand, but she waved him back down.

“I can handle it. You look like you had a rough night.”

Ryan stood when he saw her struggling on her tiptoes to slide a can on the third shelf. He took it from her and pushed it in.

“Thanks,” she said, rubbing his back in a way that made him feel like a little boy again. It was a nostalgic feeling, making him open up to her.

“We broke up.”

He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, and she stopped what she was doing.

“Oh, Ryan. I’m sorry.” She came over and put her hands on his crossed forearms. “I know you’re hurting, sweetie, but I think it’s really for the better.”

He gave her a nod, but felt bad accepting her affection. He didn’t deserve it.

“I was going to go out to dinner with the girls, but I think I’ll stay home tonight.”

“No,” he told her. “You should go. I’m not in the best mood, so I’m just gonna hang out in my room.”

He ignored her sad expression.

“Well . . . if you’re sure. I’ll bring you something, ’kay?”

He gave her another nod and she lifted onto her toes to kiss his cheek before he went to his room.

Half an hour later he heard his mom leave. Ryan wanted to sleep but he couldn’t relax. He lay facedown on his mattress, digging his fingers in his hair against his scalp and squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could. The longer he lay there thinking, the angrier he became. At himself. At Brooke. At life.

And then his phone binged with a text message.

Ryan’s heart went straight to his throat and began thumping a heavy rhythm. It was from Brooke. He fumbled to open it.

Ry?

He now fumbled to reply.

I’m here.

Thump, thump, thump.

I’m here too.

He jumped from his bed and ran to the front door, yanking it open. Brooke stood there looking more like herself, casual, less makeup. Jackie sat in her car, watching them. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to smile or be cheerful. When he spoke, the anger he’d been seething in all day came through.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

She blinked and looked down. “Yeah. I would have come sooner but . . .”

“But what?” He waited for her excuse—her reason for ditching him one last time before she returned to school and never saw him again.

“I was scared,” she whispered.

Her genuine reply stole some of the bitter wind from his sails, but not all of it.

“Why’s Jackie waiting?” he asked. “You planning to say your good-byes and run?”

She bit her lip, eyes darting as if she was embarrassed. “I didn’t know how serious you were, and I didn’t want to be stuck. . . .”

Now he completely deflated. And he wondered why she was really there. Out of obligation for some promise she’d made last night?

He lifted his chin at Jackie and said, “I got her. I’ll take her home.”

Brooke gave him a grateful smile, seeming relieved.

“You kids be good,” Jackie called before driving off.

Before they moved from the foyer he asked, “Why are you really here?”

She didn’t seem surprised or offended by the question, only scared. He’d never been like this toward her before, but he’d also never been so close to what he wanted, and he had to make sure they were on the same page. He wanted everything, so if this was just a hookup for her, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it, no matter how much his body would disagree.

“I wanted to see you,” she said, fiddling with her fingers. “I feel stupid about last night.”

“I’m not holding you to anything you said last night, Brooke. And you don’t need to feel stupid. It was just me.”

“I know, but I felt something different with you last night, and then I took it too far. Oh, my gosh, I’m babbling.”

She swallowed. Her hands trembled. The sight of her nervousness made Ryan experience a surge of confidence like he’d never felt before. All traces of the Kid disappeared. Good riddance, Ryan thought.

He took her fingers and led her to his room, closing the door behind them. She’d been in his room lots of times back in the day, but this felt different. It was different. Back then, he used to leave the door open.

They faced each other, a few feet apart, making no move. He didn’t smile, and neither did she. When she lifted a hand to push hair behind her ear he noticed her trembling.

Was she scared? Nervous? Wishing she could change her mind?

“We don’t have to do anything,” he told her.

She peered down at their feet before meeting his eyes again. He couldn’t believe how unsettled she looked.

“You don’t want to?” she asked.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying you don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you a lot.” She took a tentative step forward. “Listen . . . I know you used to have a crush on me. And I know I wasn’t exactly careful about your feelings. I’m sorry I never took you more seriously.” Her dark chocolate eyes stayed on his, watering slightly, but steady. “I just . . . this feels bigger . . . more real than anything. I don’t want to mess it up. If we do this, it’ll change everything. And I’m worried that if we hook up, it’ll break the spell, and you’ll be over it.”

Ryan couldn’t help but be hurt that she thought she was only a conquest for him. He rumpled his flat hair and wished he had his hat on.

“This isn’t just some crush, Brooke. It’s not going to disappear.”

“How do you know?” Her eyes were really watering now. “I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t want anything to do with me afterward. I know I have no right to expect anything. I haven’t exactly been a great friend, but now that I have you again, I don’t want to lose you.”

He couldn’t believe she thought she’d be the one who would end up hurt. “That’s not going to happen, because I love you. If anyone’s getting their heart broken here, it’s me. Not you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” she whispered.

“Then don’t. Don’t run from me. Let me in.”

The tension, distinct and electric, built between them until he stepped forward, slipped his hand under her hair, and pulled her face to his. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back without hesitation, pressing her body against his and pulling him tighter. Vanilla swarmed his system. They kissed until her back bumped against the wall and they broke away. Both were breathing hard.

“Ry . . .” Brooke let out a nervous giggle. “This is so . . . you’re so—”

“Shh.”

He kissed her again, and when she moaned he felt it all the way to his bare toes.

She’d come to him, fearful and sober, wanting him. It was all he could think about.

With both palms on her neck, and his thumbs rubbing her jawline, he felt her pulse race beneath his hands as she reached for the button on his jeans.

“Uh-uh,” he said against her lips, dropping his hands to take her wrists and pull them around his waist.

Ryan kissed her harder, and seconds later he tasted salt. He pulled back enough to see tears streaming down her cheeks. But she wasn’t sad. He worried if he’d been too rough with her, only to feel her nails dig into his lower back as her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled him closer.

She lifted his shirt, and he let her pull it over his head. The little, feminine sound of approval she made at the sight of him nearly caused him to lose all sense of right and wrong. Then she shocked him by pulling her own shirt over her head. Ryan knew he must look like a virginal preteen because he couldn’t stop staring at her soft, creamy skin and beautiful curves. Brooke just stroked his face and ran her fingers down his arms, letting him look.

He held his breath as he reached for her waist. When he touched her, she didn’t pull away. She arched her back toward him, and his mouth came down on hers again. He pulled her toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and brought her down so they were both lying on their sides. She reached for his jeans again, and this time he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, gently biting her fingertip.

A confused, anxious look crossed her face. “Why?”

“Because I have other things in mind. Things that require your clothes coming off, not mine.”

He could tell he’d shocked her because she couldn’t even answer. Her eyes got big, and he watched her chest rise and fall a little faster. He couldn’t get over how her body reacted to his every word and touch.

He watched her swallow hard before her eyebrows came together in worry and she glanced away.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” she said. “My life’s been a mess. If you knew everything . . .”

“I’d still love you.”

Her chin shook, but she nodded as if she believed him, and his acceptance of her only seemed to make her more emotional. Ryan wiped away the lines of tears from her cheeks. She ran her hand over the curve of his shoulder, just as filled with wonder as he was.

“When did you get so hot, Ry? I mean, you were always cute, but damn—”

He kissed her again and laid her back, letting himself feel more than he’d ever felt in his life. He knew she’d only thought of him as a friend before. He knew she hadn’t been ready for what he wanted. But now . . . now . . . finally.

An hour later they lay there together, Ryan still wearing his jeans, with the blanket pulled up over them.

“This is so weird,” Brooke whispered. She ran her fingers over the planes of his chest. “I’ve dated a lot, Ry. I’m sure you know that. But I swear I’ve never felt like this.” She searched his eyes. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever trusted. I feel safe with you.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her lips.

“And spoiled,” she added.

“I’ve waited a long time for this.” His stark honesty surprised him.

“I want you to feel safe, too, though.” When he didn’t say anything she asked, “Do you?”

Ryan thought about the last two years since she’d been away. Not once had she invited him to visit or tried to make him a part of her new life. He wanted to believe a miracle had taken place between them now, but he was too realistic for that.

“I’m still not sure you won’t walk out that door and forget about me,” he said.

Pain settled on her face. “I’ll just have to prove myself, then.”

He paused. Since they were being honest, Ryan reached out to stroke her cheek, and said quietly, “You can start by not drinking anymore.”

He waited for an indignant response. The drinking thing was for her, not him, but he knew it was a hurdle in her life that she’d have to get over. She had to believe in herself.

A tear trickled down her cheek, making a wet path across her wrist where she leaned her head.

“I want to stop,” she said. She stared with open sincerity in her eyes. “I don’t feel like I need it when I’m with you.”

“You don’t.” Ryan wasn’t a fool. He knew changing this would not be easy, and he couldn’t always be with her. But the fact that she was willing to try made him grateful.

Ryan heard a car pulling up outside and his eyes widened.

“Shit, my mom!”

They both jumped from the bed, laughing as they tugged their clothes on and Ryan flung the door open. They were sitting innocently on his bed when his mom came up the stairs and stopped in his doorway.

“Oh, my goodness, Brooke!” she said. “It’s great to see you!”

“You, too, Mrs. McPhearson. How are you?”

“Wonderful. Even better after some time with my friends.”

His mom looked back and forth between Ryan and Brooke, a knowing look in her eye, and she smiled.

“Well, I’ll let you guys hang out.” With a wink, she turned and headed for her room.

“Your mom’s so cool,” Brooke said. Ryan had to agree.

Brooke took his hand and he rubbed his thumb over hers.

“How are you getting back to school tomorrow?” he asked.

“My mom.” She sounded less than thrilled.

An idea emerged, filling him with ideas. “Can I take you?”

Brooke beamed. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want.”

“I want.” She scooted closer, biting her lip. “Can you stay until Tuesday?”

His blood heated, and he nodded.

“But, Ryan . . . I don’t want this to end on Tuesday.” She curled her fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt and tugged him closer, her face earnest.

“Neither do I,” he said. “And if you try to run after a couple months I’ll stalk you.”

Brooke laughed. He was joking, but his fear of being one of her fling-and-toss guys was real. They would both have to prove themselves.

“Is it bad that the thought of you stalking me makes me kinda hot?” she asked.

Now it was his turn to laugh. He reached down and they twined their fingers together. They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, soaking in the newness of their circumstances.

“We can make this work, right?” Brooke whispered.

If he had anything to do with it, yes.

He leaned forward and kissed her. The intentions of his heart were clear. He’d long ago stopped believing their someday would come. Now it was here, against all odds, and whether or not Brooke knew it, he intended to turn someday into forever.

Excerpt from Wendy Higgins’s Sweet Peril

Read an excerpt from Wendy Higgins’s Sweet Peril, the second book in the Sweet Evil series.

PROLOGUE

EMERGENCY SUMMIT, 1748, ROME, ITALY

Unbeknownst to the Roman community, 666 earthbound demons were making use of the infamous Colosseum. Twelve of the fallen ones, the Dukes, were present in human form, while the others hovered as spirits, blotting celestial lights from the night sky.

Rahab, the Duke of Pride, took his place in the center, exhilarated by the attention his presence commanded. He looked out with vehemence on thousands of Duke descendants, the Nephilim race, who had been summoned to the meeting from all corners of the earth.

“Let us officially open this summit,” Rahab ordered.

A reverent combination of hissing and chanting filled the Colosseum—the ghoulish melody issued from the Dukes and spirits overhead as they flapped their massive wings in unison. A chill spread across the expectant audience as Rahab poised himself to reveal the purpose of their gathering.

“It has come to our attention that two of you Nephilim no longer find it necessary to focus on the work for which you were bred.”

Nobody moved.

Rahab turned his stare to a teenage girl in the crowd, who flinched as if stung by his cruel gaze. She averted her almond eyes, a dark lock falling from her upswept hair as she shrank back.

“Come forward, daughter of Alocer.” At these words from Rahab, the girl gave a violent shudder.

“Femi?” Duke Alocer made his way to the front, forehead creased with displeasure as he sought his daughter.

“Father . . .” Femi whispered so low that normal human ears would never have caught it, but every being in the Colosseum that night could.

“Come here,” her father said. “What have you done?”

Femi made her way to him, in layers of Egyptian silk.

“Father, have mercy on me, I beg you. I carry your grandchild.”

Alocer paused, and his forehead smoothed over.

“Is that all?” he asked. “You know you will not survive the birth.”

She lowered her eyes again and nodded. Alocer turned to Rahab.

“This is commonplace, Rahab.” He did not bother disguising his irritation. “Pregnancy is hardly a worthy reason to call forth an emergency summit. The girl is a hard worker.”

“Ah, yes.” Rahab turned his sneer to Alocer’s daughter. “I’m sure this pregnancy is a result of all your hard work. No doubt you conceived while in the act of leading a human to sin. . . . Isn’t that right, girl?”

A look of horrified realization crossed Femi’s face as she searched the crowd, meeting only blank and hostile stares. She collapsed to the ground at her father’s feet and sobbed, kissing his toes and ankles. Alocer stared down, bewildered.

“Who have you been with?” he asked her. She shook her head, hair dragging on the ground around his feet.

Rahab bent down and yanked Femi by the hair, forcing her to look up. “Answer your father. Tell him!” Femi only cried harder and screamed as Rahab’s fingers pulled tighter. “Fear keeps her silent, and so it should, because the father is not human. He is one of them—one of her own kind.”

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by quick whispers and a hush. Duke Alocer’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as he searched between Femi and Rahab.

“That’s right.” Tiny specs of foam formed at the creases of Rahab’s smile. “Suspicions were raised by one of my very own Legionnaires, and confirmation was made by a fellow Neph.”

“Who was it?” Duke Sonellion asked, icy hatred in his crystalline eyes. “Who do we get to punish?”

Rahab raised an eyebrow, anticipation drawing out. “Yoshiro, son of Jezebet.”

“This cannot be!” The eyes of Duke Jezebet shone deep red as he stepped forward to face Rahab. He was the smallest of the Dukes, but his quickness and sharp eyes lent him a powerful presence. “Where is the Neph who has made this claim?”

“I regret to say she took her own life after revealing this hideous truth to us.” Rahab settled a hand over his heart.

“Yoshiro has faithfully served our cause!” Jezebet shouted, ignoring his antics.

“We shall see about that,” said Rahab. “Come forward, Yoshiro.”

The crowd began to part. All turned toward Yoshiro as he came through, taller than his father, carrying a thin sword.

“Stop right there,” Rahab said. “Lay down your weapon or it will be taken from you.”

“Stupid boy!” Jezebet chided him. “Have you no sense? You are to work against humanity, not waste away your days with a sister Nephilim!”

Yoshiro looked at Femi, who still lay in a pile of grief at her father’s feet. He set down his sword.

“This is my doing,” Yoshiro said to the Dukes. “Do not bother with Femi.”

“How very romantic.” Rahab’s voice was softly mocking. “But must I point out the obvious? You both forfeited her life the moment she conceived. Pity.”

Rahab paced for a moment, eyeing the distance with a dark smile. “Did you know some half-million humans perished in these very walls?” he asked. “These grounds are thirsty for the blood of its youth. It is the perfect venue for our own games, wouldn’t you say? I do so hope that our two little gladiators will attempt to escape. . . .” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Yoshiro and Femi, who were stunned into stillness, as if disbelieving that their secret had been made known and their lives had come to this. Several Dukes laughed without true humor, while the remaining Nephilim moved farther away, placing as much distance as possible between themselves and the unfolding events.

“Well?” Rahab threw out his arms. “Now’s your chance. Run!”

Femi rose to her feet with a sob and pushed her way through the Dukes to Yoshiro. They grabbed hands, and together they ran down the length of the broken Colosseum, flanked by pestering spirits who gave chase above them. Several Dukes cheered with malicious glee at the sight.

“You.” Rahab scanned the crowd and pointed to a male among the outskirts. The straight-faced young man stepped out with a bow slung across his shoulder.

“Kill them both,” Rahab commanded.

The Neph set his jaw and hesitated only a moment before nodding. He took an arrow from the quiver on his back and stretched the bow taut. Despite the cool night, a bead of sweat rolled into his eye and he bent his head to his sleeve, wiping.

“They’re getting away, fool!” shouted the Duke of Hate.

The boy honed in on the running couple using his extended sight and auditory senses, then with a rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, he let the first arrow fly, followed immediately by the second.

His aim was perfect. For two heartbeats, the Colosseum was ghostly quiet as Femi and Yoshiro fell, limbs draped across each other in a macabre heap. The young man’s bow arm went limp at his side and he moved back into the crowd, head lowered.

“That’s it, then?” hollered Thamuz, Duke of Murder. “Where’s the sport in a quick kill, I ask you?”

Rahab chuckled. “Be still, Thamuz. I suppose we shouldn’t expect much more when we have a Neph boy doing a dirty job for us. Consider this a reminder to you all!” Rahab’s voice rang out to the fringes of the Nephilim. “Your single purpose is to carry forth sin to humanity. If you choose to do otherwise, you forfeit your time on earth. And if you choose to forget your fates, rest assured that I will not. Now go! Leave us to our summit.”

The horde crammed together, shuffling and shoving to exit the presence of the Dukes.

Jezebet and Alocer stood with stony expressions as the Nephilim filed past.

Rahab cracked his knuckles and stared at the backs of the last retreating bodies. “For centuries I’ve said those unpredictable half-breeds are more trouble than they’re worth, but you lot insist on having them. They’re an abomination—as stupid as humans but as dangerous as wild animals.”

He smiled to himself before whispering his next thought out loud.

“Even God himself has forsaken and forgotten them.”

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all . . .

—Emily Dickinson

Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed. . . .

—Pearl S. Buck

June

Summer Before Senior Year

CHAPTER ONE

PARTY GIRL

I promised myself I’d never do the work of my demon father—polluting souls—leading humans to abuse their bodies with drugs and alcohol.

I’d been naive to make such a vow. I’d been naive about a lot of things.

Bass boomed through the darkened room where we all danced. I’d climbed onto the coffee table, feigning unawareness of the eyes on me: mostly friendly but some lustful, some judgmental or envious. Tonight, my spot on the table was less about being in the spotlight and more about having the best view. I’d witnessed a demon whisperer prowling and I needed to keep an eye out. It’d been a whole week since I’d seen one—the longest stretch since the New Year’s summit.

Jay and Veronica were around somewhere. My two human best friends had been an official couple for four months, finally having made up after the New Year’s party when he kissed my Neph friend, Marna, a daughter of Astaroth, the Duke of Adultery. Marna had a crush on Jay, but she’d kissed him knowing he and Veronica had strong feelings. Discussing that night had become taboo.

I searched for Jay and Veronica now, but they must’ve been in the basement, playing cards. They would want to go home soon, but I couldn’t be caught leaving a party so early. It wasn’t even midnight.

There it was—the whisperer. My heart caught in my throat, but I kept dancing.

The lively, fun atmosphere thickened into something dark and sinister as the vile presence moved along the ceiling like an oil slick. Needles of dread stabbed at my gut. After all this time they still gave me the creeps. The spirit surveyed the crowd, scowling at the smiling partygoers and lashing out with biting whispers. Dancers became agitated with one another. Drinks spilled, voices rose, and shoving began.

I stepped down from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. The demon changed its direction to follow. I pretended not to notice people trying to stop me and talk to me as I moved through the crowd.

Within seconds the dark whisperer loomed over me and said, “Daughter of Belial, this party is too tame.”

I gritted my teeth and fought back a visible shiver as its voice oozed into my brain like slime. I wanted it out of my head.

“Yeah, I know.” I sent my telepathic response to the spirit. “But that’s about to change.”

I received a warm reception in the kitchen. Raised glasses and shouts of my name.

My peers had forgiven me of past awkward offenses and laid the old me to rest. They’d embraced the party girl when she came to life unnaturally six months ago, like a bloom forced open in winter.

“What’s up, y’all?” I plastered on my most playful smile.

One week after the summit demon whisperers began to stalk me. For six months. Every. Day. Until a week ago. I thought maybe it was over. Maybe I’d proven myself and they’d leave me alone. Wrong.

I’d shocked my own self with my sudden and fierce will to live. My eyes had been opened that night in New York City. I was meant to live and fulfill a purpose. They’d taken so much from me already—my former dreams and aspirations. I refused to hand over my life after all I’d been through, so I came out fighting, despite my sensitive, angelic side.

Ravenous for life, I’d searched for trouble with a sort of desperation. If there was a party, I was there. I drank sometimes—but mostly just pretended—I dressed to the trends, got three piercings in one ear and two in the other, plus a belly ring, and let the übercool stylist do whatever she wanted to my hair as long as it stayed blond. Very blond. Because blondes had more fun, right? I appeared to be having a blast.

Funny thing, appearances.

“Will you make us some dirty kisses?” one girl called out.

I smiled.

I’d made up a shot at a party and named it the dirty kiss. It’d become my signature drink, requiring the drinker to lick chocolate syrup from the bottom of a shot glass.

I gave a disappointed tsk with a smack of my lips. “I don’t have the stuff tonight. But I’ll make you something good, don’t worry.”

They cheered, and I was ashamed by the thrill I got from their attention. I turned toward the fridge, stomach churning. I’d gotten good at putting on a show under the stress of a demon’s eyes. Right now, I knew it was slithering above the people behind me. The sooner I could get rid of it, the better.

And I was in luck. At the bottom of the fridge were two trays of Jell-O shots.

“Well, hello there,” I said, pulling them out. I had no idea where the party host was or if the trays were being saved for something in particular, but none of that mattered. I held up the blue beauties and said, “Jell-O shots, anyone?”

They all hollered with excitement like I was their hero.

Egged on by the demon’s dark whispers, all sense of decision making among the partiers became suddenly muddled. Designated drivers reached for shots. Curfews were forgotten. Hands felt for bodies that weren’t theirs to touch. It hurt to keep a smile on my face as I watched the spirit work.

The demon’s gurgling cackle rang in my ears for only me to hear. The party had begun.

I woke with thumping behind my eyes and a dry mouth. I reached for the half-full water bottle by my bed and was chugging the contents when the events of last night floated to the surface of my sluggish memory.

A beer bong. A drunken kiss in the bathroom between me and some random guy. People getting sick in the bushes outside. Arguments with people who’d been drinking and wanted to drive anyway. A guy from school, Matt, wrestling his keys from me and stumbling to his car with his girlfriend, Ashley.

I bolted upright in bed and clutched my mouth to keep from spewing the water.

Oh, no. Matt drove. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.

With shaking hands I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand. It was only nine in the morning, probably too early, but I didn’t care. I texted Ashley to see if they’d made it home safely, then held my breath until she texted back, saying they were fine.

With a ragged exhale, I slid down from the bed and hit my knees, leaning my forehead in my palms. I hated this—this life of being a Nephilim. What would happen the day someone wasn’t okay? When a night of partying with Anna Whitt resulted in tragedy? It was hard to believe I lived a blessed existence in comparison to other children of demons. My father was a “good guy,” but he sure played the roll of bad demon to perfection.

Feeling steadier, I rose and went to my dresser, taking out a small black-handled dagger. I faced the thick plywood board I’d rigged against the wall with a painted life-size body on it, now covered in punctures. Patti found the thing gruesome. I began a therapeutic round of throws, using memories from the past half year to fuel me.

My father’s ally, the demon Azael, ironically also the messenger of Lucifer himself, came to me that night six months ago when I’d found out Kaidan Rowe moved to L.A. Rahab has issued an order for all Neph to be under watch until further notice. Your father is also under investigation. Good luck to you, daughter of Belial.

I hit the palm of the target’s hand with the dagger. My entire junior year had been sucktastic, especially the second half. I went from being an honor roll student to barely squeaking by. It’s funny how knowing you’d never be able to pursue your dreams could kill your motivation to keep up the GPA. Instead of doing homework, I’d spent my time learning to sling sharp objects. I retrieved the knife and aimed again.

For six months I’d been hounded. I had to constantly remind Patti not to show affection, and it broke my heart. We’d developed a sign for when spirits were around: a scratch to my chin. She’d leave my presence so they couldn’t see her colors. They couldn’t know she cared.

The knife sunk into the target’s elbow with a thud. And so it went around the body.

I hadn’t cried in six months, since that day I stood at Lookout Point. Fear and trauma had taken their toll. I used to hate my tear ducts—thought tears made me weak. I’d taken their cleansing relief for granted, like so many other things.

Thud.

Somewhere in the world my father was busy keeping up his facade as the Duke of Substance Abuse. But he’d still set up lessons for me in self-defense right after the summit. Grueling, hard-core lessons that defied my peaceful instincts.

Thud. In the eye. If only Kaidan could see me now.

I hadn’t spoken with any of the Neph. No word from Kai. In the deep recesses of my soul, worry threatened to reach up and pull me under. He could be dead for all I knew.

Thud.

I had my choice of defense maneuvers I could have studied. My instructors wanted to focus on Judo grappling and hand-to-hand combat since I apparently had the flexibility, strength, and endurance for it. They couldn’t understand my interest in knives, and I wasn’t about to tell them that it made me feel connected to the boy I loved. I wondered what he would think if he saw me aiming for the throat and hitting it dead-on. Would he be proud or appalled? Did he still care? I’d seen through a chink in his emotional armor when he stood at the summit in New York, prepared to fight for my life.

Thud.

Six excruciating months without smelling the sweet, outdoorsy scent that seemed tucked into each memory of him. Six months of living a lie to the outside world.

When the dagger landed in the dummy’s heart, I left it there and sat hard on my bed.

Even in all its terror, the events at the summit had been incredible—heaven sent down angels to spare my life. If they hadn’t shown and intervened when they did, there would have been three additional deaths that night: mine, Kaidan’s, and Kopano’s, who’d also stood to defend me.

I sighed and picked up the phone to call Jay. I owed him an apology for yet another crazy night.

He answered right away. “What’s up, girl?”

“Hey, you,” I said, surprised he didn’t sound upset.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“Um . . . yeah, mostly.”

“Dude, it’s kinda freaky that you’re calling, ’cause I was just about to call you.”

“You were?”

“Yep. Can you come over? I want you to hear something.”

He sounded excited. Maybe he was finally getting used to my changes.

“Sure, I’ll be there in about . . . twenty?”

“See ya then.”

When I hung up, Patti peeked into my room.

“It’s safe,” I told her.

She grimaced at the impaled target. A sheen of blue sadness tinged the aura around her torso, but when she turned her face to me a pretty vapor of pale pink surfaced in its place. She crossed her arms.

Patti’s strawberry curls were held back with a clip, although some had escaped and framed her lightly freckled face. As always, a mist-like guardian angel stood just behind her, watching our interactions with calm assurance. The silent observations of humans’ guardian angels were a reassuring staple in my life.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m going to Jay’s.”

“Oh, good.” I heard a smile in her voice. “I haven’t seen that boy in ages. Tell him I miss him, would you?” She smoothed my hair back into a neat ponytail and kissed my cheek.

I turned and gave her a big squeeze. This was one thing other Neph didn’t have—a loving nurturer to accept them without condition. Patti had picked me up from many parties in the middle of the night over the past few months. I hated that she had to witness all of it.

“I will, Patti. Thanks. Love you.” I grabbed my car keys from my dresser, eager to get some fresh air.

It was weird driving to Jay’s house. I hadn’t been there in a while. Things were different since he’d gotten a job and a girlfriend, and since I’d become party Anna. I guess nothing could stay the same forever. Jay still kept his hair cropped short or else it would turn into a thick, blond sponge. The primary change in his appearance came when Jay grew two inches this spring and his softness disappeared.

He stayed busy as an assistant deejay, and he’d just started an internship with an Atlanta radio station for the summer.

The car crunched over pinecones as I pulled into the driveway of the one-story rambler. A giant weeping willow stood hunched over, its curtain of leaves dragging the sparse grass of Jay’s front yard. I regarded it like an old friend as I walked to his door, breathing in the summer scent of honeysuckle.

Nobody ever knocked at Jay’s house. I let myself in and took the worn-carpeted hall to his room.

“Nice,” he said when I walked in. He was sitting at his computer with his guardian angel standing directly behind him in soft, white light. The angel nodded at me in greeting, but otherwise kept his attention on Jay. I sat down in the empty chair next to him and got a case of the raging tingles at the sight of the word on the screen: Lascivious.

Jay smiled and said, “Their debut single is finally out. The album’s almost done.”

“They really made an album?” Last time I’d stalked them online, there wasn’t much to be found. But this was good. It meant he was losing himself in the music. He was okay.

Jay laughed. “Well, yeah. What’d you think they were doing out there in L.A.? Actually, it’s only being released in California to start, but I got my hands on the censored radio version. Wanna hear it?”

I shrugged as if I didn’t care. “Um, sure.”

I wondered if Jay could hear how loud my heart was thumping. He clicked on a link, and my plan to act uninterested disintegrated at the sound of the first note. I leaned forward, hanging on every beat like it was a lifeline to the person holding the drumsticks.

The sound was more mainstream than their usual stuff, but it still rocked. I held my breath as the lyrics began.

I tried to warn you,

But girls never listen.

Got your innocence insured?

’Cause it’s ’bout to be stolen

Right out from under your nose.

Prepare to curl your toes.

I’ve got a one-track mind.

You’ve got a nice behind.

Chorus:

I had a good thing goin’

All numb in my shell,

Then you took me by surprise

And now I’m scared as hell.

I don’t wanna feel for you,

I don’t wanna feel.

If feeling means hurting,

Then I don’t wanna be real.

You crank up my lust, girl,

You tame down my rage.

You let your inner vixen

Roam out of her cage,

The moment our lips met

I saw it in your eyes,

But you were seeing me, too,

I now realize.

Chorus

What do I want from you?

I want everything.

And I’m not gonna share—

This ain’t a casual fling.

You can be my bad girl,

I’ll even be your good boy.

How’d the tables get turned?

F*** it, I’ll be your love toy.

Chorus

“What do you think? Good, huh?” Jay asked.

I swallowed hard, wishing for a glass of water. “Does it say on there who wrote it?”

He looked at me funny. “Michael’s the only one who writes their songs, except singles they get from other sources. Why?”

“I’m just curious. Some of the lyrics . . .”

A look of pity crossed his face. “Oh, you thought . . .”

“No. Never mind.” I waved a hand like it was silly. How embarrassing.

“Well, let me just check.”

He clicked around until he found the jacket information for the album.

“Yep, says it was written by Michael Vanderson, lead singer.”

“Cool.” My throat itched. “Thanks for letting me hear it. Are there any, um, pictures? I mean, like, an album cover?” I looked at the computer instead of at Jay. I didn’t want to catch him or his guardian angel looking sad for me. Jay did some more clicking around.

There they were. The lead singer, Michael, was in front wearing his signature tight clothes. The rest of the band was staggered behind him. And there was Kaidan—farthest from the camera in the back. He stood with his feet apart, thumbs hooked in his pockets and head tilted downward. His hair, which was buzzed short last time I’d seen him, had grown out enough to hang in his eyes, dark brown and slightly wavy at the tips. He wore all black, but his eyes peeking up through the shadows of his hair were a vivid contrast in striking blue. I grasped my necklace’s dangling turquoise charm and shivered.

He was even more gorgeous than before. This mysterious, dangerous-looking image of him seared itself into my mind.

Jay’s chair squeaked and I pulled myself from the computer, heart pattering. I glanced around his room, making certain no demon had sneaked in and caught me. I never felt completely safe from their cruel eyes.

Jay lounged back in his chair. Judging by the mix of light gray negative feelings in his aura, now was not the best time to ask him to forward me a copy of that cover so I could crop out the other guys and zoom in on the drummer.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” I didn’t like his sudden serious demeanor.

“You know I love ya, right?” I moved my head up and down, preparing myself for another lecture. “I just . . . I feel like ever since you and Kaidan were together, and then he moved away, you’ve been different.”

Yep. My voice came out in a rasp. “I know I’ve changed—”

“’Cause you got the good girl syndrome.”

“Hm?” Oh. When a good girl tries to change a bad boy, but instead the good girl turns bad. “No.”

“Yes, you did. See, me and Roni have talked about it. You thought you could change him, and maybe you even did a little. But in the end he moved and changed his number, and it made you feel like you weren’t good enough. So you changed yourself to try and be the kind of girl he’d like. Right?”

“Uh . . .”

I envisioned Veronica and Jay psychoanalyzing me. A conversation of this nature required careful steps, like treading through a minefield. I chose not to lie in general, so times like this were tricky.

“I did hope he’d change his ways,” I whispered. “And then, yeah, I ended up changing my ways instead.” But not because of him.

Jay nodded, all knowing. “Roni says you need closure.”

“I don’t see how that’s ever going to happen,” I admitted.

“She says the only way you’re gonna get closure is to find another guy. And not just kissing dudes when you get drunk.”

“Not this again,” I groaned.

“What about that Harvard guy?”

“Kope? We’re just friends, and we haven’t talked in forever. I really don’t want a guy right now, Jay.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t know if a new guy is the answer anyway. Personally, I think you need to talk to Kaidan if you want to get over him.”

Jay had no idea how much his words pained me. I wanted nothing more than to talk to Kai. I gritted my teeth and stared down at a stack of CDs on his messy floor.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t really know what I’m talking about here. You act happy and stuff, but it’s like . . . you’re not. Not really. I can’t figure you out. You go out all the time and party it up, but you yell at me if I try to have a drink. And by the end of every night you’re, like, trying to fix everything that went wrong. You made me drive seven people home last night!”

Whoops. “Sorry,” I whispered.

“Nah, it’s cool. I don’t care about that. I care about you, and why you’ve got this split-personality thing. I feel like you’re hiding something, but I can’t figure it out. All I can think is that it all goes back to Kaidan.”

I chewed my thumb cuticle. Jay was right, but he could never know the full truth, no matter how badly I wanted to tell him.

“Do you think maybe if you saw him again you might be able to get closure or whatever?”

There was an expectant tilt to Jay’s voice.

“I don’t know,” I began with care. “Maybe. But I have no idea when I’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, well . . . Roni told me not to tell you this, but I feel like I should.” More nervous hand rubbing to go along with his hazy, nervous aura. “They’re gonna be in town next week.”

My stomach lurched. Breathe, breathe, don’t lose it.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “Why will they be here?”

I knew all of their families lived in the Atlanta area—Duke Pharzuph had uprooted Kaidan from England to Georgia—but I didn’t know if the band had a gig in town or something.

“I guess just to visit home. But they’re doing a signing at a music store in Atlanta on Thursday night. Roni’s seriously gonna kill me for telling you.”

He’ll be here.

“Thank you, Jay.” I couldn’t keep the tremble from my words.

“I just hope it won’t make things worse. I’ll go with, if you want.”

I nodded, still glued to the seat and fighting for control.

I’m going to see Kaidan. Pure, foolish hope and joy cartwheeled through me.

Jay rubbed his chin and stood, kicking his book bag out of the way. He picked up a pair of jeans off his messy floor and gave them the sniff test.

“Man, I don’t feel like going to work today,” Jay grumbled.

Me either, I thought. And hopefully if no spirits showed tonight, I wouldn’t have to.

I stood up. “I’ll go and let you get ready.”

He stuck out his hand and I slapped mine into it with a weak smile.

“You’re always looking out for me, Jay. I’m sorry for how I’ve been lately.”

Jay pulled me in for a hug. “Let’s get you some closure, huh?”

Closure . . .

What I wanted was Kai in my life. To see him again could be disastrous . . . or miraculous.

I guess we’d find out soon enough.

About the Author

WENDY HIGGINS is the author of Sweet Evil, the first in the trilogy. She was born in Alaska, grew up an Army brat, and lived on five different military bases across the US, finally settling in the Washington, DC, area. She attended George Mason University for her undergraduate degree in Creative Writing, and Radford University for a Masters in Curriculum and Instruction. A former high school English teacher, Wendy was active in VATE (Virginia Association of Teachers of English). She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two children. You can visit her online at www.wendyhigginswrites.com.

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Copyright

Copyright © 2013 by Wendy Higgins

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

EPub Edition © 2013

ISBN 978-0-06-226593-7

Epub Edition © JANUARY 2013 ISBN 9780062265937

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