I lived about fifteen minutes from the center of downtown Clearbrook, in a neighborhood that was within walking distance of the elementary school where I used to spend my time daydreaming. The streets had a mixture of small and large homes and all sizes in between. My mom and I lived in one of the medium-size ones—a house that Mom could barely afford on her own with her insurance-agent salary. We could’ve moved into something smaller, especially now that Lori had gone away to college and I’d be doing the same in a year, but I didn’t think Mom was ready to let go of the house. Of all the memories and all that should have been instead of what was.
It probably would’ve been for the best for all of us if we had moved, but we hadn’t, and that was a flood under the bridge now.
I pulled into the driveway, passing the used Kia that Mom had parked on the side of the street. I turned off the engine and breathed in the coconut-scented interior of the decade-old silver Lexus that had once belonged to Dad. Mom hadn’t wanted it, and neither did Lori, so I ended up with it.
It wasn’t the only thing Dad had left me.
I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car before quietly closing the door behind me. Crickets chirped and a dog barked somewhere on the mostly silent street as I looked over at the larger house next to ours. All the windows were dark and the limbs of the thick maple in the front swayed, rattling the leaves.
A year from now I wouldn’t be standing here, staring at the house next door like a bona fide loser. I’d be away at college, hopefully at the University of Virginia, my top choice. I was still going to carpet-bomb other colleges in the spring just in case I didn’t get in on early admission, but either way, I would be gone from here.
And that would be for the best.
Getting out of this town. Moving away from the same old same old. Putting much-needed distance between the house next door and me.
Tearing my gaze away from the house, I walked up the flagstone sidewalk and went inside. Mom was already in bed, so I tried to be as quiet as possible as I grabbed a soda from the fridge and made my way upstairs to take a quick shower in the hallway bathroom. I could’ve moved into Lori’s bedroom at the front of the house after she left for college. It was larger and had its own bathroom, but my bedroom had privacy and it had an amazing second-story deck that I wasn’t willing to give up for a multitude of reasons.
Reasons I didn’t want to think about too much.
Once inside my bedroom, I set the soda on the nightstand and then dropped the towel by the door. I pulled my favorite sleep shirt of all time from the dresser and slipped it over my head. After turning on the lamp on the nightstand and flooding the bedroom with soft buttery light, I picked up the remote and clicked on the TV, turning to the History Channel with the volume on low.
I glanced at the scribbled-on world map tacked to the wall above my desk. The map to everywhere I planned on eventually visiting. The red and blue circles drawn all over it brought forth a grin as I grabbed a massive red-and-black hardcover from my desk, which was pretty much used only to stash books now. When we first moved in, Dad had built shelves lining the wall where the dresser and TV were, but those bookshelves had been overflowing for years now. Books were stacked in every spare place in the room—in front of my nightstand, on both sides of the dresser and in my closet, taking up more room than the clothes did.
I’d always been a reader and I read a lot, usually sticking to books with some sort of romantic theme and a classic happily-ever-after. Lori used to make fun of me nonstop for it, claiming I had cheesy taste in books, but whatever. At least I didn’t have pretentious taste in books like she did, and sometimes I just wanted to...I don’t know, escape life. To delve headfirst into a world that dealt with real-life issues to open my eyes, or a world that was something else, something completely unreal. One with warring faes or roaming vampire clans. I wanted to experience new things and always, always, reach the last page feeling satisfied.
Because sometimes happily-ever-after existed only in the books I read.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I was just about to crack the book open when I heard a soft rapping coming from the balcony doors. For a split second, I froze as my heart rate spiked. Then I hopped to my feet, dropping the book on my bed.
It could be only one person: Sebastian.
After throwing the lock, I opened the doors and there was no stopping the wide smile from racing across my face. Apparently there was also no stopping my body either, because I propelled myself through the threshold, arms and legs moving without thought.
I collided with a taller and much, much harder body. Sebastian grunted as I threw my arms around his broad shoulders and practically face-planted on his chest. I inhaled the familiar fresh scent of detergent his mom had been using since forever.
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation from Sebastian as his arms swept around me.
There never was.
“Lena.” His voice was deep—deeper than I remembered, which was strange, because he’d been gone for only one month. But a month felt like an eternity when you saw someone nearly every day of your life and then suddenly didn’t. We’d kept in touch over the summer, texting and even calling a few times, but it wasn’t the same as having him here.
Sebastian hugged me back as he lifted me up so my feet dangled a few inches off the floor before he settled me back down. He lowered his head as his chest rose sharply against mine, sending a wave of warmth all the way to the tips of my toes.
“You really missed me, huh?” he said, fingers curling through the wet strands of my hair.
Yes. God, I did miss him. I’d missed him way too much. “No.” My voice was muffled against his chest. “I just thought you were the hot guy I waited on tonight.”
“Whatever.” He chuckled against the top of my head. “There was no hot guy at Joanna’s.”
“How do you know?”
“Two reasons. First, I’m the only hot guy that ever steps one foot into that place and I wasn’t there,” he said.
“Wow. Real modest, Sebastian.”
“I’m just speaking the truth.” His tone was light, teasing. “And second, if you thought I was someone else, you wouldn’t still be attached to me like Velcro.”
He had a point.
I pulled back, dropping my arms to my sides. “Shut up.”
He chuckled again. I always loved his little laughs. They were infectious, even when you were in a bad mood. You couldn’t help but smile.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until Saturday,” I said as I stepped inside my bedroom.