 
### Table of Contents

Title Page

The Summer I Gave Up Boys

Copyright

Copyright 2

The Summer I Gave Up Boys

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

EPILOGUE

A QUICK NOTE

Guardian Preview

The Things We Can't Change Preview

The Lightwood Legacy

# The Summer I Gave

#  Up Boys

Kassandra Kush

# The Summer I Gave Up Boys

By Kassandra Kush

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Kassandra Kush

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# The Summer I Gave Up Boys

Kassandra M. Kush

Copyright © 2013

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

The information in this book is distributed on an "as is" basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also by Kassandra Kush:

Guardian

Protector

Messenger

The Things We Can't Change Part One: The Prologue

The Things We Can't Change Part Two: The Struggle

The Things We Can't Change Part Three: The Healing

The Things We Can't Change Part Four: The Love Story

The Things We Can't Change Part Five: The Epilogue

The Lightwood Legacy

For Information:

<http://kassandrakush>

Cover Design: Mae I Design

<http://maeidesign.com/>

# The Summer I Gave

# Up Boys

Kassandra Kush

For the real

Kristen and Amanda
ONE

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Kaliyah Simon, as I live and breathe."

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back at the sound of the deep voice, resigned. It was one that had haunted me for four straight years of high school, and even now, three years into college, it still made me grind my teeth together and want to throw something, preferably at the speaker himself.

I looked up (and up and up) into the grinning face of Isaiah Winters. At six-foot-three, there had been only one possible sport for Isaiah: basketball, proven by the FSU athletics hoodie he wore at that exact moment. Unfortunately, his other extracurricular all through high school had been making my life miserable.

"Surprised you can even get a breath through that ego floating around your head," I replied easily. After years, and I do mean years, of practice, the deep, silky part of his voice had no affect on my brain. As it wound around my spine to cause a shiver, along with some goose bumps on my arms, I had to admit my body was a whole different story.

Isaiah only laughed, a rich, deep, booming kind of laugh. He wasn't the kind of guy who cared if people glared at him for disrupting the peace. Without invitation, he dropped into the airport waiting seat next to mine, folding his lean body into the too-small chair. "Three whole years, and you haven't changed a bit," he said. "How have you been? You look worn out from finals."

I couldn't detect any mocking in his voice and decided that at the age of almost twenty-one, I could afford to be social and polite. I closed my book and looked into his blue-as-ocean eyes. "I am worn out," I admitted. "I got my first B this quarter. It hurt my pride. And my GPA." No need to mention why I'd gotten the B.

Isaiah clutched a hand to his chest and looked heavenward. "No, a B? Really? How awful."

I gave him a shove. "Just because you're used to getting them doesn't mean I am, jock-breath."

"Nice one," he said mockingly. He picked up my wrist with two of his fingers, just by the tips, as though it was contaminated. "You're looking a little pale with all the time spent studying for that hard earned B."

I knew this was a lie, of course. My skin was just as darkly tanned as it always was, even if I had been studying for finals the past two weeks. I had a healthy dose of Cherokee Indian from my dad, though my eyes and hair came from my mom's Scandinavian roots, and I had been a good olive color before I had moved to Florida my freshman year of high school. Isaiah's dad was bi-racial, his mom a startling blonde, and he was an interesting mix of both his parents. Due to our matching golden-brown hair, strange light blue eyes, dark skin color, and similar above-average height, there had been a lot of confusion about whether we were distant cousins in the initial days of high school.

"How many did you rake in this semester?" I asked, trying to turn the tables.

Isaiah leaned in close to whisper, "None, geek girl."

I rolled my eyes. "I find that pretty hard to believe, seeing as you went national this year and were voted MVP and had to pull two-a-days."

Isaiah cocked an eyebrow. "Whoa, careful, or you might fool people into thinking you actually leave your dorm once in a while."

"Ha-ha. Could you possibly quiet down a little bit? I'm trying to read." I brandished my book (Forget You, by Jennifer Echols, a MUST read I might add) right in Isaiah's face.

"You don't want to catch up with an old friend?" he asked, his voice full of mock hurt. Mocking. That was always the one word that would describe Isaiah in any situation. He lived to make fun of people, and he was clever enough to make it vaguely entertaining.

"We were never friends, Isaiah. We were mortal enemies," I corrected, still looking at my book on the pretense that I was reading it.

"That's kind of a harsh description. Everyone at Lemon Bay knew you had a crush on me."

I choked out a laugh. "In your dreams, Winters. Everyone knew I hated your guts because you broke Amanda's heart sophomore year. And before that, you crashed our tennis team party and trashed my pool."

"I was young and stupid then," he replied, pulling a contrite face and putting his hands together in front of him, begging. "Can't we start afresh? That was almost seven years ago now, it's time to put the past behind us."

I looked at him for a long minute, and he cracked first and began to laugh.

"It was pretty hilarious. I still remember you screaming at me. And I didn't break Amanda's heart. She dumped me for Jordan Rivers, remember? She broke my heart."

"You don't have a heart to break. Excuse me a minute," I said, turning to grab my vibrating phone. I saw the caller I.D and clenched the phone in my fist, counting to ten to collect myself. I hit the button to answer the call.

"Leave me alone, I hate you," I snapped, and ended the call, throwing the phone back in my bag.

"Jeez, tell us how you really feel."

I jumped and whirled in my chair, and then frowned at Isaiah's amused look. I'd been so wrapped up in my rage that I'd almost forgotten he was there. "I try to always be upfront about my feelings," I told him, my nose up in the air. "What exactly do you want, anyway?"

"Want? Want?" he asked incredulously. "Can't two old friends who happen to be waiting at the same gate sit next to each other and catch up without any ulterior motives? You wound me, Kaliyah."

Okay, so the warm tingles went up my spine again when Isaiah said my name. It's not like a girl can just be immune to six feet-plus of total gorgeousness--well-muscled gorgeousness to boot. But I had no designs upon Isaiah, as the idea of him having designs on me would also be extremely laughable. For one thing, I barely talked to him. At least, not anymore. We were the sort of 'friends' that only saw each other when we happened to have a class together, or a friend of mine who was a friend of his got us all together, which had happened fairly often in high school.

But Isaiah and I were not friends, per se. We just sort of... floated in the same circles, with lots of friends who were friends. We ribbed each other mercilessly, not to mention the fact that during the past three years at college, I'd hardly said two words to him. I didn't even know what his major was. We really hung in different crowds there.

And yet, here we were, as though nothing had changed since graduation day three years earlier when he'd been behind me in line to walk on stage and tipped my cap off just as I took my first step toward the principal.

I gave him a long stare, which I'd been told was pretty intense with my ghost-like pale blue eyes. He blinked back, completely innocent.

"I've got your number, Winters," I said, and then plugged my headphones back in to return to my book. I hadn't read one paragraph - and I'd like it known that I was at a really good part - when a headphone was tugged from my right ear and a voice said, "You know, it's good to see some things never change. How many more books do you have in your carry on bag? Five? Six? Twelve?"

"Baker's dozen, actually," I snapped, because everyone knew that interrupting me while reading was tantamount to death. "I'd offer to let you read one, but if things haven't changed, then you still can't read, either."

Isaiah clutched his heart. "Phew, low blow, Simon. That one will haunt me forever."

"Shut up," I snapped, because honestly, I couldn't come up with anything else.

"Niiiiiceee one."

"Look, it has been a very long two weeks and I would really appreciate it if you could just leave me alone," I said, in quite a polite tone, I thought, for having my jaw clenched the whole time.

"Where's the fun in that?" Isaiah asked, settling deeper into his seat.

I looked over at him in disgust. "Why are you wearing a sweat suit in the middle of summer in Florida?" I asked snidely, because all of the sudden this annoyed me beyond words.

"It makes me too hot to handle."

"Cuz that makes a lot of sense." I snorted. "What it does is make you look like a moron. It's almost ninety outside."

"I like to travel in comfort." He shrugged. Then without warning he suddenly reached over and grabbed one of my hands to examine my nails. "Neon green, Simon? Really? I thought when you hit college you'd grow out of this ridiculous habit."

I jerked my hand away from him and looked down at my fingernails, which were painted an eye-blinding electric green. I had a rainbow of neon colored nail polish, and I liked that it was my distinguishing characteristic: Kaliyah, the girl with the neon nails. It was a habit I'd begun right when I moved to Florida and started high school, and that was just how it had always been. I especially liked the way neon colors looked against my super tan skin at the height of summer. Usually, I got a lot of compliments on them. Needless to say, Isaiah had ragged on them mercilessly since day one.

Before I could make a snarky reply, the intercom above our heads burst into life. Relief flooded me as zones one through three were asked to board.

"Peace out, home skillet," I said to Isaiah, and hopped up, gathering all my things. It turned out not to be a great exit, since I basically had to stagger under the weight of my bags. I only had three extra books in my oversized carry on bag, but they were pretty thick ones, especially compared to Forget You. Whatever. At least it enabled me to escape Isaiah.

As a zone two passenger (for the first time ever) I was one of the first to find my seat, by the window as always, and stow my bags, also handy because they were right above me for once. I squashed my purse under the seat in front of me and then settled back with my iPod and book, ready to block out everyone for the next hour or so. But this, apparently, wasn't meant to be. No sooner had I been shocked by Zoey's mom pulling her out of the pool - oops, spoiler, sorry! -when I felt someone settle into the seat next to me. I did the casual corner of the eye look, to case them out. And then I groaned.

Isaiah only grinned at me.

"Let me see your ticket," I demanded. "I do not believe for a second that you were actually assigned the seat next to me by chance."

"I guess it was just meant to be, baby," he said, handing me his ticket willingly.

I examined it closely, but it was printed with his name and seat 34B in black and white, plain as day. I threw it back at him and covered my face with my hands. "I cannot believe this." Furiously, I plugged my headphones back into my ears and pointed a finger at Isaiah. "Don't speak to me. Don't even look at me."

He held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Hey, take it easy, killer. Do you think I wanted such a boring seatmate? I'll just take a page out of your book." He pulled out his own iPod and plugged the headphones into his ears.

Perfect, I thought to myself. This would go splendidly. It was barely an hour-long flight, including landing and taking off. I could make it that long without being affected by Isaiah's nice, clean man-smell, which had a hint of cologne. Just a whiff, the perfect amount that got you when you breathed deep. In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, it was Ed Hardy for Men. One of my favorites. Damn him.

I huddled down with my book, totally content all through take off. Then, well, I got to a racy part of the book. Zoey and Doug were in the back of a cop car, feeling each other up. I felt my cheeks turn crimson. I peeked out of the corner of my eye at Isaiah. He was reclining, eyes closed as he tapped long brown fingers to the beat of his music. What if he looked over and saw? It wasn't hard to read over people's shoulders, and who knew if his eyes were really closed? Wasn't I peeking discreetly at him?

My whole body was warm, and though I thought about speed-reading through the rest of the chapter, I just couldn't do it. The consequences if he saw were too great. I quickly shut the book and shoved it into my purse. Unfortunately, this left me with exactly nothing to do, since my other three books were stowed in the overhead bins. I turned to stare out the window.

"Doth mine eyes deceive me? Have I actually just witnessed Kaliyah M. Simon discard a book she hasn't yet finished?"

I slowly turned to glare at Isaiah. "My eyes are tired," I lied acidly.

"You should probably rest them. What's the book goal this summer?"

"I think I can do eighty-five," I said, almost cordially. "Five a week, roughly. Last summer was seventy-seven, but I didn't take a vacation. We'll be driving up to Minnesota for a wedding in August right before school starts, so the car ride should give me the extra eight."

Isaiah gave a low whistle. "You know, you read more books in one summer than I did in four years of high school."

"I know," I said, because everyone told me this. "But that's okay. You have a jock stereotype to maintain. If you got nerdy, the statistics would get totally off kilter."

Isaiah put a hand to his heart. "Must you always go for the jock thing? It's all I've got going for me, and I'm sensitive about it."

"Jocks aren't supposed to be sensitive, either," I pointed out, pretending to be totally engrossed in my iPod library.

"I heard you broke up with Andrew because he was too sensitive," Isaiah said innocently. He had to know he was opening up an ugly can of worms.

"That is not why we broke up!" I said loudly, and half the plane stared over at us. I lowered my voice. "I broke up with him because he cheated on me with some chick from California."

Isaiah's lips twitched. "Basically everyone at FSU has heard about it. It's turned into a huge deal. You have to admit, the breakup was pretty ugly."

"He's lucky I didn't castrate him after the book hit him," I said darkly. "I should have thrown it harder. Dirty, rotten, no good, low down-"

"Easy, easy," Isaiah said, looking pained as he protected his own manhood. "So, are you gonna find a rebound guy for the summer? I only charge ten bucks a date. Twenty, if you want me to feel you up."

I rolled my eyes. "Ten bucks? You must be going through a dry spell. Besides which, I would not pay you to feel me up. And thanks, but no thanks. I've sworn off boys."

He laughed. "What?"

I made a slashing motion in the air. "No boys this summer. I'm focusing on moi. On my reading, my blog, and my tan. No drama, no boys, no cheating, nothing."

Isaiah gave me a skeptical look. "Are you sure you'll be able to stick to that? Word on the street is that Andrew wants you back."

I shuddered. "Don't make me vomit. But you're right. Perhaps I should practice right now." I plugged in my headphones and relaxed in my chair, facing away from him.

Andrew and me together again? Like hell.
TWO

The flight was over practically before it had begun, and Isaiah didn't bother me again. I was glad; in bringing up Andrew, he had brought to the surface all kinds of memories that I had been trying to bury.

Most girls would have been hurt or scarred for life when they found out their boyfriend of almost a year had cheated on them. I was just pissed off. The reason the breakup had spread like wildfire was because for some idiotic reason, Andrew had decided to tell me he was a cheater in the main courtyard of Florida State University. I had proceeded to scream and throw everything in my hands at him - a pen, my phone, a notebook, and a very large English textbook.

The textbook had hit him square in the balls (due to my poor athleticism, rather than actual intent) and some fool had managed to record the whole thing and put it up on Youtube, where it had instantly gotten fifty-thousand hits in the first two days. Mainly from others at FSU, most of who felt compelled to comment on it with some asinine thing like, look, that's me standing there in the background by the fountain! or something like that.

The video had gotten so popular that people from Ohio, people I had played sports or gone to school with before moving away, actually posted it on my Facebook and were all, hey, Kaliyah, this girl looks just like you and wigs out like you used to! They kept doing it until I finally made a status saying I AM THE GIRL IN THE VIDEO OKAY? LAY OFF! Which had of course compelled good old Isaiah to post the link afresh on my wall saying, dude, is this you? Idiot.

So I had just found out my boyfriend of a year had been cheating on me for nearly half that time and become an internet sensation, all the week before finals, which culminated into the aforementioned B (clearly you can see this grade was in no way my fault. Even my professors mentioned the video to me. The track coach had asked me to try out for the shot put team, much to his hilarity and my annoyance). I had the unfortunate feeling that this video was going to haunt me for the rest of the summer.

The wheels touching down on the runway jolted me from my thoughts, and I realized we were landing. I packed my iPod away in my purse and drummed my fingers against my seat, anxious to land. At least Amanda was picking me up from the airport, so I could download to her a little bit.

Isaiah looked pointedly from me to my hand, and I snatched it away, scowling. Finally, finally, we were disembarking and I was able to powerwalk past Isaiah through the Sarasota/Bradenton airport, out to the pick-up area to wait for Amanda. I was just thumbing through Forget You as I waited, anxious to find out what happened between Zoey and Doug, when a familiar throat cleared next to me.

I closed my eyes. "Please tell me that you aren't catching a ride with Amanda."

"My parents are coming for me," Isaiah said. "Chill out, no need to panic. Although, I could stick around and see if I could get you to break your no-boy pact for the summer."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I said, spotting a familiar cherry-red Jeep weaving through traffic. I stepped to the edge of the curb as Amanda pulled over and I opened the rear door. I threw my bags inside and slammed it with a satisfying thud, and turned to Isaiah. "See you around, but hopefully not. I'm sure you understand."

Isaiah saluted me as I hopped into the car, and Amanda pulled back into traffic.

"Was that Isaiah Winters?" she asked, all agog.

"Yup," I said.

The SUV jerked to the side slightly as Amanda reached over and snatched my hand. "This is fate!" she cried.

I grabbed the oh-shit handle out of reflex with my free hand. "What's fate? That you're about to kill us? Keep your eyes on the road!"

"Sorry." She let go of my hand and put her hands precisely at ten and two on the wheel. "And I was talking about Isaiah! Did you know he's working at White Elephant this summer with Robbie?"

I shrugged. "And?"

"And I've decided this summer is the summer he becomes mine!" Amanda declared. "You know I've had a crush on him since high school. I need to snatch him up while we're home for the summer, without all those other college girls at school to compete with."

"Okay, a, I think you can more than compete with other college girls," I said honestly, glancing at Amanda's long, wavy brown hair and petite frame. She was so small, it was like watching Yoda try to drive the giant Wrangler, only younger and obviously better looking. "And b, why would you want Isaiah? He's a jerk!"

"Only to you!" Amanda protested. "And that's because you told Sarah Lawrence you heard he was gay in tenth grade and so she wouldn't go to homecoming with him, and told him to ask Jordan Rivers instead, since he had a crush on him. Isaiah was really pissed about that."

I couldn't help sniggering. "How is it my fault that Sarah actually believed me? And besides, you dumped Isaiah for Jordan in that year. I thought that ship had sailed." I made an expansive gesture with my arms to indicate just how far that ship ought to have sailed. Off the edge of the earth, perhaps.

"It has come back into the harbor," Amanda said with satisfaction. "Sailed in, dropped anchor, and is here to stay."

I slumped in my chair. "What about Robbie? Kristen and I both agree that he has a crush on you."

Amanda waved a hand. "I disagree. We're just friends. But needless to say, this weekend, we're going to White Elephant for appetizers and flirtation."

I rolled my eyes and told her I was game, but that she owed me. The sacrifices one made for friendship.

*

When Amanda dropped me off at home, I was greeted by an empty house - sort of. My dog, a much too big black Labrador retriever named Phineas, set up a joyous racket and greeted me with sloppy, reckless abandon. He jumped, he yelped like a seal, he barked, he slobbered, he licked my face and nearly knocked me over with his 95-pound body, all of which was muscle and oversized paws.

Other than that, I was on my own. My parents were spending the first month and a half of summer doing a tour of the good northern state of Ohio, my birthplace, and visiting my four older sisters, all of whom were a good twenty years older than I was and married with families (did I mention I was a surprise child?...Surprise!).

I loved my parents dearly, and would miss them, but let's be honest; a summer at home being nagged by my parents constantly, or a summer spent by myself, having complete freedom? Not to mention, rent free, with our super nice pool at my disposal. We had a guest cottage attached to our garage, and I stayed there, as opposed to the main house, so I was free to make a mess and feel as though I had my own little apartment.

It was the reason I had flown home instead of taking my car. My parents had come up to FSU and taken my car back home to save money on gas for their road trip, since I drove a coupe. They left me their Hummer to drive all summer.

Besides, Kristen, the third member of our group, was spending the first month of break back in Ohio with her own parents, but then she was coming back here and staying with me for the remainder, so I wouldn't be alone the whole time. I already missed her, but I was glad for the break, since we had dormed together for the past year with Amanda and one other girl.

I spent the day unpacking, and fielding phone calls from Andrew, which was kind of fun in a vindictive, therapeutic kind of way. One call I answered and had Phin bark into the phone until Andrew hung up. Another time, I held the phone up to my speakers while they blasted Taylor Swift's Should've Said No. I hoped he was finally getting the message that I never wanted to speak to him ever again.

After everything was put away to my satisfaction, I curled up on the couch with Phineas and watched Vampire Diaries until three in the morning. It was good to be home.

*

My parents moved to Florida just after I turned fourteen. Remember how I said I was a surprise child? Well, I was a surprise child of their old age. So they ended up retiring and moving to Florida as they had always dreamed, dragging along a teenaged daughter, which they had probably not dreamed.

I had been homeschooled, like my four sisters before me, but after a lot of begging, I'd gone to public school for eighth grade. Since I'd only gone the one year, it wasn't such a big deal to move away and start at a new school. (People always said I was oddly loud and social for a homeschooler. Little did they know.) I knew I would miss my sisters, but I also thought living in Florida might be kind of cool. It wasn't like I couldn't move back in four years for college, if I so chose.

The worst part had been leaving Kristen, my best friend. We'd been friends since we were five, and she'd moved next door to me and I had stalked her on my tricycle until she'd said hi to me (the outgoingness didn't really kick in until I was seven or so).

I'd moved away, but we had never lost touch. We would Skype and text constantly, and she came down for spring break and I went up with my parents almost every summer. Our senior year, we had applied to both Florida State University and Ohio State University, saying that we would both go to whichever one turned out to be the best choice for our studies and tuition.

Not only had FSU offered us more scholarship money (still small, but every little bit helps), they had a better English program for me (I read all day, obviously I was going to study it) and a nursing school easier for Kristen to get into.

The final bonus was that they had one building with tri-dorms, so Amanda, Kristen, and I had all requested to room together, and the request had been granted. That had cinched the deal, since Amanda had been my closest friend all through high school, and she and Kristen had always gotten along so well during Kristen's visits. Kristen had packed her bags and we'd had a crazy three years together so far.

Kristen was spending the first month of summer in Ohio with her family, which left me to do the two things I usually did all summer: read and work.

I worked at an arts and craft store, and had since I was sixteen. Since it was a large corporation, I was able to transfer back and forth from home to a store closer to Florida State. This worked out well, since I didn't have to worry about finding a summer job, or taking a hiatus from my job near school and praying they would take me back.

My official title was Support Specialist; I did the money in the mornings, price changes, some stuff on the computer, a little filing, and some other random things. What I really did was hang in the office and gossip with Katie, the assistant manager, or argue with Mike, the store manager. I liked the job because I worked only Monday through Friday, and while I came in at eight, I got to leave at twelve-thirty. The perfect schedule for a lazy college student home for the summer.

Today was no different. I picked up half a dozen donuts on the way to work, and Katie met me in the parking lot with two cappuccinos.

"Girl, you're famous!" she screamed as she got out of her car.

"I don't want to talk about it!" I shouted back, and we headed for the front doors of the store.

"I never liked that jerk, he was weird and I always thought he smelled funny," Katie said as she unlocked the door and stepped into the air-conditioned relief of the dark store. It was already humid and nearly eighty.

"You met him like, once!" I protested, and we bickered all the way to the office.

Throughout my five-hour shift, every employee who welcomed me back also asked me about the video. I'd thought this was bad, until a customer asked me where the Gorilla Glue was (aisle eight) and then squinted at me for a long moment.

"Oh my gosh!" she practically shrieked. "You're her! You're the girl from the video!"

"Um, no," I said, desperately trying to play it off. "Not me."

"Good for you, honey," she said, ignoring me and patting me on the shoulder. "Way to take him to task for what he did. My husband cheated on me for ten years and all I did was change the locks. Watching you was inspiring!"

"Not me!" I insisted loudly.

The woman just chuckled and tottered off toward aisle eight. I sighed, turned around, and bumped into someone.

"Oh, excuse-" I trailed off, then frowned and crossed my arms. "What are you doing here?"

Isaiah Winters was grinning at me. "Having a tough time living down that video?" he asked, leaning casually against a shelf.

"Actually, I'm loving my newfound stardom," I snapped. "I'm considering switching my major to theatre."

He snorted. "As if. You wouldn't get to read too many books if you went into acting."

"It's worth the sacrifice for the millions of dollars," I said, with a mock dramatic sigh. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to clock out."

"We should hang," Isaiah said. "Got plans after work?"  
I looked at him incredulously, my jaw hanging open. Had he actually just asked me to hang with him?

Isaiah laughed heartily. "Joke, Simon, jeez. I have better things to do with my time than waste it with you."

"I should hope so," I retorted. "Aside from the fact that I'm still off boys, I have a meeting with my agent to plan out my next big career move, so I'm unavailable anyways." I strutted off toward the office, only wondering afterward what Isaiah had been doing in a craft store, of all places. 
THREE

On Friday after work, I decided I'd had enough lazing around. I'd already knocked out five books, what with Amanda only having weekends off as well and Kristen still out of town. I could no longer in good conscience put off my summer fitness. I'd gained a solid ten pounds after my freshman year of college, and while I had lost five last summer, I was determined to lose the last five this summer. It was more out of necessity than vanity; I really didn't want to spend my money on new clothes when I had a huge wardrobe at my disposal if I could just lose that one pesky inch around my waist.

It was brutally humid and fairly hot, but I was used to it. You could loathe and rage at the heat, or you could accept the fact that you had to live with Lion King hair and armpit sweat spots and just move on with life. After my first year of living in Florida, I had gone with option two.

I threw my long, heavy hair up into a massive bun and pulled on spandex running shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top. Knowing the significance of this, Phineas started freaking out, turning circles around me and whining. As I pulled on my running shoes and strapped my iPod on my arm, he scrabbled, claws clattering and scraping as he desperately tried to get traction on the tile floor. Finally, he found some tread and ran full force at the door, jumping up on two legs and pounding his front paws against it.

"PHIN!" I shouted, and he turned the puppy dog eyes on me. I stomped over and clipped on his leash, and we were off.

I jogged down Pine Street, the main drag that ran along my neighborhood, at a steady pace. I ran the first mile and impressed myself that I didn't stop (except for when Phin had to do his business), and walked the second. I turned back toward home, intending to run the third and then walk the fourth, but had to stop after just a block, gasping for air. I slowed to a walk. Work up to it, Kaliyah, I told myself gamely. It's the beginning of the summer, you ran a mile, that's something to celebrate!

I compensated by doing a power walk to finish the third mile, and then slowed to a real walk for the final stretch to home. More of a leisurely stroll, actually. I let myself become distracted by my music, singing into the empty air and playing the air drums. Occasionally Phin looked back at me with a concerned expression, letting me know just what he thought of my singing abilities. I looked up and saw there were only two blocks until the turn into my neighborhood.

"Finish strong, Phin!" I shrieked, and we took off at a dead sprint.

I did a loud guitar rif imitation as I ran, dance-running as Fun came on and making the most of my imaginary drums. I was just singing - okay, shouting - the chorus to "Some Nights" when there was a crunching noise. I looked to my left and jumped a foot off the sidewalk and into the grass, away from the car that had just pulled over next to me.

"Jeez!" I said, hand over my wildly beating heart. "Off roading much?"

Isaiah Winters grinned at me through the open passenger window of his Escape. "So you like Fun? Hmm, I'd pegged you as more of a Taylor Swift-Rihanna person."

He'd heard me singing. Well, they probably could have heard me singing all the way to the other coast in Miami. How embarrassing.

"I do like Rihanna and Taylor Swift," I said haughtily, as well as breathlessly. "I also happen to like Fun and Mumford & Sons as well. A girl can't like several different genres of music?"

Isaiah shrugged. He eyed me up and down, and I put my hands on my hips, unwilling to shrink away just because I was wearing my rattiest clothes and my face was the color of a tomato. I could feel sweat dripping down everywhere, the sides of my cheeks, nape of my neck, little rivulets running down my chest and back.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

I looked down at myself, then back at him. "Running?" I phrased it as a question because it was so blatantly obvious.

"Why? It's," he checked his dash thermometer, "eight-five degrees out! Even I run at the YMCA during the summer. This humidity is ridiculous."

"I can't take my dog to the Y." I gestured toward Phineas, who was lying on his side on the sidewalk, tongue lolling out as he panted.

Isaiah inspected Phin critically. "Real killer you got there."

"Thanks. He also likes to eat small children and chew on rocks for fun." The sad thing was, the rocks part was true.

"Do you want a ride back to your house?" Isaiah asked. "Your dog looks done in. You, of course, look ready for another 5k."

"I could handle a 10k right now, clearly," I said, my chest still heaving. "And thanks for the offer, but I'm still off boys, remember? I probably shouldn't get into a car with one."

Isaiah's eyes widened as he crowed, "Siiiimonnnn! Are you saying you're attracted to me?"

"NO!" I gagged and pretended to stick a finger down my throat. "Practice, remember? I'm practicing on the undesirables like you so when James Franco pulls up, I'll be able to turn him down too. I'm sticking to my guns on this one."

Isaiah laughed even as he rolled his eyes. "Right. Are you swearing off social events as well, or are you going to the beach party tonight?"  
"I'll be there. Amanda and I are going." I refrained from mentioning that Amanda had called the day before and said we were starting operation Get-With-Isaiah early, since there was a beach party he was rumored to be attending. She would be thrilled when I texted her a confirmation that he would actually be there.

"If you feel like holstering your guns for a little while, I'll let you flirt with me, free of charge," Isaiah said generously, and I made a face at him as he pulled away.

*

You know how people say that when you graduate from high school, you'll lose touch with 95% of the people you knew there and never speak to them again except when they invent the next social media site and you find them on the Internet? Well, this didn't hold true for my school.

Maybe it was because Englewood was such a small town, and also a retirement community, with an average age of seventy-five. The rest of the population was your general Florida hillbilly crackers, so young people were really a minority and had to stick together. Maybe it was because there was only one local high school. Or maybe it was because most of the kids I'd associated with, the ones involved in athletics and National Honor Society, had ended up going to Florida State along with me.

Whatever the reason, even though we barely spoke at school because of our varied majors, when we were home for the summer, we all still hung out together. It was like a time warp. Maybe it was the small town thing - there just wasn't anything else to do, there were never new people to hang out with, and when you lived in vacation land, why would you travel away during the summer?

Either way, I could always count on Sarah Lawrence and Aaron Miller hooking up at the beach party and dating all summer, then breaking up when school started, just as they had done for the past seven years. I could count on Jim Warren, who lived down the street from me and hadn't gone to college, showing up to the beach party and getting trashed, and bumming a ride home with me, just as he had done since he was a freshman in high school. I could count on Isaiah Winters forming a basketball game in the parking lot of the beach, only deigning to join us once it was too dark for him to perform his perfect lay ups and take on the rest of the basketball team, one versus six other boys, and still beat them soundly.

I could count on Amanda mooning over a guy (this time, Isaiah Winters himself) while Robbie Anderson stared longingly after her. On Laurie Newman wearing only short-shorts and a bikini top to flaunt her body, though the top inevitably came off during the Jaws reenactment we couldn't seem to avoid, every single year. On Lizzie Dietrich getting drunk and bawling about how she was ugly and had no life, and Jordan Rivers spiriting her away to assure her that this wasn't true, usually in the back seat of his Honda (this was, in fact, the reason the ship of Jordan and Amanda had sailed the first party after tenth grade had ended).

And me? I was a slap-happy drunk, so usually I was sitting on a sand dune laughing maniacally, gossiping with the other girls from my class who were neither sharking on boys, crying, making out in back seats, or stripping naked and running into the ocean. Which I have to say, really doesn't happen very often, even when you live a mile away from the beach.

It was comforting, in a way, to come back to where all was familiar, even as we grew and changed and claimed to mature and grow up.

Sure enough, when we cruised around the parking lot searching for a spot to park at dusk, I could hear a repetitive noise: the familiar cadence of a basketball hitting the ground. I could tell it was Isaiah by the unhurried, easy rhythm of the ball thunk thunking against the concrete. I had, after all, gone to almost seven years' worth of basketball games where he was always largely featured.

"He's so hot," Amanda moaned as we drove by the basketball hoop, where sure enough, Isaiah was calmly dribbling as six other boys advanced on him.

"As in, sweaty from playing basketball when it's ninety degrees out and a hundred-percent humidity?" I asked innocently. "Why yes, he is." I, on the other hand, had showered after my run and was dressed in thigh-length jean shorts and a wildly printed tank top in neon colors that matched my purple nails perfectly. Amanda and I had both braided back our long hair, experience having taught us that this was the only way to keep it orderly in the evening beach breeze.

"You need to get over this grudge," Amanda told me as she finally pulled into a spot. "After he and I are married and living happily ever after, you're going to be seeing a lot of him."

I rolled my eyes - it appeared there was going to be a lot of this going on this summer - and we exited the Jeep and strolled up toward the beach entrance. Amanda tried to lag behind and walk more slowly past the basketball game, but I resolutely pulled her forward.

"Kaliyahhhh!" she whined. "I wanted to watch for a little bit!"

"You're going to look desperate and clingy," I said forcefully. "It's almost dark, anyway. He'll come up here soon."

She huffed but followed along, and soon we were passing Sarah and Aaron, who appeared to be having a very serious getting-back-together conversation next to the trashcans, and removed our shoes as we walked onto the sand. As we approached the volleyball net, our usual party meeting place, a chorus went up from the people already gathered there.

"Kaliiiyyahhhhh! Amannnnnduhhhhh!"

We waved like beauty queens as we walked up, and then fell in with the crowd. I hugged a few people and Jim Warren shoved a beer into my hand, which I discreetly exchanged for a Mike's Hard Lemonade. Beer and I didn't get along too well.

Predictably, Robbie Anderson was the first to come and talk to us for an extended period of time. I watched his lovelorn looks toward an oblivious Amanda, and shuddered. It was relieving, in a way, to swear off boys. There would be no drama, no angst over whether someone liked me, no need to check in with him or have him try and restrict my movements. No sir. I was a free, independent woman, and I was going to enjoy it. Not that I had ever let any guy boss me around. As if.

The girls around me began to shriek and giggle for no discernible reason, until I felt a heavy arm that was slick with sweat settle around my shoulders. I stiffened and sloshed my drink as I fought to pull away.

"Hey, girls," Isaiah said, smiling to the crowd around us, his dark cheeks tinted pink and his chest moving rapidly up and down.

"Isaiaaahhhhhh!" the girls all shrieked in perfect harmony. What was it about girls that we felt the need to draw people's names out to four or five syllables?

I finally managed to fling Isaiah's arm from my shoulders and took a giant step away, just as Amanda took a giant one toward him. When he wasn't looking, I made a grand gesture at her that said, be my guest!

"Kaliyah," Laurie said in her whiny, high-pitched voice. I'd always sort of loathed Laurie, because she had dated Andrew back in high school. Now, of course, she was welcome to him. "We saw that video on Youtube of you and Andrew," she continued. "I hope you didn't do any permanent damage to him."

"Doesn't matter, Laurie. You'd take him even if he was bent," Robbie said, and we all sniggered.

Laurie turned crimson, but flipped her hair over her shoulder to show us how little this fazed her.

"The video is old news," Amanda said in a superior tone. "The rest of the world has moved on."

"Even you, Kaliyah?" Laurie smirked.

I flipped my own hair, but since it was in a braid and also whacked Isaiah's bicep, it was a lot less dramatic. "As far as I'm concerned, Andrew Owens and I never even dated. That douchebag is dead to me. He can hook up with all the hoes he wants, and now I don't have that jerk hanging around my neck, weighing me down."

Laurie smirked harder, and Sarah Lawrence touched my elbow, looking concerned. "Um, Kaliyah," she began, but Laurie cut her off.

"Then I guess you won't mind that he's right there." Laurie stepped aside to reveal a circle of three guys: Jordan Rivers, Jim Warren, and the devil incarnate, Andrew Owens.

"Oh, hell no!" I snarled, and then shouted, "Hold me back!" And I started across the sand toward Andrew.

Luckily, Sarah and Amanda each caught an arm and stopped me, because I wasn't sure what I would have done if they hadn't. I only wanted to scare him a little bit, enough to oh, maybe make him stop calling me thirty times a day?

"Kaliyah, calm down!" Laurie shrieked, legitimately panicked.

Andrew and the other boys looked over at the sound of my name, shock and then uneasiness coming over their features as they saw me struggling.

"Hey, asshole!" I shouted, and Andrew jerked, his eyes widening. "Yeah, you! Quit calling me! This is all I've got to say, right here!" I got a hand free and shot him the bird, and then shook Amanda off my other arm. "Let me go! I'm fine!"

I took a step away, turning my back to Andrew and pretending to shake it off. "Does he look scared?" I murmured.

"About to wet himself," Amanda chortled. "Laurie's going over to make sure he's still breathing."

"She can have him. Maybe now he'll leave me alone," I snorted, and caught Isaiah staring at me. "What?"  
He shook his head. "You're a real piece of work, Simon."

"Finest piece you've ever seen," I retorted, and strutted away across the sand.

I looked back and saw Amanda and Isaiah talking, finally getting some alone time. Isaiah looked up and caught me staring and raised his eyebrows, and I quickly turned away.

Robbie was also staring at Amanda, and I gave him a friendly nudge with my sand-encrusted foot. "What's up, Anderson?"

He stared moodily into his beer bottle, swishing the liquid around in circles. "She's after Isaiah again, isn't she?"

I patted him on the back. "At the moment, yes. Kristen and I are working on it. The two of them wouldn't last, anyway. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Humph," was all Robbie got out before Amanda ran up to us, spraying sand everywhere.

"Guess what?" she cried.

I covered my drink protectively. "You've taken up soccer?"

"No! Isaiah and I were talking and we both agreed you should throw a big pool party for your birthday at the end of the month!"

I raised an eyebrow as she bounced around in excitement. "Did you, now?"  
"Yep!" Amanda gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look for Robbie's benefit, but I could read past it: A party where I can feed a love potion to Isaiah and make him fall madly in love with me and propose to me! Something along those lines, anyway.

"So... happy birthday!" Amanda said cheerfully, giving me some jazz hands and spirit fingers, the whole kit and caboodle as she tried to win me over.

I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just kept on smiling.

"Kaliyah! Amanda! You gonna play volleyball with us?"

We both looked over to the volleyball net, where Isaiah was calling us. He was tossing a battered beach volleyball up in the air and then down again, the floodlights from the parking lot just bright enough to illuminate the volleyball net, along with Isaiah's spectacularly well-defined arm muscles.

"So long as no one minds getting hit in the head with the ball!" I called back, and we trudged over. Again, poor athleticism. I did mention I was more of an indoor/reading person, didn't I? "And we'll talk about this later!" I hissed to Amanda.

"I know! I can't wait to plan it!" she said happily, and I gave up. It looked like I was having a party for my twenty-first birthday. Undoubtedly a very large, very messy party.

We formed two teams and got the game started. Usually, I just stood next to the tallest person on my team (unfortunately Isaiah was on the other side of the net tonight; he was usually excellent coverage, being so tall) and avoided the ball while making critical - though amusing - remarks about everyone else.

For some vindictive reason, however, Isaiah seemed determined to actively involve me in the game, and every shot he got was sent careening back over the net in my direction. I had no choice but to swing at them and attempt to get them back over the net. I failed every time; they usually went wildly off toward the spectators on the sidelines. Perhaps Isaiah was just targeting me because I was a guaranteed point for his team. As the game went on, I slowly became aware of Andrew sidling closer and closer to the court, until he was standing close enough for me to hear him.

"Kaliyah!" he hissed.

"Playing a game here," I said shortly, and then squeaked as the ball came directly at my torso. I saved my chest from damage, but Robbie was a different story. The ball hit him in the side of the head, and I covered my mouth. "Sorry!"

Robbie rubbed the side of his head ruefully, but as Amanda asked if he was all right and pulled him down to look at the point of impact, he looked as though he didn't mind.

"Kaliyah, I need to talk to you!" Andrew hissed again.

I paused from the game to glare over at him. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't want to talk to you."

"But Kaliyah, about what happened, we-" he took a hasty step backward as the ball came at me again, and I swung at it wildly. I somehow managed to give it a perfect bump toward the front line, where Sarah set it and Robbie spiked it over the net, giving us our first point. We all cheered.

I turned back to Andrew. "Go away."

"No!" he insisted. "I want to talk! The way that-"

I was quickly losing patience, both with Andrew and also with the volleyball game. His nagging was making my playing even worse and more dangerous than usual. "Leave me alone, Andrew!" Wild shot that almost took Amanda's head off. "Get away before I do something that I regret, again. We parted on bad terms. Let's just leave it at that, instead of making it on horrendous terms." The ball came at me again, and I ducked. It hit the ground a foot in front of me. "Dammit, Isaiah!" I shrieked. He laughed.

Andrew looked indignantly at me. "You threw a textbook at my crotch!" he hissed. "I think you owe me a chance-"

"ANDREW!" I bellowed. "Get out of my face!" I was looking at him, but out of the corner of my eye I saw the volleyball headed straight for me. I turned my attention to saving my own life, Andrew be damned, but my anger and irritation made my movements jerky and erratic.

You know how they say horrible moments happen in slow motion? You can see it about to happen, you just don't have time to react? Well, this one happened in supersonic speed. It was over in the blink of an eye.

The volleyball came at me, I swung an arm at it, and boom! It hit Andrew square in the balls. There was a shocked moment of silence as we all watched Andrew's hands fly to his crotch, and he fell to his knees in the sand, collapsing over into the fetal position.

And then Laurie was shrieking, "I got it! I got it all on camera!"

Isaiah edged closer to me, leaning down to whisper through the net, "Was this the next big career move that you and your agent planned?"
FOUR

A week later, the knock came just as I finished changing into my lounging clothes - my rattiest and biggest shorts that I'd stolen from an old boyfriend, ripped and paint splattered, and a stained t-shirt with a big hole in the armpit. My hair was damp and unscrunched, makeup gone, contacts out. My thighs also hadn't been shaved in several days, but luckily my men's shorts were long enough to reach my knees, so it was all good. Suffice to say, I was working it.

I headed to the front door, expecting the pizza guy, but instead I got Isaiah Winters. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning against the doorjamb. "You? Again?"  
He was grinning, teeth white against his dark skin, and gestured toward the twenty I held in my hand. "You know, I'll dance for just a dollar."

"I bet you would." I sighed again, dramatically, as the pizza guy pulled in and walked up the drive.

"You're not really going to eat that whole thing by yourself, are you?" Isaiah asked as I handed over the twenty and accepted the pizza.

"I am, and I'm gonna enjoy every bite," I snapped, and shut the door. I set the pizza on the table and went to peak out the window. Isaiah was staring through it at me, hands on his hips, eyebrow raised.

I sighed and headed for the door. Alerted by the smell of pizza, Phin trotted with me to the door. When I opened it, he leapt out at Isaiah, caught between alarm at a stranger and pleasure at the possibility of a new friend.

"Jeez!" Isaiah stumbled backward in alarm as the 95-pound dog came at him.

I could have told him that Phineas was just a big teddy bear, that if you scratched him behind the ears he would melt in your hands, but I didn't. There was something just so satisfying about seeing a six-foot male cower in fear that I simply enjoyed the show from the doorway. Dog and boy finally realized they weren't scared of each other, and a moment later Phineas was trotting back into my house, leading Isaiah proudly inside.

I closed the door behind him, wondering how many rules I was breaking. My no-boy pact, that was for sure. But what about the girl code? Amanda had staked a claim on Isaiah for the summer, and while I had no desire to have him either, she wouldn't be happy to hear he'd spontaneously come over to my house and shared a pizza with me. I would have texted her and said she should accidentally-on-purpose stop by my house, but she was working. Finally, I shrugged. It had been a long day, a long week, and I just wanted to eat my pizza. Maybe tearing Isaiah down in the meantime would make me feel better.

I plopped down at the table without inviting him to join me, but he sat down anyway, completely at ease in my house. Phineas immediately placed his head on Isaiah's lap and began to drool.

"That was some beach party last weekend," Isaiah said, wolfing down his first piece of pizza. I'd taken three slices right off the bat, having seen Isaiah eat before. It was like watching a garbage disposal.

"Tell me about it," I grumbled. I'd barely seen Amanda since then, and Kristen wasn't due back for another week, and suddenly the need to vent on someone overtook me. "Did you know he's still calling me?" I demanded. "I hit the guy where it hurts twice, and he's still trying to talk to me!"

"Talk about a masochist," Isaiah snorted.

"I should have hit him in the head," I grumbled. "Maybe it would have knocked some sense into him."

"Did you know the second video already has a hundred thousand hits?" Isaiah asked.

"Yes," I bit off. "And thanks for posting it on my wall. And Tweeting it to me. Twice."

Isaiah grinned wolfishly. "No problem. I just didn't want you to miss your fifteen minutes of fame."

"I didn't want you to miss your fifteen minutes of fame," I mimicked, making a face. Maybe it was because I'd just gotten off a long day - they had asked me to stay later at work today due to a call off, and it was already six o'clock - or maybe it was because I was sort of starved for company, but I couldn't bring myself to be totally rude to Isaiah. Although I was curious...

"What are you doing over here, anyway?" I asked, getting up and pouring us two glasses of Coca-A-Cola. I knew for a fact that Isaiah lived on the other side of Englewood, closer to the beach. "I find it hard to believe that you would come all the way over here just to visit your mortal enemy."

"I was over at Jim Warren's house," he explained, taking a huge bite that was about half the entire piece of pizza. "And his girlfriend booty called him and he left me hanging, so I thought I would come over and bother one of my favorite people. Did I tell you that you look really cute tonight, by the way?"

I glared at him, and just for that, took another piece of pizza, even though I was sure I would vomit if I ate another slice.

He just laughed and took the last slice from the box, and then looked around my house. "Nice. I've only ever seen the outside, when I crashed the party that one time." His eyes landed on my desk, where my laptop was sitting, along with the stack of fifteen books that I'd already read and still needed to write reviews for and post on my blog. My to-be-read stack was piled on the coffee table in front of the couch, a neat pile of about fifty books, so far.

"Jeez!" he exclaimed. He abandoned his pizza (something strange for any boy his age and size, to be sure) and walked over, picking through the piles. "So this is where the magic happens, huh?"

"Don't mess those up," I snapped. "They're in order." They weren't, but I was touchy about my books, and his hands were probably greasy.

He looked up at me, eyes wide. "How much money do you spend on books? Why don't you just get a Kindle or something and be done with it? Isn't it a lot cheaper?"

I shrugged. "Not a whole lot, depending on what books you're reading. There's a big Goodwill bookstore in Venice where I buy a lot of books for reviewing. I can spend thirty dollars there and come out with a dozen new books, opposed to two hardcovers at Barnes and Noble. I still get the newest books from Books-A-Million and Barnes and Noble, but I also do Kindle books. I review a lot of self-published people who post stuff on there. So it's a pretty big mix. And everyone who knows me knows that there's only one appropriate gift to give: a gift card to a book store. And if I'm strapped for cash, there's always the library."

"I'll say," Isaiah muttered. "Where do you..." he trailed off, his eyes roving and then locking on my bedroom door.

"Isaiah, stay out-" I began, but it was too late.

With a spryness that could only have to do with all those years on the basketball court, Isaiah darted into my bedroom.

"Holy cow, Kaliyah!" I heard him cry from inside. "Why don't you just start your own bookstore?"

I ran in after him, pointing a finger at the door. "Get out!" I couldn't believe Isaiah Winters, of all people, was in my bedroom. How many girls would have killed to be in this position? A lot, that was for sure. All I felt was the urge to cut off his head for invading my privacy. A girl's bedroom was her sanctuary, after all!

Mine was filled wall to wall with books. My bed was shoved into one corner, a bunk bed my parents kept for guests came occupied the other corner, and eight matching bookshelves covered the remaining available wall space. Some of my more adult books were in my parents bookshelves in the big house, and I had two low shelves in the living room underneath the television as well. At last count, I had almost seven hundred books, but that was before my seventy-seven books last summer, and the ones I'd collected throughout the school year.

I pushed Isaiah out of the room and sat him back at the table. I didn't like him barging in without permission. It felt as though he'd caught a glimpse of my lacy underwear (of which admittedly, I have only a limited amount. My money went to B&N, not VS), not my personal library.

Isaiah sat at the table, arms resting on the arms of his chair, staring at me. "How can you just read all day?" he asked in wonder.

I shrugged yet again. "Basketball is to you what reading is to me. I love it. It's as simple as that. And it's not like I just sit inside and read all day. I do it when I'm lying out in the sun. I listen to audiobooks when I drive between here and Florida State. I do it when I'm waiting around at airports or the doctor's office. I still go and hang out with my friends or go see movies. It's not like I'm a hermit. I just really read fast."

He shook his head. "So that's what you want to do?" He made a vague gesture toward my desk. "Review books for a living?"

"Of course not," I said, scoffing. "I wouldn't spend all this money on a college education if that's what I wanted to do. I want to edit books."

"Like, an editor? At a publishing house?"

"Exactly."

I'd thought he would be scornful, but instead, a very surprised look came over his face. Like, genuine, as-though-I'd-slapped-him surprise. Then he recovered and was nodding, and I wasn't sure I'd even seen the surprise.

"Of course. You want a job where you get to tell other people what to do and say. That makes perfect sense for Kaliyah Simon."

I rolled my eyes. "That's totally not what I would do. I want to help people make their books better. A ton of the books I read, especially the self-published ones on Kindle, would be even more fabulous with a good round of editing. And I don't just mean a copy edit. I mean a content, or story edit, working on their plot and characters. That's why I review books. The best way to learn what works and what doesn't is just to read, all the time. Although, I'd like to review books on the side, hopefully for a major publication so it will bring in extra money."

"Shouldn't the authors be paying you to review on your blog? Don't you have a lot of followers?"

"Only because I've been blogging consistently for four years now," I pointed out. "You're not gonna have anyone following you for like, the first year. And no, they don't pay me because I do it mostly for my own enjoyment and the benefit of others, and because I can put it on my resume. I am pretty well-known in the blogosphere, though, and new authors, especially the self-published ones, will ask me to review their books for promotion purposes. I think that's cool. I was so excited when the first one asked me, and now I have like, two or three asking almost every month."

Isaiah was staring at me, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "I never knew that," he said, sounding disappointed - in me? In himself? - I wasn't sure. "I mean, I read your blog when you first started it in high school, but since I wasn't a really big reader I just stopped."

"You made fun of me for it, so I figured it wasn't a big loss," I said dryly.

This was the most serious conversation I'd ever had with Isaiah, and all of the sudden I was uncomfortable. I didn't like how we weren't fighting, how when I looked at him I didn't feel my usual flicker of annoyance. All I could see were how nicely his big shoulders filled out his bright orange t-shirt, and how it made him look so tan. The same skin color that I was aiming for, with all my hours of sitting out in the sun with a book.

I saw his eyes, always so blue, boring into me and making me squirm. I'd always thought he was good looking, it was stupid not to at least give him that, but today he looked stunning. I pulled the brakes on my thoughts in an abrupt, screeching halt and searched for something to say that would put us back on familiar ground.

"I hope you're not planning on crashing my birthday party," I finally blurted, in as frosty a tone as I could manage. "Because I'm not inviting you."

It was weak, but Isaiah bit into it. "Don't worry, I'll be there," he said, with casual nonchalance. "It's turning into a pretty big deal, isn't it? Everyone is talking about it. Jim said he's been enlisted to buy a keg."

"By who?" I demanded.

"I don't know. Probably Amanda."

A rush of annoyance filled me, both at Isaiah for calmly accepting the party and Amanda for planning it. Although, now that I thought back, Isaiah had been involved in the conception of it as well. My eyes narrowed, and I was suddenly tired of the cat and mouse game that she was playing. The words were out before I could stop them.

"You know Amanda only went along with the idea of the party because she wants to use it as an excuse to hook up with you."

I was doing her a favor, I reasoned. If Isaiah liked her, they would actually get together. If he didn't, maybe he would put her out of her misery and she could move on and not waste her summer.

"What?"

Isaiah's reaction, I had to admit, was less than promising for Amanda. His jaw actually popped open, something I thought only happened in books. I began to enjoy myself, glad all was back to normal.

"Yup," I said, feeding my pizza crusts to Phineas, as though I didn't care at all about what he thought of this information. "She wants to relive some of your tenth grade passion. She's been gunning for you all summer. Why else would she come to White Elephant by herself so often?"

"I thought she was coming to see Robbie!" Isaiah protested.

I shook my head. "Nope. So. Do you like her?"

He stood abruptly, dusting pizza crust crumbs off his hands. "I gotta go," he said. "I'll see you around."

And then he left my house, leaving Phin and me staring after him in surprised confusion. It was only then that I realized I had also forgotten to ask why he'd come into my work place three more times this week, all three times of which I had avoided him, due to the new video and my consequent humiliation. This had also meant I'd been unable to see what he was purchasing, and I resolved that next time I saw him, I would force the truth out of him. 
FIVE

Isaiah hadn't been exaggerating about the party becoming a fairly big deal. Not a hundred person extravaganza or anything, but in a community as small as ours, a party with more than twenty people (essentially, your closest friends and their cousins), was considered huge.

By the next weekend, our usual crowd plus some people I'd barely spoken to since high school graduation had already texted me for details, none of whom I had spoken to about the party. I hadn't yet decided to be laid back and accept it, and so this, combined with yet another Isaiah sighting at the store through the security cameras (what was he doing here? It was the fourth time this week!) put me in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

Just because I was already feeling pissy and I snapped at him, my manager, Mike, sent me to put out the beading freight, a job I loathed because I had no patience for it. I struggled with the hundreds of individually wrapped packages of strung beads, muttering darkly to myself and snapping at any customers that dared to approach me.

There was a security camera to prevent theft trained on this aisle, with feed to the main office. Every time I dropped something or accidentally tripped over the boxes, Mike would say something sarcastic to me over our radios, so I knew he was watching me. I would make a rude gesture back at the camera if no customers were present.

At five minutes to go before my shift ended, I heard a customer behind me, and it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Excuse me, I was online yesterday and saw this video-"

"YES, IT WAS ME, OKAY?" I shouted as I turned around, tossing down the beads. "I threw the textbook and hit the volleyball! There! I admitted it!"

The woman blinked at me, and then continued cautiously, "-video about a knitting pattern, and they said you would have the special needles. Could you show them to me?"

"Right," I said quickly. "Right. Sorry. Knitting needles. They're right this way. I can show you..."

*

I fled from work that day, glad I wouldn't have to see the place for three whole days. It would take me a while to live today down. In fact, it was quite possible that I never would.

Luckily, Amanda texted me at that exact moment and asked if I wanted to meet at Panera for lunch, and it sounded like the perfect remedy for my awful day, assuming the cashiers didn't recognize me from the video. We ordered our food and sat down, and it appeared I was safe.

"Have you talked to Kristen? Isn't she flying in tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah. She lands at the crack of dawn, so Duane is going to pick up her up. He'll drop her off at my house and we'll be over so we can go shopping."

Tomorrow wasn't just the party, but my actual birthday as well. I was excited, regardless of the whole video debacle, the looming party that I was sure would end in disaster and Isaiah and Andrew (who was still calling me multiple times a day). My life was a bit of a mess, now that I thought about all of it.

"Cool," I said, and began to regret my decision not to go right home after work as Amanda launched into her next and favorite topic.

"Isaiah is coming to the party tomorrow, right?" she fretted. "I've been trying ever since we got home to catch him alone or something, but a girl can only swing by White Elephant for onion rings so many times by herself before she starts to look desperate."

"So far as I know," I said with a shrug. I knew for sure, of course, but I didn't want to clue Amanda in that Isaiah had stopped by my house last week. It hadn't been weird at the time (something that was kind of odd, now that I thought about it) but hearing that your crush had stopped by your best friend's house and shared a pizza with her was bound to send any girl into a tizzy.

Plus, she would probably pull from me the fact that I had told Isaiah about her crush, which was totally against the code. Also, I hated to be the one to tell her that Isaiah didn't really seem too thrilled at the idea of her liking him. Let someone else rain on her parade. Besides, if all the attention made Isaiah uncomfortable, I was content to sit back and watch.

"He better," Amanda stabbed a tomato in her salad and regarded it with distaste. "When I go to White Elephant, Robbie always talks to me more than Isaiah. I think Robbie is scaring him off and-"

I slammed my hands down on the table. "Can we please have just one conversation that does not involve boys?" I begged.

"No one made you give them up," Amanda said tartly. "It's not like it's Lent or anything."

"Yes, but I-"

"Um, excuse me."

Amanda and I both looked up to see two Justin Bieber-esque boys, about fourteen or so, standing nervously next to our table.

"Yes?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

One nudged the other, who finally held up an iPhone, where I recognized the now familiar frame of my first video: GIRL GETS CHEATING BOYFRIEND WHERE IT HURTS.

"We were just wondering if this was really you, and if it was, could we have your autograph?"

The other boy held out two napkins and a pen. My first reaction was an h-to-the-no, but they were looking at me with long faces and little puppy dog eyes, their little hair flips so adorable.

I sighed and accepted the pen. "Yep, it was me," I admitted, and gave them both my best John Hancock. I even asked for their names (Steven and Ben, if you were curious) and personalized it for them.

They walked away, nudging each other and inspecting the autographs, holding them as though Justin Bieber himself had written it, not some random girl who became an accidental Internet sensation. I turned back in my chair and saw Amanda cracking up hysterically.

I put my forearms on the table and rested my head on them, letting my shoulders slump. My life was going to hell in a hand basket.

*

The day of my twenty-first birthday, June 30th, dawned clear and hot. It was a typical Florida summer day, blue skies with not a cloud in sight, the air calm without a hint of breeze, and the sun already high overhead, promising temperatures in the nineties. We would probably get a small summer rainstorm about three in the afternoon, but it would burn off by five, like always. Just in time, Amanda had assured me the day before, for the party to start.

Phineas and I were in bed, having a wonderful time sleeping in, when all of the sudden the world exploded, and maniacal yelling, frantic barking, and high-pitched girl screams filled my ears. I jerked upright in panic, and then saw it was only Kristen and Amanda, jumping on my bed.

"Leave me alone," I whined. "I want to sleep more!"

"If I'm already up, then you need to be up," demanded Kristen, the real sleeper among us.

"No!" I pulled the covers over my head, but this backfired as Phin pounced on me, thinking we were playing a game. "Okay, fine!" I threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.

They took me out to breakfast and then we spent several hours at the mall, searching for outfits for the party. This was a half-hearted effort on my part, since I hadn't actually planned the party. Not that I didn't enjoy a good party. But the idea of this one was giving me a headache; Isaiah would be there, making fun of me the whole time.

And Andrew would undoubtedly try to crash it. He was still calling and leaving me messages every day, the latest the one left this very morning, where he wished me a happy birthday and declared his everlasting love for me. Was I really looking forward to dealing with that this evening? Not to mention, I would have to protect my house, my parents' house, and the pool from a bunch of drunken college kids.

Let me rephrase: I enjoyed a good party that was not thrown at my own house. Hosting was a pain.

I finally found a cute sarong-style dress at Victoria's Secret that I could wear over my bathing suit. It was white and made me look incredibly tan, so I was satisfied. We made a quick stop at the DMV so I could get my new driver's license (horizontal now, hooray!) and then we went to the liquor store so I could take it for a test drive.

Like most places in Englewood, the liquor store by my house was a little dingy and crammed wall to wall with stuff, in this case, alcohol. A disgruntled looking old guy stood behind the counter, pointedly ignoring us and our giggling - scantily clad young girls aren't really a commodity a mile and a half away from the beach. We decided on a bottle of wine, which we would take to the beach and share before returning home to get ready for the party.

I walked up to the counter and passed over my shiny new license, and the old guy spent a long time looking between me and the license (need I say that I looked perfectly identical to it, since it had been taken two hours earlier?). Finally, he set it down and said in a gravelly voice, "You look real familiar, girl. Are you on the Internet or something? In a video?"

My birthday euphoria completely evaporated, and my friends exploded into laughter behind me.
SIX

"It's official," Amanda declared as we spilled out of the car at the beach. "Those videos will follow you around for the rest of your life. You'll move to Chicago or New York and go into a job interview and they'll be like, ohmigosh, you're that girl! The one with the book and the volleyball!"

"Thanks, I feel so much better about it all now," I said sarcastically.

"Oh my gosh!" Kristen cried, and then shushed herself as she whispered, "Look! Isn't that Laurie Newman?"

We all looked to where she was pointing, and indeed, Laurie seemed to have someone in her clutches for the summer - literally. She had a guy pressed up against the side of the bathroom buildings, and they were going at it, suctioned together like a pair of octopi.

"Eww," I said. "That's disgusting. I would never touch that building, outside or inside."

"Who's she with?" Amanda asked, craning her neck.

Being the girls that we were, we couldn't resist taking that route to the beach to see who Laurie's claws had sunk into this time. We walked closer, staring, but trying not to appear obvious (and failing utterly).

I caught a glimpse of familiar sandy-blonde hair, and the back of my neck tingled. No way, I thought, and stepped even closer. Laurie moved her head to the side and I saw round cheeks and thick eyebrows that were easily recognizable, even as Kristen and Amanda gasped and Laurie finally released her victim, who turned out to be none other than Andrew Owens.

*

I watched Aaron Miller catapult himself off the corner roof of my house and into the pool, and shook my head. So long as no one vomited in the pool, killed any of my mom's plants, or broke something irreplaceable like an arm or the waterfall, I thought I could get away with the whole thing.

Amanda sashayed up to me, leading not her intended beau, but Robbie Anderson. Well, I had always told her they were much better suited, anyway.

"Fabulous party, Kaliyah!" she screamed into my face, over the noises of "Like a G6", drunken yells and a lot of splashing. "You always have the best ideas!"

She slipped away through the fence with Robbie, presumably for some privacy on the front garden swing, before I could remind her that this had all been her idea and I had been a totally unwilling host. I stayed where I was, nursing my baby buzz with my private stash of frozen margarita mix and praying that all would end well.

One thing was for sure - I would be hosting a massive sleepover tonight. There were only about two designated drivers between the forty-five people, so I estimated only five to ten would be going home. No way could I let the others drive. Oh, and ten more would walk home, that was Jim and his buddies.

Kristen and Amanda could stay in my parents' room, Robbie and Duane in the second bedroom there. They were the only people I trusted in my parents' house. Everyone else would have to crash in my cottage. Good thing it slept six in beds alone.

I rubbed a finger over the screen of my phone, feeling restless. Andrew freaking Owens. In a way, I was relieved he appeared to be taking a break from trying to get me back. On the other hand, I could have done without finding out about it on my birthday. This party was going to blow, for me at least. Especially since Amanda had hooked up with Robbie instead of Isaiah - what was the point of this party now, anyway? Although, at least Andrew wouldn't be crashing it, and I wouldn't have to worry about another Youtube video. Duane, Robbie, Aaron, and Jim had strict instructions to immediately throw him or Laurie out, if either dared to show up.

"Sup, sexy lady?" a voice next to me asked.

Speak of the devil. I turned to look up and up at Isaiah. How was it a guy as freakishly tall as him managed to look so good? In the month since we'd been home, his tan had gotten darker, just like mine. Only wearing loose cargo shorts, a black tee with a slight V-neck, and matching basketball Nikes, he still looked amazing. Maybe it was all the muscles. Or maybe it was the freakish height. Either way, I kind of wanted to eat him up with a spoon, though at the same time I kind of wanted to slap the irritating smile off his face.

"Go away," I sighed, mashing the slush around in my drink. "I'm not in a very good mood right now."

"Uh-oh, you aren't one of those weepy drunks, are you?" He took a cautious step backward.

"No." Which was the truth. I was a happy, loud drunk. "I'm standing guard. I'm not even drunk."

"Whoa. I can fix that right away." Only teetering the slightest bit, Isaiah looked over to peer into my drink. "What are you drinking? Liquor? Okay, good, it's shots time."

"I don't want to get drunk," I protested, as he dragged me over to the backers rack that had been removed of all my mom's plants and was now the makeshift liquor cabinet.

Isaiah turned to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, staring me in the eye. For the most part, his gaze was steady. I couldn't help but wonder if my eyes appeared half so piercing in my dark face.

"Kaliyah. Even though you still seem annoyed whenever you see me, I would say that you and I have pretty much become friends this summer. I would even venture to say we're BFFs. I know you're upset that Andrew is sucking face with Laurie-"

"I can't believe you actually just said BFF's," I murmured over him.

"-but is the way to get over that really to wallow and hide your tears in a salty margarita?"

"I happen to like margaritas," I said defensively.

"I'm gonna give you some tough love right now, okay? I've seen you party. You're a wicked dancer, and I say that only with slight sarcasm. When you're in the mood to go out, you're the total life of the party. But when you're in a funk and everyone else is having fun, you are a total. Buzz. Kill. Sometimes you're still too uptight and a goody two-shoes. Loosen up! This is your birthday party, and you aren't even drinking! You don't have to worry about being arrested for it, and you aren't getting shit-faced! You aren't even dancing!"

Even though what he said rankled, I felt compelled to point out, "This is totally not a birthday party. Amanda threw this to hook up with guys. And everyone got me alcohol as 'gifts' so they could drink it!"

"And? It's the best kind of birthday! Look." He turned and with a familiarity that astounded me, grabbed two shot glasses and mixed two shots that were red on the bottom and yellow on top. "You need to be able to go around saying that you had the time of your life at the birthday party you had while your cheating ex was with another girl after he declared his undying love for you. And so you need to get drunk, dance, shed some clothes, and make out with people in dark corners."

"Perhaps we can just work on the first two?" I sniffed the shot. "What is this?"

"Pineapple upside down cake. It's good."

Seeing I remained unconvinced, Isaiah went in for the kill. He threw out a challenge. And he knew I could never resist a challenge. I had a pathological need to both win and prove people wrong.

"Bet I can get you drunk enough to dance with me," he whispered. "Loser gets to be the winner's slave first day back on campus."

I looked at the splashing party around me. Jeez. It was only ten-thirty. And Isaiah was right. Not only did I need to have a great time to show up Andrew, I needed to have a great time for myself. After all, it was my twenty-first birthday party, and I wasn't going to drink? I needed evidence, pictures, I needed a good time.

I clinked my glass against Isaiah's. "Deal." And down both the shots went. He was right, it was good.

Isaiah turned to the pool at large, spreading out his hands, one of which, I now noticed, held a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka that someone (Jim, I think) had generously gifted me with. "Everybody get your butts up and out of the pool!" he shouted in a court side bellow. "Birthday shots time in honor of Kaliyah, our magnificent hostess and birthday girl!"

A massive cheer went up from the whole yard. From out of nowhere, someone produced disposable plastic shot glasses - which I knew I would be fishing out of the pool tomorrow - and they began lining up to Isaiah, who gifted them with a generous shot of vodka. Even Amanda managed to tear herself away from Robbie's lips to join the circle around me.

Presently, Isaiah was handing me the bottle, which had only an extra-large shot left at the bottom, and was raising his own glass. With the other hand, he began to conduct the crowd, and soon I was being serenaded by a very off-key version of "Happy Birthday to You". As the last warbling note faded into the air, Isaiah raised his cup and said with great relish, "Go Seminoles!" and downed his shot.

There were a great many hoots of agreement, while half the crowd chorused, "Gators!" before drinking their own shots. I caught Kristen's eye and she nodded at me, grinning widely. Still with my bottle-shot in hand, the two of us climbed on top of the patio table and raised our drinks.

"Go Buckeyes!" we screamed, and downed the shots. Our cheer was greeted with a very loud and emphatic "Boo!"

I found Isaiah holding his hand out to me to help down from the table. I gladly accepted it, in too much of a shot-haze to find it weird that this was probably the first time our hands had ever touched. I accepted the drink he pressed into my hand, peering down into it.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Sex on the beach."

"You didn't put any roofies in it, did you?"  
Isaiah laughed long and hard at this. I thought he was actually going to rupture something as he doubled over with one hand on a knee.

"No, Simon, it's clean," he assured me. "I have no desire to pound your unconscious body."

I glared at him even as I took a long drink from the cup. "Gee, your way with words is truly astounding. Maybe you should be the English major, not me?"

Isaiah laughed again, and led me to the sundeck of the pool. "Come on, let's at least get your feet wet." And finally, the party started.
SEVEN

When I opened my eyes the next morning, my first thought was that Phineas had grown twice over in size and had lost all his fur. Usually when we were spooning, he was the one tucked against my abdomen, not the other way around. Then I opened my eyes and saw Phin curled up down by my feet.

Oh, jeez. I took in the leg wormed between mine, the hard chest pressed against my back, and the soft breathing tickling my hair. I looked down at the hand I held closely against my chest. A strong, muscled, sexily-veined, very brown hand. Tingles went through my whole body as I took in the feel of the body aligned with mine. A warm flush stole through my body, bringing with it another feeling. Something dangerously close to... attraction. Liking. Dare I say... lust.

I was spooning with Isaiah Winters.

And I liked it.

This was so totally not good.

Before I could further analyze the situation, the urge to pee slammed into me, and took precedent over all else. Ever so slowly, I wormed my way out from dog and boy, stuffing my unicorn Pillow Pet into Isaiah's arms to replace my body. He accepted it with a murmur and a twitch, and I managed to slide off the bed. Phin opened one eye and beat his tail a few times before going back to sleep.

"Some guard dog you are!" I hissed, and then darted for the bathroom.

It was mercifully free of vomit, which made me marginally relax about the outcome of the entire party. I took care of business and then took a daring peek into the mirror. I'd definitely come out of parties looking a lot worse. Just matted hair and dark circles under my eyes. Those were easily fixed.

I crept back into my room for new clothes. There were three people on the Hide-A-Bed, two each on my bunk beds, several more scattered around on the floor, and Isaiah, in my own bed. What a mess.

I took a shower, loving as always the feeling of being so clean after feeling so gross. I braided my hair over one shoulder and applied foundation, liner, and mascara. There. I looked pretty good.

My water plan had worked fabulously, as always. My mom was the one who had shared the wisdom where drinking was concerned, and the trick was to stay hydrated. A glass of water between every drink, and ever since I started following this rule, I'd escaped both wretched hangovers and the ugly prospect of spending a night worshiping the Porcelain God. I only had a slight twinge of a headache, which I banished with ibuprofen as the coffee was brewing.

After taking a wonderfully renewing sip of the coffee, I opened my cupboards to examine the breakfast situation. I needed something to soak up everyone's alcohol so they could drive home. I looked inside my box of Bisquick, but there was only about a cup left. In the fridge, I found a whole loaf of bread. French toast it was.

I broke out the eggs, milk, and bread, and by the time four pieces of bread were sizzling on the skillet, Phineas, followed by a tousled, heavy-lidded Isaiah, were stumbling through my kitchen. Phin came to beg for breakfast, while Isaiah went straight to the bathroom. While he was in there, I concentrated on restarting my pulse. He was shirtless. When had he removed his shirt? I may have escaped a hangover, but many parts of the evening were still a little hazy.

Weird, how that could happen. Like, after lying down in bed with Isaiah, I was blank. Had we fooled around? As a hard and fast rule, I didn't do that with people I wasn't dating, especially when I had been drinking. It created too big of a mess afterward.

Then again, this was the first time I'd actually awoken with a boy I wasn't dating in my bed. Harsh-mouthed though I was, I still had a slight conservative bent where my relationships were concerned. I closed my eyes and ran through the evening, reaching deep into my subconscious, hoping I wasn't going to end up disappointed in myself. Birthday shots, singing, more shots, feet in the pool, more drinks, talking with Kristen and Amanda, shots... dancing with Isaiah.

Damn! I'd lost the bet! I didn't remember going into the cottage, but I remembered passing around a bowl for people's keys, and the moment I'd fallen into my bed. Isaiah had lain down next to me. Then I had... I had... I'd pushed him off the bed! I jubilantly did a little dance, spatula in hand. Ha! Take that, Isaiah Winters! He must have climbed back on, because I was pretty sure I'd fallen asleep the instant I closed my eyes.

Isaiah came out of the bathroom, thankfully with his shirt now on. He appeared to have washed his face, and his eyes were much more alert. He still looked kind of sick, however. I pointed at the coffee, and he immediately went for it.

"How are you not hung over?" he croaked after his first sip.

I leveled my spatula at him. "Those who don't know how to drink, shouldn't. How did you learn to make all those drinks?"  
Isaiah settled on the kitchen stool. "My roommate is a bartender. He taught me a lot of stuff. Best roommate I've ever had. Are you and Kristen and Amanda dorming together again next year?"

I shook my head as I placed a giant pile of French toast on the counter. Isaiah dug in with a giddy smile on his face.

"Amanda, Kristen, me and four other girls are all renting a house together. We had to dorm an extra year because Kristen didn't find a job in Florida in time to sign the lease for an apartment, but we ended up saving a lot of money, so it was okay. This house is a seven bedroom. We already picked it out and signed the lease."

"Jeez." Isaiah swallowed a huge mouthful of toast. "That's gonna be all kinds of crazy. Seven chicks?"

"All kinds of awesome crazy," I corrected. "And some wild parties. Wanna be our bar tender?" I wasn't sure where the offer had come from, but it seemed appropriate, somehow.

Isaiah tipped his mug toward me. "Say the word and I'll be there. Where's your house at?"

"Falcon Lair Court, walking distance to campus."

He choked. "No way!"

I raised an eyebrow at him, eating a little more delicately. "Way?"

"My old roommate and two buddies from the basketball team are renting on Falcon Lair with me! Are you guys getting that huge house on the cul-de-sac?"

I nodded sagely. "Before bills, it's only two-fifty a person for rent, with all seven of us. It's a steal."

"No freaking way. We're right next door. The blue house."

I sat back and stared at him. "Are you messing with me right now?"

A slow grin formed on Isaiah's face. "Well, well, well, who would have thought? Kaliyah Simon and Isaiah Winters, neighbors." He paused, and then asked in an old lady cackle, "Can I borrow a cup of sugar, dear?"

I held up a fork warningly. "Don't get any crazy ideas." I paused for effect, and then said primly, "You can have half a cup of sugar."

Isaiah gave a small huff of laughter. A moment later, he gave a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, which made me laugh. And soon, we were both cracking up over our French toast.

"I'm getting all kinds of ideas for wicked practical jokes to play on all of you guys," Isaiah said at last, wiping the corners of his eyes.

"I would be careful, if I were you. Phineas is living with us. We all decided we'd feel safer with a guard dog around."

We both looked down at Phin, who was sitting still as a statue. Lines of drool hung from his mouth nearly to the floor, like stalactites in a cave.

"Easy, killer," Isaiah said, palms out to the dog. "You're scaring me."

"That's his rabid dog look," I said seriously. "And you ought to be careful. Seven girls against four boys? That sounds like pretty bad odds, practical joke wise."

Isaiah stood and put his empty plate in the sink, then ruffled my damp hair. "Guess we'll have to wait and see?" he whispered in my ear, and then waltzed to the door. "See you around, Simon."

And he left. I stared at the door, surprised by his quick departure. For how many times he had sought me out, vied for my attention, the past few weeks, I thought he would have made the most of our time together.

I remembered how it felt to have Isaiah pressed up against me, his strong arms around me, his breath tickling my neck. A warm flush suffused me again, along with some more tingles. I sat bolt upright on my stool as the horrible truth washed over me.

I was attracted to Isaiah Winters!

*

I managed to get everyone kicked out of my house in record time, except for Kristen and Amanda, who were staying with me for the weekend in honor of my birthday. Two hours later the three of us were lounging by the pool, me with water, them with the half-assed Bloody Marys we'd managed to whip up (could have really used Isaiah's help on that one).

"These are supposed to make you feel less hung over?" Kristen asked in disgust, holding the drink out in front of her. She was in a retro-style black and white polka-dot bikini, her brown sling bob pushed away from her face with a headband, her green eyes shaded by dark Ray Bans.

Amanda nibbled on her celery stalk. "Maybe we could just switch to a vegetable plate?"  
I drew my knees up on my lawn chair and flipped my sunglasses to the top of my head. "I need to talk to you guys about something," I said in a rush, anxious to get it over with.

"If it's a big fat I-told-you-so about Robbie and me, I could really do without," Amanda said. "You guys were right, okay? There, I admitted it."

"It's not about you and Robbie. It's about Isaiah and me."

They visibly leaned in closer toward me.

"What about the two of you?" Kristen asked suspiciously.

I closed my eyes. "IthinkIhaveacrushonIsaiahWinters."

"What?!"

I opened my eyes. Kristen and Amanda were eyeing me the way a vulture surveyed fresh road kill.

"We talked this morning, and we... we seem to have shared a bed last night after the party," I explained. "Nothing happened, obviously. I wouldn't have let it, even if I was drunk. But... lately, instead of being really annoyed when we're arguing... well, it's started to feel a lot like... flirting."

"It's about freaking time you admitted it," Amanda said, sounding disgruntled.

"I'll say," Kristen agreed. "All I heard for four years of high school was how much he annoyed you, and I kept waiting to hear about the magical moment when you two would fall in love." She raised her hands to the sky, petitioning the Almighty. "Praise you, Jesus, for putting these two out of their misery and allowing me to be here to witness the moment!"

I pushed her, and then looked apologetically at Amanda. "Are you mad? I swear, I didn't really feel any different, not really, until last night and this morning. I know you wanted Isaiah."

Amanda waved her hand. "Consider that a moment of sheer insanity. For one, he's way too tall for me, and second, Robbie and I are together now. We're about as bad of a cliché as you and Isaiah."

"But what do I do?" I wailed. "He's Isaiah Winters! He wouldn't like me!"

The two of them exchanged a look.

"Um, actually, he does," Amanda said sheepishly. "He told me so himself."

"What?" This time it was Kristen and me whose jaws dropped.

Amanda swished her drink around, watching the ice circle the glass. "It's why I finally talked to Robbie last night, actually," she explained. "Right before the party started yesterday, Isaiah pulled me aside and said that someone told him that I was interested in him and that's why I had suggested the party, someone that I might be a little irritated with if I wasn't supremely happy at the moment." She gave me a pointed look and I tried a winning smile.

"I was trying to help you," I said. Half truth. "I didn't think he would go and blab to you."

"Anyways, Isaiah said that he was glad he and I were friends and I was beautiful, but he was also friends with Robbie who'd had a crush on me since high school and so he couldn't cross a brotherhood line. He also said that he'd been in love with Kaliyah since high school and hoped this summer was the summer he'd finally win you over. It turns out that's actually why he went along with my party idea in the first place."

"What?" I wondered if I would ever be able to stop saying what in this incredulous tone.

"Boys don't annoy girls the way Isaiah does to you unless they like them, Kaliyah," Kristen said, her tone very all-knowing. "Duh."

"But why didn't he just tell me a long time ago?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable. Although in the past, Isaiah really had annoyed me. I hadn't been able to stand him in high school, and not in that I-can't-stand-you-but-I-have-a-hidden-crush-on-you kind of way. I'd literally just been unable to stand him.

Amanda shrugged. "He said you really disliked him in high school, and at first, you really were an annoying know-it-all, and-"

"Flattering," I murmured, rolling my eyes.

"-and he was too scared. Then when we all got to FSU, it seemed like he never had a chance, since he hardly saw you and it seemed like whenever basketball wasn't taking over his life, you were dating someone else. And then when you two met up at the airport this summer, he felt like it was a sign that this summer was when it could happen. And by the way, he asked me not to tell you any of this, so for the record, I didn't," she added.

I could only sit in my chair, floored by this information.

Kristen gave a dreamy sigh. "Isaiah Winters likes you, Kaliyah. You're so lucky! I love Duane and everything, but I mean, Isaiah is drop-dead gorgeous." Duane was Kristen's main squeeze. I'd gone to high school with him, and our first night at FSU, we'd randomly run into him (and Isaiah and Robbie) on campus, and I'd introduced him to Kristen. They'd hit it off right away, another reason she was spending the majority of her summer here, rather than back home.

"But I swore off boys for the summer!" I cried. "I can't break my pact, just for Isaiah!"

Kristen and Amanda exchanged a look and scooted forward on their chairs, closer to me.

"Kaliyah," Kristen said forcefully, "after the whole to-do with Andrew, I agree that taking a small break from boys was a good idea. A very mature decision. I think it kept you from making a stupid decision while in rebound-phase. However-"

"However," Amanda cut in, "if Isaiah Winters falls into your lap, I think it would be a good reason to think about breaking the pact. Tearing it apart, in fact, and stomping it into the dust."

"Maybe putting a big old heavy gravestone over it?" Kristen suggested. "In all seriousness, this is different from being on the rebound or a summer fling. You've known Isaiah forever, Kaliyah. It's like, sudden, but then again, not really."

I examined the end of my braid, which was finally drying with the sun beating down on it. "I feel like it would be weird," I confessed. "I've never hung out with Isaiah and been unable to bicker with him. What if that's the extent of our relationship? Or our chemistry? Witty repartee and making fun of each other? I mean, I've known Isaiah for almost seven years now, and I barely know him, know him. I don't even know what his major is, or his middle name, or his favorite color. I just know he's pretty clever and likes to play basketball. And makes good shots."

Kristen snorted at the last one. "I'm a bit of a novice when it comes to the two of you, having missed the glorious high school years, but I would say the sparks flying between the two of you have quite a bit of substance."

"Maybe you should go out on a date," Amanda suggested casually.

"A date?" I echoed.

"You know, the traditional way of getting to know a person of the opposite sex, and seeing if you're attracted to them," Amanda explained slowly, as if I were dense. "You don't have to marry him, Kaliyah. Just see what it's like not to be at each other's throats the whole evening."

"If you can, that is," Kristen added dryly.

I lay back in my lawn chair, trying to soak all this in. I pictured my interactions with Isaiah through the years, searching for a hint of legitimate flirtation or attraction. If it was there, I'd totally missed it. But then again, we really had barely seen each other at college. Whatever he was studying, it clearly had nothing to do with the English department, and his athletics pretty much kept him wrapped up in the winter and spring.

Other than that, we'd only crossed paths when we saw each other at parties, or were home for the summer, or occasionally during big group outings. And every time had been the same; just like coming back to Englewood for the summer, we'd regressed into high school mode, tearing each other down with the greatest delight, much to the chagrin of everyone around us.

"Do you think he'll ask me out on a date?" I finally voiced the question, and wanted to cringe at the hopeful edge to my voice. "I mean, I can't just ask him out of the blue. I'm not supposed to know any of this, right?"

"Right," Amanda said, and pursed her lips. "He might still be scared to ask you. Maybe you could just try to be a little nicer to him so he feels a little more confident about you saying yes? You're... you're a little intimidating, Kaliyah. And I say that with the greatest admiration. But you're smart and pretty and, well..."

"You have a smart mouth," Kristen said bluntly. "So put a sock in it and let the boy try and work some magic."
EIGHT

The three of us spent an enjoyable day baking to a crisp in the sun, floating on rafts, listening to music and drinking pitchers of frozen strawberry daiquiris and pina coladas. The sun was just beginning to set when I heard shells crunch and a knock on the outside gate.

"Come in!" I called, assuming it was our neighbor, checking to be sure I was still alive after the party last night.

A pack of butterflies launched into flight in my stomach as the gate opened and Robbie Anderson, Duane Joseph, and Isaiah Winters spilled through the gate. Kristen and Amanda squealed when they saw their menfolk. I tried to stay calm, lounging on my raft as I took in Isaiah. He was wearing cargo shorts again, this pair a dark gray, with a lime green V-neck that made his skin look incredibly dark. His light eyes popped, looking more green than blue, and he was using them to eye me in my bathing suit.

"Keep 'em in your head, Winters," I barked.

The boys all laughed, and Kristen and Amanda sent me warning looks. Oh, right. I was supposed to be nice. The problem was, I wasn't sure how. It wasn't that I wasn't a nice person. It was just that I'd never been nice to Isaiah before. I wasn't sure I knew how to interact with him without being brusque.

"What brings you guys to our neck of the woods?" Kristen asked, latching on to my and Amanda's rafts so we could all face the boys. Her movements were slow and methodical, and as I struggled to sit up a little on my own raft, I realized all three of us were that hazy kind of tipsy that came from drinking not a bunch at once, but steadily throughout the day.

"Wanted to see what you girls were up to," Duane explained. "I knew the two of you were staying here all weekend, we thought you might be partying."

"Or... maybe not," Robbie said, watching with a raised eyebrow as Amanda sloppily tried to paddle us to the edge of the pool.

"We've been recovering and rehabilitating," Amanda corrected, though she had to try 'rehabilitating' three times before she pronounced it correctly. (Darn those tricky I's and L's.)

"We can tell," Isaiah said. "We thought you might want to go down to the beach, get food at White Elephant and shoot some pool at Calico Jacks. Kaliyah can take her new driver's license for a test drive."

"We've been drinking all day," Kristen said, flinging her arms out to illustrate how long that day had been. "And you want to take us out and make us drink more?"  
The three boys exchanged looks, and then nodded. "Yup."

The three of us exchanged our own looks, and then shrugged.

"So long as I don't have to pay for anything, I'm down," I finally said.

"Par-ty! Par-ty! Par-ty!" Amanda chanted, still paddling to get to the edge of the pool.

Robbie finally took pity on her and crouched to offer his hand, pulling her bodily from the pool. Kristen gave a winning smile to Duane, and he gamely helped her out of the water.

"Need some help?" Isaiah knelt by the edge of the pool, extending a hand toward me.

"Hands to yourself!" I snapped. I slipped off the raft and into the water, keeping my hair free of the chlorinated water but letting it rinse the sweat off of me so I wouldn't need to shower. I was panicking, falling back on old habits because I was a little too out of it to know how to be nice to him.

Isaiah stood and stepped back. "Jeez, suit yourself. I was just trying to help."

"I think I can get out of the pool by myself," I grumbled, stepping out of the water and wrapping a towel around myself.

"I can see that," Isaiah said, looking irritated.

"I said to quit looking at me!" The panic was consummate now, making me more hostile than usual because I couldn't seem to find my footing.

"What's your problem, Kaliyah?" Isaiah asked, and now he almost looked mad.

"What's your problem?" I asked shrilly.

Finally noticing the Titanic sinking right next to them, Kristen and Amanda came to my rescue. They each grabbed an arm and pulled me toward my house.

"Sun drunk!" Kristen explained. "We'll just go change really quick and be ready to go!"

They pulled me inside and then turned to face me, both with hands on their hips.

"What's your deal?" Amanda demanded. "We said to be nice to him, not drive him away! It was like you were talking to Andrew or something!"

"I don't know how to be nice to him!" I wailed. "I've never done it before!"

They both rolled their eyes.

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!" Kristen instructed. "Just... treat him with your normal attitude if you can't be nice, instead of being twice as mean. At least he's used to that."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "I can do that. I think."

Amanda turned me around and pushed me into the house. "Now go put on something that will knock his socks off, and make him forget about your mouth."

I threw open my closet and looked through my collection of sundresses for one that would magically turn me into Kim Kardashian. Nothing materialized. I finally found one I'd ordered from a catalogue but rarely wore, due to the excessive amount of cleavage it showed. I debated it for a moment, and then thought, what the hey? If anything would make Isaiah forget my mouth, it would be my boobs hanging out. It was also a faded neon orange color, which matched my nail choice of the week.

I pulled on a pair of black wedge flip flops, freed my hair from the braid so it fell crinkly-curly down my back, and put on several coats of mascara. My cheeks were tinted pink after the day spent in the sun (and alcohol imbibing) and my skin was brown, brown, brown. At least my goal of becoming browner than Isaiah was getting accomplished. Things didn't look so great for the rest of my list. But then, maybe Kristen and Amanda were right. Maybe it was time to do away with the pact, and see if Isaiah and I could finally get along. 
NINE

We went out to eat at White Elephant, Isaiah and Robbie's place of work. There was a band playing, but I concentrated on stuffing my face. This killed two birds with one stone - I didn't have to talk much, and I also wanted to have a full stomach for the birthday shots I knew would be forthcoming.

I managed not to say anything stupid or mean during the meal, but was apparently too quiet, since Isaiah asked me if I was all right as we crossed the street and walked a block to Calico Jacks.

"I'm fine," I said shortly. Then I remembered I was supposed to be nice and added quickly, "Thanks for asking."

This was apparently too nice, because Isaiah looked at me with even more concern. Why was this so difficult?

The boys went up to a high top table right away, but I grabbed Amanda and Kristen and pulled them into the ladies room. Since it was a one toilet kind of deal, we were a little cramped, but this was an emergency. As the naked light bulb flickered above us, I faced my two friends.

"This is hard!" I wailed. "I'm freaking out!"

"I wouldn't worry, he probably doesn't like you anymore," Kristen said, checking her reflection in the mirror. "I wouldn't, after watching the way you attacked that shrimp basket. It was like watching an alligator snap up a Chihuahua or something."

I made a disgusted noise and flung open the door, stomping over to our table. I took a seat across from Isaiah and peered down at the shot in front of me.

"What's this?"

"Jolly Rancher," Duane offered. "But we have double for the birthday girl, something very special..."

Isaiah slammed a second shot glass down in front of me, full of murky black liquid. "Jaegerbomb," he said, with a great deal of satisfaction.

"Noooo!" I moaned. "I hate Jaeger!"

"It's a right of passage on your twenty-first," Robbie said.

Kristen and Amanda, wise older girls that they were, were nodding sagely in agreement.

"Fine," I grumbled, and double fisted, raising both my glasses.

"To Kaliyah!" Amanda squealed, and we all clinked glasses.

I couldn't hold back a whole-body shudder as the Jaeger went down. Ugh. Disgusting. Anybody who actually liked this crap was clearly missing some taste buds.

We did two more rounds, and then Robbie and Duane went to play pool, and Kristen and Amanda went to cheer them on.

I looked down and stirred my Jack and Coke, then took a sip of my water. I looked anywhere, really, but at Isaiah. "What are you majoring in, anyway?" I blurted suddenly, and looked up.

Isaiah blinked at me. "What?"

"We've been in college for three years now," I explained. "I don't even know what your major is."

"Why do you care?" he asked, not rudely, but curiously.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's weird that I've never even overheard people talk about it. Is it a big secret or something?"

"When you're a starting basketball player for FSU, people tend to talk about that, not your major," Isaiah pointed out.

"Fair enough. Don't tell me it's something lame, like art history or classical literature."

Isaiah pursed his lips. "Is that really what you think I'd study? Something easy just for the sake of being in college and playing ball?"

"Lots of athletes do," I said. "I mean, you were given a full ride, but not for your academics." I paused and regarded him for a long moment, suddenly full of questions, filled with wonder for things that I had never thought of before. "What's the deal with basketball, anyway? All I hear is how good you are, but you never talk about being drafted or whatever it's called. Don't you want to play for the NBA or something?"

Isaiah shrugged, actually looking uncomfortable. I realized we were having a legitimate conversation, and wanted to pat myself on the back. Hooray! I could do this!

"I love playing basketball," he finally said, speaking slowly. "But I don't know that I love it enough to deal with all that comes with being a professional player. Obviously I want the money and everything, and if I stepped up a little bit, worked harder at training, I would be a serious contender. But the... drama that comes with it. The press, the pressure, the invasion of privacy, and the girls hanging around."

"You already have a bunch of girls hanging around you," I pointed out dryly. "You've had them your whole life."

"Exactly. If I were a professional player, I would have a ton more. They're annoying enough as it is. If I got into the NBA, I wouldn't just have girls hanging around. There would be people after me for my money, for a quick lay, just to be associated with my name, to try and trap me into stuff. I guess I just hate all the dishonesty it would bring. It's why I mostly hang out with people we went to high school with. I feel more comfortable with them, because at least I know they're not hanging around me in case I become famous."

"It's the only reason I hang out with you," I told him, and he laughed. "And I fully plan on exposing every embarrassing moment I can think of to the media if you do go into the big leagues."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from my mortal enemy," Isaiah said, and then scratched his head, turning serious again. "I have to make a decision about it this summer. If I don't want it, I need to step back and let the others guys who do be on the forefront, because otherwise it's not fair to them. It's hard, because I'm so young. If I decide not to, I'll lose this chance forever. I'd hate to regret it the rest of my life. It sucks that athletes peak when they're so young. I think it's the reason so many of them get screwed up, just like movie stars. Only one percent of twenty-two year olds know how to responsibly handle being millionaires."

I studied him closely, something clicking. "So, what are you majoring in that could be a comparable alternative? Obviously it's something you like just as much as basketball, if you'd have to choose between the two."

Something inside me, some dam or blockage, had broken as Isaiah explained himself. It was a depth that I hadn't really expected from him, to be concerned about being mature enough to handle being famous and rich. I'd never have expected it from carefree, make-fun-of-everything Isaiah Winters. And I had, absently and from time to time, wondered why he hung around with so many people from high school when he could have been rubbing shoulders with richer, more socially prominent and influential people.

He shot me a surprised look, and then looked up at the ceiling. "It's, um..." he cleared his throat, "studio art."

If I hadn't been on a stool and slightly tipsy, I would have shot to my feet in surprise. "Studio art?"

"You know. Like, graphic design." Isaiah gave me a hard look. "Did you think I came to your store all the time just to see you? I've been using your coupons all summer so I can complete my set of Copic markers. Those things are eight bucks a pop."

I couldn't have been more surprised if he'd jabbed me with a cattle prod. I couldn't believe the mystery of why he'd been in and out of my store was that easily solved. I looked at his hands, resting on the table. They were big and tanned, worn and callused, nails trimmed short. They didn't look like artist's hands.

"Art?" I couldn't help but repeat. "How did I not know that you like to draw?"

He shrugged. "Again, when you can shoot three-pointers with your eyes closed, your other talents kind of fall to the wayside."

"Are you good?" I couldn't help but ask. Jeez, what I would have given at that moment to have a sketchbook of his to flip through.

Now he was haughty. "I'm in the top ten percent of my class, thanks. And that's while having a ridiculous schedule, thanks to basketball."

"How come you didn't go to Ringling or something? There are a ton of art colleges nearby."

"Ringling didn't offer me a full ride for playing basketball," Isaiah pointed out. "I chose the free education so I didn't have to start life a hundred-thousand in debt. Plus, I didn't know then that I would like it so much. I didn't want to give up basketball and then end up hating art. It worked better with FSU."

"Wow." I stared at him, shaking my head. "So, what would you want to do, then? Advertising, or something?"

He cleared his throat again, looking sheepish. Finally, he muttered, "You're going to think I'm just saying this cuz it's you."

I leaned forward, rabidly curious now. "What is it? Tell me right now."

"I..." he shook his head, then rolled his eyes and said in distinct tones, "I think it would be cool to get a job with a publishing house and design book covers."

"GET OUT!" I shouted.

Everyone in the bar turned to stare at us. Amanda and Kristen glared at me, thinking I was berating Isaiah. Far from it.

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed.

Isaiah couldn't hold back a laugh. "No. I like the idea of working one on one with people, and it would be something new every day. I think it's cool how you try and have the cover reflect the book. I don't know. I could do it freelance after a while too, which is what I would ultimately want."

"Woowwww," I breathed. "We actually have something in common." But it was so much more than that. I was done for. The struggle was over, I didn't have to think twice. I had just fallen in love with Isaiah Winters.

The thing was, I still wasn't confident he felt the same way. We were getting along, but it wasn't like he had tried to hold my hand or anything.

"I'm glad it only took us about seven years to find something," Isaiah said, lips tight as he fought a smile.

A bunch of hoots and screams made us turn around and look at the front door of the bar. A group of tourists, all college-aged people like us, walked into the bar. There were probably a dozen, and they were already well into their partying. I could tell they were tourists due to a) their uncharacteristic noise, b) their massively bad sunburns, and c) the fact that nearly all the boys were wearing Kent State University t-shirts, a big college in northern Ohio.

Isaiah raised an eyebrow at me as Kristen, Amanda, Robbie, and Duane rejoined us. "Friends of yours?" he asked, looking at both Kristen and me.

Kristen rolled her eyes as I made a face and said, "Ha-ha. Because we totally know every person in the state of Ohio. Right."

"Uh-oh, the girls are attacking the jukebox," Amanda said, watching as the girls went to said jukebox and the boys crowded the bar to order drinks. "I think we're about to get a full hour of Now That's What I Call Music, nineties editions."

Calico Jacks was our favorite bar for several reasons: they had live music most weekends, the shots were only four dollars a piece, they had a jukebox full of old nineties classics (our heydey, after all), and it was also the only bar in Englewood on Beach Road that was open past ten o'clock. Like I said, average age of seventy-five; they tended to be early to bed, early to rise. It was ten-thirty, and this crowd had clearly made the rounds of the other bars and restaurants. Soon, it would be crowded as people realized it was the only bar along the beach that was still open.

Duane went to the bar to get another round of shots and drinks, and sure enough, as he walked back he was strutting his stuff to Brooke Valentine, "Girlfight."

"Bottoms up," he said, and we all knocked back the pineapple upside down cakes.

"What's next?" Robbie asked. "I need more alcohol if we're going to do an eighth grade music flashback. Eighth grade formal was rough, let me tell you. Lizzie Dietrich dumped me for Aaron Miller at that dance. "

"Aweee," Amanda cooed, throwing her arms around Robbie. "Poor baby!"

I had to tear my gaze away from a couple in the group of tourists, who were standing in the dance floor space in front of the jukebox, grinding on each other in a very sexual nature. PDA much?

Isaiah stood to go to the bar. "I've got this one. What do you want, Kaliyah?"

"Anything but Jaeger," I said with a shudder.

He had to wait in line behind the new arrivals, but finally returned with shots full of a toffee-colored liquid.

"What's this?" Kristen asked, lifting the glass and swirling it around in front of her. She practically had to yell over the new song (Nelly, "Ride Wit Me") and the shouting of the other group.

We looked over at them and saw two boys racing to chug their beers. The amount of empty beer bottles and shot glasses already on their table was a little alarming.

"Buttery Nipple," Isaiah said. "It's really good, trust me."

I raised my glass first. If there was one thing about Isaiah I trusted, it was alcohol. We clinked, and down the shots went.

I licked my lips, savoring the toffee flavor. "Mmm, that was delicious!"

"I want another one!" Amanda pouted, and Robbie stood up with a sigh.

"This is fun," Kristen declared. "Why haven't we all gone out like this before?"

"Because Kaliyah and Isaiah hated each other and Amanda didn't know Robbie was in love with her," Duane explained, patting her gently on the head. "Remember?"

"Oh, right." Kristen thought for a moment, swaying gently on her stool. Then she smiled up at Duane. "I'm glad we were never that complicated!" She beamed at him as Robbie returned with more shots.

It was just as good the second time, and as we slammed our glasses down, the song flipped again. N'SYNC, "This I Promise You". Every girl in the building squealed, except me. I'd been a Backstreet Boys kind of girl, so sue me.

"Come onnnn, this was my favorite song of all time!" Amanda said, pulling Robbie off his stool.

"Wait for us!" Kristen called, and she and Duane followed them out to the dance floor.

I looked around carefully. With the exception of a lone college guy who'd apparently come on vacation stag, everyone was slow dancing. And of course, Isaiah and I were still sitting across from each other. Talk about awkward.

We spent a long minute looking anywhere but at each other, until Isaiah finally looked me in the eye. "Wanna dance?"

I tried to calm my screaming nerves. This was uncharted territory. I could feel the difference. Isaiah would never have asked me to dance before, just as I would never have said, "Fine. So long as you don't step on my feet."

A full-fledged, not-mocking smile spilled over Isaiah's face, a smile of pleasure. I just managed to catch a glimpse before he hid it beneath a more cocky grin. I followed him to the dance floor, stunned. He really did have a crush on me.

He turned to face me and we stood awkwardly for a long moment. Isaiah gave me a sardonic look. "This would be where you throw your arms around me like you'll never let go, Kaliyah."

I gave a snort to show how ridiculous I found this idea, but reached up to put my arms around his neck. This was the second time in as many days I had been pressed up against Isaiah. He was warm, oh so warm, and my body was about to explode with all the tingles I felt from being aligned with his body. It was the strangest and yet most wonderful thing I'd ever experienced. "Only U" by Ashanti came on, but everyone stayed latched together, two-stepping just a little faster to the new beat.

I had danced with guys before - slow danced, fast danced, closely danced and danced from across the room - but it had never felt like this before. With Isaiah, it was as though we'd already been dancing for hours. I was already heady with the sensation; of smelling him, feeling his arms around me, his breath on the top of my head and his warm hands on the small of my back. With Isaiah, dancing was different. It was... intense. It was the only word.

And I suddenly understood that if the two of us were ever together, really together, it would be Different, capital D. Explosive. I would never experience anything else like it. And just as suddenly, I wanted to know. I wanted to know if we had a chance, or if he would let it go as he had for the past seven years, miss this chance. I wasn't the type of girl to wait for the guy to make the first move. If I thought a guy was good looking, I tended to tell him. If I liked him, I tended to tell him. Why should Isaiah be any different?

I pulled my head away and looked up at him. Maybe it would be better to get the ball rolling in typical Kaliyah-Isaiah fashion. I couldn't go sappy because I'd suddenly realized I was in love with him, that I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted any other guy. I couldn't go squeamish now, or I would forever give him the upper hand in our relationship - if we ended up having one.

Oh, what the hell. Buttery Nipple, give me courage.

"I hear you have a crush on me, Winters," I said recklessly.

He froze. Every part of his body stiffened. For one sickening moment, I wondered if this had been a horrible decision. Then he growled, "Amanda."

Keith Urban, "You'll Think of Me".

We both looked across the floor and saw Amanda and Robbie staring at us. Isaiah must have had death in his eyes, because Amanda blanched and Robbie protectively swung her away from us.

"Hey, down here, Killer," I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

He swung a disgruntled look down at me. "It was a secret!"

"Which makes you stupid if you thought a girl wasn't going to spill it to her best friends," I said honestly. "The point of a secret is not to tell anyone."

"I guess," he grumbled. Then he eyed me, the annoyance fading away, leaving in its wake... confusion. Caution. Hope. "You don't look pissed. I always had this vision of you punching me or something if you ever found out."

I looked at the floor, then back up at him, letting a long pause fall as I tried to find the right words. So long, the song flipped again as I searched my brain. The Click Five, "Just the Girl".

"I'm... surprised," I finally admitted. "From time to time, people would say we'd eventually date. But it never happened, all through high school, and you genuinely irritated the crap out of me. I always thought you felt the same. I never saw it as flirting, at least, not until recently."

"I did feel the same, at first," Isaiah said, and shrugged. "But eventually, it changed. I mean, there were moments you really did make me mad and everything, but you were always just so interesting. I always thought so. From the day you walked into Lemon Bay. I mean, there were all these girls in short-shorts and tank tops, or dressed all in black, and you walk in with lime green nails and an Ohio State t-shirt. You were different, and always have been."

I stared at him, shocked. "You remember what I was wearing the first day of school? Seven years ago?"

He blushed. He actually blushed. "Maybe," he said, and cleared his throat. "Moving on."

I narrowed my eyes. "When?"

"When what?"

"When did you fall in love with me? I don't believe that it happened eventually. If you remember what I was wearing, then you remember when your feelings changed."

Isaiah pursed his lips, looking not embarrassed, but thoughtful. "Tenth grade homecoming," he finally said. "Right after Amanda dumped me for Jordan, and the whole Sarah Lawrence debacle. We were at the dance, and you called me, what was it? Oh yeah. A 'pinchloaf'." He gave me a look. "I still don't know what the hell that means."

I laughed. A full-throated, deep-belly, witch-cackle laugh. I'd forgotten about that. "I don't even know," I said. "My mom said that's what she used to call people in high school. We'd been talking about it before the dance, and it just kind of slipped out when we were yelling at each other." It was my turn to give him a look. "That was when you decided you didn't hate me?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. You were standing there all pissed off, and then you called me a pinchloaf, for Pete's sake, and you didn't even crack a smile. I just remember thinking, jeez, I love her."

A big, dumb smile broke over my face before I could stop it. I tried to hide it, but he saw it anyway, and smiled back. He lifted one hand and touched the corner of my mouth.

Bobby Valentino, "Slow Down".

"So, Simon, I have to ask, how come I didn't get punched?" Isaiah asked, and suddenly his voice was soft, intimate. A tone he had never used on me before, one that made me shiver a little, despite the heat of the crowded bar. "I would have thought you would hate the idea of an... us."

"I would have thought so too," I admitted, bluntly honest. "But I guess I'm warming to it. This summer has been... different. I mean, look at us. We're dancing. I'd say that's a step up from calling you a pinchloaf."

He gave a small huff of laughter, and bent closer. I was suddenly aware of our breathing, perfectly in rhythm. A thousand details bombarded me at once, having his face so close to me for the first time; how long his eyelashes were, the green tint to his eyes, his tan skin, his lips.

"So?" he whispered, and I had to fight both an urge to pull away and to pull closer. "What do you say? Should we waste seven years for nothing, or give this thing a try?"

My eyes couldn't move from his lips. I wanted to tell him the truth yet again, that I had some reservations, that we needed to discuss this rationally, but all I could think about was the possibility of Isaiah Winters kissing me. He came closer.

I would remember JoJo, "Baby It's You", forever. It was now Our Song, Isaiah's and mine. The soundtrack of our first kiss. He moved even closer. My eyelids fluttered, ready to close, ready to shut out the rest of the world in anticipation of this kiss. He hesitated, so close my nerve endings prickled, could feel him. I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed up a millimeter on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

And then someone jerked Isaiah away from me, and I was left clutching empty air. 
TEN

For a moment, I was completely off balance, eyes closed, arms still raised but empty. Then I opened my eyes just in time to see Andrew plow a fist into Isaiah's face.

Suffice to say, it really wasn't much of a fight. I mean, Andrew basically looks like a munchkin next to Isaiah, and physical fitness had never been a big interest of his. Isaiah had him down on the ground about 2.5 seconds after receiving the punch to the face (which he took like a champ, I might add).

It was over almost disappointingly fast. The bartender had tossed them outside in about a minute, before the Kent State people even got full into their cheering and chanting.

Laurie Newman, who must have walked in with Andrew, was screaming hysterically, and Kristen and Amanda gestured for me to go outside and handle the boys while they calmed Laurie down. Or killed her. I couldn't really tell right then.

I ran for the door and skidded to a halt outside, where Isaiah had Andrew pressed up against the side of the building, his toes barely touching the concrete.

"Isaiah, stop!" I commanded, pulling on one of his arms. I couldn't get him to budge, and I was distracted by how strong he must be. It was kind of sexy, actually, how he had practically lifted Andrew's feet off the ground. Who would have thought I'd go for the caveman type? Jeez.

"Let him go," I said firmly, more because I didn't want Isaiah to be arrested just when I had decided I actually liked him than over any concern for Andrew's life.

Isaiah finally let go, looking disgusted as he took a step back. "You're pathetic, man," he said, chest heaving with what had to be leftover adrenaline from the fight. He swiped at his face in an irritated jerk and paced a few steps, and I felt a flash of concern as I saw his swollen cheek.

"You were about to kiss her!" Andrew howled in response to Isaiah. "That's my girlfriend, in case you didn't notice!"

Isaiah and I exchanged an identically appalled, confused look.

"We broke up, Andrew," I said.

He whirled to face me. "How was I supposed to know that? You wouldn't talk to me, even when I called or saw you!"

I was flabbergasted. There was no other word. "Andrew, you cheated on me, and I threw a textbook at you! I thought it was pretty clear that I was done with you."

"And if you thought you and Kaliyah were still together, why did you go and hook up with Laurie?" Isaiah demanded, filled with righteous indignation on my behalf.

"Because Kaliyah wouldn't talk to me!" When Andrew said this, he acted like it was a perfectly reasonable explanation. I was filled with horror that I had actually dated this guy. Had my body been possessed by an alien for the past year? I sincerely hoped so.

"And if she was about to hook up with you, Winters, then the two of you aren't innocent either!" Andrew said triumphantly.

"I swear I'm gonna..." Isaiah started for Andrew once again, fists clenched.

I lunged for him and caught his arm, pulling with all my weight to hold him back. "Let's take a walk," I said hastily, pushing Isaiah toward the beach. Over my shoulder I called, "And Andrew? We're done! Over! Have fun with Laurie, and leave me alone."

*

Shock had worn all the alcohol from my system, leaving behind a tiredness that I refused to let claim me. Isaiah and I sat on the beach near the volleyball net, listening to the rush of the waves. I loved listening to the ocean at night, hearing everything out on the water but not being able to see any of it. To me, there was nothing more relaxing than waves hitting the beach, and I hoped it would have a calming effect on Isaiah.

We'd sat in silence for almost fifteen minutes, him with an ice cream sandwich from Circle K held against his eye (it's hard to find ice packs at midnight at the beach, as it turns out), me with my arms looped around my drawn up knees. The moment felt a little too raw, too full of emotion. I was still struggling to find my footing with this new twist in our relationship, still not sure how to act, what to say. When I couldn't take the silence anymore, I looked over at him, relying on my usual attitude, but with a slightly softened touch.

"Well, you've gotten into a bar fight. Do you feel manly?"

He gave me a glare, and I couldn't help but laugh as I felt familiar ground beneath my feet once more. As I moved over next to him, allowing my body to press up against his, the ground began to feel... not unsteady, but maybe still bumpy and a little treacherous.

"Let me see your eye," I cajoled, putting a hand over the one holding the ice cream.

Isaiah heaved a sigh and let me pull the sandwich away. I made a soft "oooh" of sympathy as I saw the swollen flesh and dark bruise.

"Do I look dangerous?" he asked.

"You look like a guy who got sucker punched in the face by his girlfriend's douchebag ex," I said honestly.

"Girlfriend?" he echoed, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me over so I was sitting on his lap. I squealed, but let him because it secretly pleased me. "Excuse me? Does this mean you actually want to be together and try this thing out?"

"Of course I want that," I admitted, and then reluctantly slid onto the sand beside him, because I felt we needed a little distance between us for the conversation we were about to have. "But I still have... reservations."

"Okaayy," Isaiah said slowly. "Reservations like what?"

I doodled in the sand next to me for a moment, then said, "I'm going to be completely honest here, Isaiah."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you."

I looked sharply over at him, but he was looking at me steadily, no hint of sarcasm. I continued on. "I worry we're like dynamite."

"Dynamite?"

"You know." I waved my hands. "We've had a seven-year long fuse that's been burning, and we're getting to the explosive part. I worry that we'll explode, as in, get together, but after the initial explosion, there won't be anything left when it's burned up."

"You mean, you think the thrill will be gone?" Isaiah asked, scratching his head.

"Yeah, sort of. I know you haven't been chasing me, per say, but I worry this is our peak. The thrill will be gone, for both of us. If we fall into being a happy couple, and get along all the time or whatever, our relationship would be dynamically different from the way it's always been."

"I see," he said slowly. "I would have thought you'd worry about the opposite thing. That we wouldn't be able to stop bickering and criticizing each other."

"I do," I said quickly. "I guess I just see the two extremes here. We're both such strong people, and we always have been. We always have to be the center of attention. I feel that could breed resentment after a while. It would be ugly."

"I think it would be... exciting," Isaiah said, still speaking in a slow, methodical way. "I think you're right to worry about both those extremes, but I also think you need to take a look at the middle ground. It would be a little of both. We would play off each other, Kaliyah. We would still bicker, still take shots at each other, but it just wouldn't be as mean spirited. And we would have good moments, moments like when we were dancing, earlier. But the really cool thing would be that our fighting would keep it interesting, Kaliyah. It would keep it new and exciting and different. It wouldn't be like what everyone else had, because we're so different from them but so like each other."

I was silent, thinking over what he had said. I had only seen our fighting as turning into chemistry, exploding all over the place and leaving a horrible mess one of us would have to clean up afterward. But if it was controlled, only allowed to explode once in a while, maybe he was right.

Isaiah lowered his ice pack and looked at me, reaching over to grab both of my hands in one of his big ones. "Kaliyah," he said, more serious than I had ever seen him before. "I agree that if we'd tried this in high school, it probably would have spiraled out of control and we would both have been burned by it. But we've known each other for a long time. We're both adults, more or less. I think we're old enough to make a mature decision about this, be mature about our relationship. What I know for sure is that I've been pining after you for seven years now, and I would really appreciate it if you could put me out of my misery, one way or another. Preferably the one that ends in you kissing me, because our first try at that was kind of interrupted, in case you didn't notice."

I laughed. Was this what it would be like? Moments of touching tenderness that somehow made me want to laugh and cry at the same time? Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe it would all end okay.

I shifted to my knees and placed my hands on Isaiah's shoulders, looking down into his face. It was the first time I had ever looked down at him, and the new angle was startling.

"Life would have been weird if you were short," I told him frankly.

He laughed, even as he put a hand up on the back of my head, weaving his fingers through the tangled hair at the nape of my neck. He pulled me closer to him, so close... he was almost there... Suddenly he pulled slightly away and looked both directions up and down the beach. Then he pulled me back to him.

"Coast is clear," he said with satisfaction.

I was laughing when he kissed me. Everything was perfect, the smoothness of his lips, his hands, on my neck and cupping the side of my face. I lifted my own arms and rested them on his shoulders, lacing my fingers through his short hair.

And there it was. The intensity of it, the explosion between us. My lips tingled, the hairs all over my body stood on end. The kiss was electric, on fire, until we finally both pulled away, panting.

Isaiah reached up and pushed some of my hair behind my ear, smiling at me. "Wow."

"I'll say," I agreed. I smoothed a finger over his dark cheek. "Worth waiting seven years for?"

"Humph." He bit his lip against a smile, running a hand up and down my arm. "That kiss was only worth one or two. I think you owe me a five-year kiss."

I looked into his eyes, loving what I saw there. He had never looked at me like this before, with tenderness, with affection and love.

"I love you, Isaiah," I whispered.

"Hey!" he said indignantly. "Technically, since Amanda told you, I said it first. Don't try and claim that you did!"

"Aw, our first argument!" I said in a syrupy sweet tone. "I'll let you win this one for the sake of your male pride." I waited a moment, then muttered, "Some boys think they're just all that after they've gotten into a bar fight."

This time, he was laughing as I kissed him. I ended up on his lap again, and at a later time, we both agreed that it was definitely a five-year kiss. We pulled away by degrees, and I rubbed the tip of my nose against his in an Eskimo kiss, and brought up what I knew would be a mood killer.

"I have a loose end to tie up before we can really do this," I told him.

Isaiah made a loud noise of disgust and pulled away, just as I'd known he would. "Are you kidding me? It's Andrew, isn't it?"

"Yes, and I'm not really looking forward to it either, so don't get all pissy on me," I grumbled. "We dated for a year, Isaiah. I owe him the chance to say his piece. Just because I got closure doesn't mean he did. And he's going to keep hounding me forever if I don't lay it on the line for him."

He closed his eyes and released a giant breath of air. His jaw was still tight, his fists clenched.

"Hey." I nudged him. "Mature enough to handle this relationship, right? So we're going to do this the right way. Some people don't understand that if they cheat, you're automatically broken up. So I'm going to go break up with Andrew - again, because a textbook and volleyball in the nuts didn't get the message across - and then you and I are going out on a date."

"A date?" Isaiah echoed.

"Yeah, a date. I'll get all dressed up and do my hair, and you'll wear long pants, not shorts, and we'll hold hands and all kinds of other gushy stuff, and you'll pay for dinner and then we'll go home and make out on the couch."

Isaiah pulled me across the sand so I was close to him again. "I like this idea. Did you come up with it all by yourself?"

"A genuine Simon Original," I said smugly.

"Who would have thought you had brains like that?" Isaiah asked, and my chance to retort back was lost as he kissed me. I didn't really mind. 
EPILOGUE

"But, Isaiah Winters?" Andrew whined. "You hate that guy!"

I sighed, wondering if this conversation would ever end, if Andrew would ever get it through his thick head.

"Yes, Isaiah. And no, I don't hate him. We spent some time together this summer and things changed."

"Time where you were cheating on me," Andrew snarled. "So you aren't innocent either."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Fine, whatever, I cheated on you, too. If that's what makes you sleep at night, then I admit it."

We were at the beach, sitting across from each other on a picnic table. I'd thought it was a neutral location, but I'd momentarily forgotten about the volleyball incident.

Andrew was silent for a long moment, and suddenly, his whole body slumped. "You didn't cheat on me, Kaliyah," he finally said. "I'm sorry. You're right. I was just saying that to make myself feel better." A woeful look came over his face. "I'm a cheater. I can't believe it. I never thought I would do that, especially to you, but there I was, doing it."

I could have been sarcastic. I could have made a biting comment about the innuendo of the 'doing it' comment, but I decided to take the high road. So I reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder--perhaps a little harder than was strictly necessary.

"Listen, Andrew. You're in college. You're about to graduate. The writing on the wall isn't permanent yet. I have faith that you can un-become a cheater."

"Will you help me?" he whined, and I wanted to cringe. I hoped this whining thing was a post-cheating side effect, because I didn't think I would have been able to stand it for a whole year.

"Sorry, but I don't think Isaiah would like you and me hanging out, and I wouldn't like it either," I said, but not unkindly. "Our time is done, Andrew. I'm sorry, but it's just done. Time to move on."

Andrew began to whine and even blubber a little bit, but I tuned him out as my cell phone beeped for a text message. I dove for it, wondering if it was Isaiah, confirming our date tonight. Pulling it out, I saw it was from my mom.

Hey sweetie! Dad and I are leaving on Wednesday, so we'll be home this weekend. Let us know where you want to go for dinner for your birthday. Are Kristen and Amanda coming? Miss you bunches! Xoxoxo

A second text came even as I read the first: By the way, all the grandkids were showing Dad and me this ridiculous video on the internet. It looked a lot like you and Andrew. I'm sure I saw Amanda in one. It wasn't, was it? What have you been doing while we're gone?

I sighed and put my phone away. I would call her later, while I was getting ready for my date. I wondered if I would ever be able to escape those stupid videos. Maybe I could list them on my resume.

"-forget me, will you, Kaliyah?" Andrew was asking earnestly as I looked back up at him. "I know I hurt you, but I always thought what we had was special. I hope you'll always remember it, the good parts."

"Of course I will, Andrew," I said, and stood up from the table to get the conversation to finally end. In reality, I planned on forgetting as soon as I possibly could. "Have a good rest of the summer."

He came to stand in front of me, looking solemn. "If you and Isaiah don't work out and we meet again, someday, maybe..." he trailed off, then shrugged. Maybe he saw in my eyes that the answer to this was a giant, emphatic no. "Goodbye, Kaliyah."

Andrew gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then walked to his car. If this had been a romance novel or a movie, it would have been a bittersweet parting. I probably would have put my hand on my cheek and cherished the moment for a second. But this was real life, and all I could do was wonder how I'd dated a guy with an ass that looked like that, and itch to wash my face.

Then I realized I was free, and that I was going on a date with Isaiah Winters in just four hours. I ran to my car, thinking that the end of the summer showed a lot more promise than the beginning. 

# A QUICK NOTE

You can find sneaks peaks, previews, and information here, including a bit of information about a version of TSIGUB told from Isaiah's point of view.... Stay tuned :]

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If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review.

You can also find my other titles here:

Guardian

Protector

Messenger (Coming November 1, 2014)

The Lightwood Legacy

The Things We Can't Change Part One: The Prologue

The Things We Can't Change Part Two: The Struggle

The Things We Can't Change Part Three: The Healing

The Things We Can't Change Part Four: The Love Story

The Things We Can't Change Part Five: The Epilogue

Keep reading for previews of Kassandra's

other books! 
Guardian

Kassandra Kush

INTRODUCTION

I was always the strong one. I had to be. I did what I thought was right, and I always protected those I loved. I never really wondered about the world outside my own. Never did I think I would find someone to help me fight my battles, or that I would have my faith challenged in the strangest possible way. I didn't know I would meet somebody extraordinary, and that my life would change, forever.

But it did.

CHAPTER ONE

On every side the wicked strut; the shameless are extolled by all.

Psalm 12:9

"And don't bother coming back! I've never seen such worthless children in all my life!"

I held tight to Colton's and Grace's hands as the front door slammed closed behind us. Grace was, as always, holding back her tears with noisy sniffles. Only a seven-year-old could manage this while still looking angelic. With her halo of golden curls and glassy blue eyes, Grace always put me to mind of a china doll, every feature flawless, as though carved from ivory. A single, perfectly round tear rolled down her cheek as she wiped at her eyes. I scooped her into my arms as Colton, already an old soul at ten years of age, followed me down the sidewalk.

"Don't worry," I told them, much more confidently than I felt. "You know Mom and Dad always cool off after a few hours to themselves." Yes, after a few hours of drinking together, they could never quite remember attempting to kick us out of the house. "We'll just have to pray very hard for them tonight, won't we?"

"It's a good thing we're on our way to youth group then, isn't it, Lyla?" Colton commented, catching on and aiding my cause.

I nodded, pleased. "Exactly. We'll just have to keep them in mind all night, isn't that right?"

Grace and Colton, almost twins with their honeyed hair and cornflower-blue eyes, nodded in solemn agreement. Comparing me to the two of them was just like comparing night and day. I was night, my hair a dark, glossy brown with identically brown colored eyes. My skin was olive colored year round, as opposed to their porcelain complexions, and my nose and cheeks were dusted faintly with darker freckles. Perhaps it was the fact that I looked so different that had cast me in the role of guardian from our wayward parents. That, and because I was so much older. At seventeen, Grace and Colton saw me as an adult, though at times like these, I felt far from one.

"There's going to be all kinds of food tonight, and cake and cookies," I said, to take their minds away from the trouble at home. "It's the kick-off for the youth group, after all. Are you excited to see all your friends?"

This set talkative Grace on a rampage about which classmates she hoped would be there, and which ones she didn't care to see. I reminded her gently that it wasn't nice to play favorites, and she should be nice to everyone. Colton began to put his two cents in about whom he wished would make an appearance, and the subject lasted us the whole mile and a half walk to our church, St. Rose of Lima. It was situated in downtown Columbus, our private Catholic school just across the parking lot.

I deposited Colton and Grace at the rectory, where the younger grades were having their party, and circled the church for the door to the church basement, nearly running into someone as I turned a corner. It wasn't dark quite yet, but I still didn't recognize the person as I stopped short and smiled at him. It was a man, tall and big, staring at the church before us.

"Hello!" I said cheerfully, sticking my hands into the pockets of the black cardigan I wore over my simple jeans and white t-shirt. "Are you here for the youth group kick-off?"

For a long moment, he didn't move, and I wondered if he hadn't heard me. Then his head slowly turned and he looked me in the eye. Though we stood about two pavement squares apart, I was captivated by this man's eyes. They were a deep, clear green, ringed with unnaturally long lashes. I couldn't say why, exactly, but his gaze struck me dumb and motionless. There was just so... much in his eyes. Though he appeared only a few years older than I, his eyes were very, very old. We stared at each other for a very long, pregnant moment, and then the man gave a small smile, and the spell was broken. I blinked several times, blinded by his straight white teeth.

"I don't think you want my sort in there," he said quietly. His voice rose up, deep and silky, surrounding me like the impending darkness of the night. He was dressed in well-worn dark blue jeans, with a black t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket. His short, wavy hair appeared to match in the dim light. Taking in all the black, I was put into mind of a thief. All of the sudden, his smile was menacing in my eyes, and my instincts warned me to run. Goose bumps covered my arms. I kept myself still, however, unwilling to appear rude.

"We're open to having anyone," I said, though my voice shook a little. "It's just a kick-off party, and we have plenty of food to go around."

The man gave a long, slow grin, and a chill went down my spine. Looking past his scarred leather jacket, the unkempt hair, and the too-long stubble on his jaw, he was extremely handsome, but appeared older than at first glance. Yes, he was definitely dangerous. I began to regret my decision to invite him to the party. What if he accepted?

He shook his head, still smiling, though I got the distinct impression he was inwardly laughing at me. "Thank you for your invitation, but I'll have to decline. I think you'll have more fun without me there."

"If you're sure," I said, and walked quickly away. Behind me, I heard him laughing out loud. I didn't care. Deep down, I was absolutely terrified. I only stopped jogging when I reached the safety of the church basement door, which was being held open by my best friend, Natalie.

"Who was that and where can I get one?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I swatted her arm. "Oh please!"

"I'm serious!" she insisted, abandoning her post at the door to our friend, Austin. "Don't you know that's the guy I was telling you about at school yesterday? He's been here all week, standing outside!"

I looked at her in surprise. "Really? That's him? What does he do out there?"

Natalie gave a sigh of impatience. "I told you this! He was here Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, and now again tonight! He just stands there, staring up at the church. I don't have the slightest clue what he's looking at."

I frowned, trying to think what could be so interesting about the exterior of the church. As far I knew, there were only the stained glass windows, which were various Biblical scenes of things like the Visitation, the Annunciation, and of course, depictions of the life of St. Rose of Lima.

"What did you say to him?" Natalie wanted to know. "I can't believe you actually talked to him! I thought he was homeless, but homeless or not, he's a hottie."

I rolled my eyes as I checked over the tables of food and drinks. People were beginning to arrive for the party, and I wanted to be sure everything was perfect, since Natalie's mind seemed to be elsewhere. "I just invited him to come join us for the kick-off, that's all."

"Get out!" Natalie cried. "What did he say?"

"He... said 'no, thank you'," I said, skimming over the details.

Natalie wasn't having it, however. She planted her hands on her hips, and I knew she meant business. "Lyla Marie Evans, give me the full story, stat!"

"Full story of what?" It was Austin, who had left the door-holding post in someone else's hands so he could join us.

"The full story of how Lyla invited that bum that's been hanging around outside to our kick-off party!"

I rolled my eyes again - Natalie was never one to keep things to herself - and Austin's head whipped around to look at me in alarm.

"All by yourself?" he asked, shocked. "Lyla, you shouldn't go around talking to strangers all alone! Who knows what he could have done to you?!"

"Really, guys?" I asked. "I was standing in full view of a church, and there were people all around! He was just standing there, so I thought I would invite him in. Who knows what he's going through?"

"Obviously nothing terrorizing enough to make him want to join us," Natalie observed seriously.

We all laughed and turned to other matters as the subject of the strange man was forgotten. Except by me. All evening, I tried to peer out of the small upper windows of the basement, wondering if he was still there. I was mystified; why would anyone stand outside of a church for a whole week, just staring? True, many churches were beautiful, but St. Rose of Lima certainly wasn't beautiful enough to stare at for a week straight. I sighed and tried to keep myself in the present.

"Pretty fun night, all in all, don't you think?"

I looked up at Austin, giving him a pleased smile. "It did go well. And since you stayed to help me clean up, I'll be able to get home at a decent hour. I'm glad Mrs. Mescher volunteered to drop Colton and Gracie off at home, they were dead on their feet before ten o'clock even came." Late enough, I hoped, that my parents had either left to find other amusement or passed out.

Austin made a show of checking his watch. "A whole half-hour to spare before curfew! Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Oh, that's okay. I can walk," I said quickly. I thought of what undoubtedly awaited me at home: my parents at best, gone, at worst, passed out on the couch or floor; a disaster in the kitchen for me to clean up. Hopefully, Colton and Grace safe and sound behind our locked bedroom door. I felt a trickle of unease, and wished after all that Mrs. Mescher hadn't dropped them off for me, that I had kept them at my side where I could be assured of their safety.

"Lyla," Austin said firmly. He put his hands on my shoulders and spoke slowly, as though I were dull. "It's almost midnight. You live in downtown Columbus. I'm driving you. End of discussion."

Though his authoritative manner chafed a little - I was the one used to calling all the shots - a small part of me was still relieved. It was late and dark.

"Okay, fine." I gave Austin a smile of defeat and grabbed my cardigan. We headed up the stairs and out of the church basement, Austin waiting patiently as I locked the door before getting into his car and setting off toward home. We discussed the party, laughing over the memories of the games everyone had played and silly things people had done.

"I can't wait to develop all the pictures," I said. "I'll have to make a display. I'm hoping to get an even bigger turn out at the spring dance. And maybe we can sell tickets this time to raise money for charity."

Austin chuckled. "Do you do anything besides school, sleep, and church?" He caught my hand over the console and gave it a friendly squeeze.

I grinned at him. "Not right now. Its senior year, I need to get scholarships. And church is important to me. You know that."

"All work and no play makes Lyla a dull girl," Austin commented.

I glanced over at him. "What do you mean? You think I'm boring?" I teased.

The car cruised to a stop as Austin looked over at me. "What I think is that you're hot," he said.

I began to get a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, but tried to shrug it off. I had known Austin nearly all my life, there was no reason to feel uncomfortable around him. Still, I tried to pull my hand gently out of Austin's and pushed out a laugh that sounded forced and too high pitched. "Hot? Excuse me? Austin, you know I think that term is degrading." The harder I tried to pull my hand away, the tighter Austin held it.

"I'm sorry, but it's true. I've always thought so." Somehow, his dim smile seemed to have transformed into a leer.

"I think it's time for me to go," I said firmly. The creepy crawlies were back, riding a roller coaster up and down my spine at full speed. "I'll see you Monday at school, okay?"  
I pushed the car door open and started to get out, but realized with a jolt that Austin hadn't stopped in front of my house. No, he had parked on a narrow side street that I didn't recognize in the gloom. An empty, deserted alley lined with brick buildings.

I wasn't sure what the most unwise course of action was: braving the foreboding street, or staying in the car with Austin and ordering that he take me home.

"Why didn't you take me to my house?" I demanded, half in, half out of the car, still unsure and wavering between decisions.

"I wanted a second to talk, Lyla," Austin said. "Get back in the car, come on."

I wasn't sure why this felt so much more uncomfortable than the awkward scene of longtime friend attempting to declare his feelings. Maybe it was the sneering smile, or the ominous glint that kept flashing in his eyes. Perhaps it was because all Austin's words and actions seemed incredibly foreign from the friend that I knew. Or maybe it was simply because he was trying to do it all in a dark alley in the middle of the night.

Whatever the reason, my sixth sense was screaming danger! at top volume, and I decided I was done and it was best to brave the street. "I'm going home," I said, as forcefully as I could. I hoped he didn't detect the traitorous tremble in my words. "I'll see you Monday, okay? Goodnight."

I swung out of the car and began to walk down the sidewalk at a quick clip, headed for the distant street sign that I knew would orient me. I swallowed back both annoyance and a cold thrill of fear when Austin's door slammed and he called my name. Footsteps sounded behind me, quick ones as he jogged to catch up.

"Lyla, don't act like this," he pleaded, reaching for my hand to slow me down.

I jerked my hand away with such force that my body lurched to the side. I didn't want him to touch me, not now, possibly not ever again. "Leave me alone, Austin," I said, more sharply than I'd ever spoken to anyone. "I need some space."

"Lyla, come on," he said again, and this time he managed to catch my hand, and no matter how I tugged, I couldn't slip away from him.

"Austin, let go of me!" I cried, unable to keep panic from lacing my words.

I backed away again, pulling my hand as hard as I could, but Austin advanced a step for every one that I retreated. Real panic began to pump through my veins.

"Austin, we've been friends since second grade, why are you acting like this?" With mounting horror, I realized I had done the worst possible thing; I'd backed up against a building, and there was nowhere left to go.

"Because I want you, Lyla," Austin whispered, and I quivered with fear all the way down to my toes."

"Austin, stop!" I cried, and tried to run. Instantly Austin's arms were around me, and he pushed me up against the wall. My head connected with the bricks with a solid crack and I saw stars.

Suddenly Austin's hands were everywhere on my body, groping my sides, my bottom, my neck, and finally my breasts. I screamed as loud as I could before Austin's mouth cut me off, meeting my own in a sloppy kiss. I slowly began to gather my wits once more, though my head was still ringing from its collision with the wall. I started to struggle wildly, tried to scream past Austin's lips, but had trouble gasping in enough air. My arms, which had been pushing against his chest, were grabbed and pressed tightly to my sides.

Austin finally lifted his mouth off of mine, panting. "You like it rough, huh? Won't go down without a fight. I see. I always knew you were feisty underneath that uniform of yours."

Before I could catch my breath and scream again, Austin moved in once more, trying to pry my lips open again, but I kept them tightly pressed together, still struggling to get away. Somehow, he captured both my arms in one hand and kept me pinned against the wall with his larger body. The other hand came up and gripped my jaw with crushing force. I whimpered in pain, knowing I would have bruises.

But there would be more if I didn't get away soon. There would be worse than bruises. I began to wriggle, testing this new hold he had on me. But I was small and slender, while Austin topped six feet and played rough sports all year long. I felt my strength begin to ebb away, felt dangerous thoughts of giving in seep into my panicked brain. Austin's hand finally left my aching jaw and began to roam around my body once more. I twisted away, panting with effort, knowing I should resist, knowing I couldn't stop fighting. I fought to keep my body from going limp. I was getting tired, so tired.

Suddenly, I was jerked forward as Austin's body was pulled violently away from my own. With the pressure of him pressing me against the wall gone so quickly, I fell to the ground in shock. It took me a moment to realize that he was gone, that I was free, and I looked up to see who had saved me.

A loud "Oomph" pulled my attention to the left of the alleyway. I gasped when I saw the shadow of Austin doubled over in pain, a stranger pummeling him in the belly. Austin whimpered and whined, and I could hear him pleading with the man to stop. As much as the proper, God-fearing part of me knew violence was wrong, I couldn't bring myself to halt the beating. I trembled from head to toe, and I wanted some of the pain I had suffered to be experienced by Austin's hands. Austin fell to his hands and knees, and the stranger kicked him savagely, and then with a swift uppercut to the jaw, Austin collapsed.

Or did he?

From my huddled position against the wall, I was sure I had just seen Austin fall flat, but the dark stranger was still fighting someone. Glancing at the ground, I confirmed that, indeed, Austin's blonde hair shone in the slight moonlight that entered the alley. Had there been a second person with Austin? Had someone else been following us, or heard the commotion? Or was my rescuer not really saving me at all, but fighting for the right to have his turn with me? A dozen thoughts raced through my head, all in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly the building I was backed up against shuddered violently, and I looked up to see my supposed rescuer jumping out from a large crevice in the brick. The huge crack was a good five feet up from the ground, as though someone had thrown him into the side of the building. I gaped, watching him run back to the third person who had taken over Austin's place in the fight. Now that I was watching, I saw that this fight was nothing like when Austin had stood passively and allowed himself to be beaten and defeated. These two moved with supernatural speed, shadows in the dim light, darting in for a kick or punch, the other moving so fast they nearly always missed. They performed a flawless dance, just missing each other each time. I could easily pick which shadow was the one who had beaten Austin; he was much taller and bulkier than his opponent, who seemed to have grown shorter and more hunched since his arrival.

But how could I trust my own eyes? Not when it seemed that these two were bouncing off the sides of buildings, jumping easily up onto dumpsters with one leap, and leaving cracks in solid brick structures without seeming to get harmed themselves. I felt hazy, as though I was drifting in and out of sleep. When another loud BOOM echoed through the night, it was like a wakeup call. Bits of brick and mortar dust sprinkled down onto my head, and then something fell before my feet with a sickening thud.

I screamed and attempted to back up closer to the wall, but the figure made no movement. In fact, it began to grow smaller and smaller, until it no longer bore any resemblance to a human being at all. I watched in horrified fascination as the little horned creature in front of me hissed and steamed, turning into a puddle and melting right down through the pavement. After just half a minute, there was no trace of anyone or anything on the ground before my feet. I gaped in wonder and fear. Then footsteps distracted me, and I saw my rescuer coming toward me. I gave a squeal of fright and scooted backward on my bottom again, only to hit the brick wall as I had before. Trapped.

"Shh, shh, Lyla, it's all right. You're safe." The man continued forward, slowly but steadily.

I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he knew my name, or the fact that I recognized his smoky, silky voice, but I relaxed fractionally. It was the man who had been standing outside the church before the youth party. He didn't seem half so threatening to me now, despite the fact he had just beaten Austin, and a mysterious something, into submission.

I squinted, trying to make sense of my muddled, hazy thoughts. Was it just my imagination, or was this stranger glowing around the edges? I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear the fuzziness from the edges of my vision. When I opened them once more, the man was crouched right in front of me, and I couldn't deny that he emanated a slight white light. A terrible fear that I was going blind, that somehow, Austin had affected my sight when he had slammed my head against the wall, ran through me, made my breath catch.

"Lyla? Did he hurt you? Does anything hurt very badly?"

His soft voice made me feel even sleepier, and a little less panicked. I struggled to make sense of what he was asking. When had my brain decided to shut off?

"Lyla!" This time his voice was a little sharper, more impatient. "Did he hurt you?"

"N-no," I finally said. "Just some buh-bruises, I think."

"Come on, let's get you home," he muttered, and before I could guess what he meant to do, I found myself swung upward by the strongest arms I ever could have imagined. Holding me seemed to be completely effortless, as though I were a feather pillow. Around me, the world seemed to blur as he started walking, going faster than I ever could have. The exhaustion I had been fighting off now seemed to overwhelm me, and I felt my eyes closing of their own accord. I wasn't strong enough to keep myself awake, and so, I let myself fall into the blissful darkness.

"Does this mean we don't have to go to church today?"

"No, silly, you know Lyla would never miss church. She has to get up in time!"

"But he said she needed to rest!"

I groaned and rolled over, only to be stopped mid-roll by the two small bodies whose talking was disturbing my sleep.

"See?" Colton said triumphantly. "She's alive and about to wake up!"

I cracked one eye open, meeting four smaller blue ones. "What are you two arguing about?" I asked in a sleep-hoarse voice.

Grace regarded me seriously. "It's ten forty-five and we were deciding if you wanted to go to church today or sleep."

"Ten forty-five?!" I yelped, tossing back the covers and jumping from my bed. I never slept past eight, never. Mass started at eleven thirty, and we had a twenty minute walk to boot! A sudden aching sensation in my arms and back stopped my mad dash, and I looked down, confused. Only when I saw the bruises around both my arms in the shape of a perfect handprint did the memories come flooding back; Austin driving me home, attacking me, and my rescuer saving me. I turned slowly to Grace and Colton. "Colton, who brought me home last night?" I asked carefully.

Colton's face screwed up. "Some man I'd never seen before. I opened the door 'cause I was getting a midnight snack and heard him knocking. Grace came too. I know we're not supposed to open the door to strangers, but he was carrying you, so I did it anyway. He was big, bigger than Dad. Grace almost started crying because she thought you were dead."

"Did not!" Grace hollered.

"Did too!" Colton shouted back.

"Hey, hey now!" I said, standing between them. "No fighting, please! Colton, just finish the story."

"The man told us you weren't dead, you were just really, really tired from helping at the party. We showed him where your bed was and he laid you down. We let him out the front door, and by the time we looked out the window to see him leave, he was already gone!"

"His name?" I asked urgently. "Did you ask him what his name was?"

Grace looked at me curiously. "Isn't he your friend? Don't you know his name already?"

I shook my head. "He... was a new friend. So new I don't even know his name."

"Gracie asked what his name was," Colton said, pleased with his all-knowingness. "You know how nosy she is. What was it, Gracie? I forgot."

"Rafael," Grace supplied helpfully. "He said his name was Rafael."
The Things We

Can't Change

Part One:

The Prologue

Kassandra Kush

PROLOGUE

EVANGELINE

Evie, I love you baby, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I love you so much, I'd die without you, Evie.

I scrub furiously at my hands, the words echoing through my mind, whirling round and round in a furious maelstrom, until his voice is all I can hear, the lies consuming me, filling my mind.

Ah, come on, Evie, you know you want to, I swear I'll make it good for you.

Memories assault me next, shapes and blurs more than actual images; a dark, looming presence right above me, countless times where my wrists are grabbed, stinging pain that seems to tear me apart from the inside out. It's all disgusting and repulsive, and I scrub harder at my hands. They're feeling raw now, bright pink under the hot water, but still I go on.

Don't do this, baby, I swear, I'll never do it again, I'll never lay a hand on you like that again. Please don't leave me, if you leave I'll kill myself, I can't live without you, I swear I can't.

"GET OFF!" I scream, water flying everywhere as I violently pull my hands out of the water stream and shake them, rub them together fast and hard. The towel wrapped around me starts to loosen, and I grab at it, tears stinging my eyes. My hands make a fist in it and my feet slip on the slick bathroom floor. I stumble, grab the edge of the sink and fall in a sort of slow tumble, hitting the floor with my right hip. I huddle there, pull the towel more securely around me and choke on my tears.

I stare at my legs, and even though the blood is gone, I can still see it. A river down my inner thigh, streaked on my hands from trying to stop it, from trying to clean it. I had cleaned it, but in my mind's eye, it's still there, still so glaringly visible. There's no more anywhere on my fresh, pink-from-scrubbing body, but I can still feel it, still somehow see exactly where it was.

It has seeped into my pores, down in the layers of my skin. It's been absorbed, deep down, back into my bloodstream. But now it's poisoned blood, black and dark, floating along back toward my heart, where it will stay for the rest of my life, forever haunting me.

I'm still clean and normal on the outside, but my inside is forever changed.

CHAPTER ONE

EZEKIEL

Acting the part of the badass would be a lot easier if I had something more impressive than the side of a high school to lean against. A motorcycle, or maybe a classic Camaro. As it is, those things are so far out of the realm of my life, I don't even dream about them. Not really, at least. Instead, to keep up my image, I take one last drag on my cigarette and then toss it to the ground, grinding it beneath the heel of my battered steel-toed boots.

I look up toward the school building and instantly meet eyes with Evangeline Parker. For a long moment, we stare each other down, polar opposites, the queen bee of Grandview Heights High School literally looking down her nose at the poorest, lowliest person on the social ladder. Her eyes are a startling violet color, and my fingers get the old itch. I banish it instantly. I don't do that anymore.

Instead, I sneer at Evie, and she tips her nose up even further at me. Before I can make any kind of move, to maybe scare her a little just because it's early and I have nothing better to do, her hero appears. Anthony Stull, Evie's boyfriend of three years, swoops in, every bit her equal; it's fate, pre-destined, written in the stars that they should end up together. Tony and Evie are probably the two richest kids at school. Tony is the offspring of some hotshot lawyers and already has his name written on the Harvard acceptance list, while Evie's father owns several pediatric clinics.

I can already see exactly how their lives will unfold: they'll go to college, spend ten years getting degrees in medicine and law, only to graduate, have their parents die, and live off the lay of the land, dabbling in their parents' businesses but not actually working. Tony will have some raging affairs with hookers and prostitutes, while Evie will pretend not to know that 'staying late at the office' really means he's banging some chick. She'll slowly fade, put all her focus on her children. Eventually, they may divorce, or she may cut off his dick. I'm not sure about that part, but I can see it all, and it's yawn-inducingly predictable.

Tony is Evie's knight in shining armor, rushing in to carry her off in his silver BMW any time she cries for help. He walks through school with his arm over her shoulders, carries her books, the smug smile on his face saying he knows he has the hottest girl in school and daring anyone to contest it. Sometimes I wonder, when I find myself thinking about life a little too deeply, whether he actually likes Evie, or just the status that they have together.

This time, when he swoops in and throws an arm around Evie and tries to kiss her on her cheek, I notice how her shoulders stiffen and she almost pulls away, but at the last minute she restrains herself and allows Tony to lay a wet one on her cheek. He begins to whisper in her ear, and I'm the only one who can see Evie's face. It's drawn tight, her lips pinched together and her whole body still stiff, as if she can't stand to have Tony so close to her. I even see her fingers, clutching the strap of her designer purse, trembling, just a little bit.

Interesting.

Finally, Tony manages to convince Evie to come away with him and they turn toward the school, but not before they both glance back at me, matching expressions of repulsion on their faces. I don't give a crap. I'd rather die than try to get their approval, and if my appearance keeps everyone at a distance, all the better.

I wish Tony luck holding onto Evie, because if there is one thing I already know well about life, it's that everything you care about always gets taken from you. And that's that.

"Yo, Quain!"

I jerk at the sound of my last name and look around until I see Dominic, my closest friend since the third grade, walking toward me. He takes his time, probably hampered by the fact that his black jeans keep falling down over his butt and he has to keep one hand on his belt, looking like he's walking with a mean swag, but really to keep the pants up in the front. His skin is a dark roast compared to my more coffee-with-cream tone, and he looks the part, with a Black Pyramid hat over his buzzed head, hiding the intricate designs shaved into his hair. He has on a baggy white t-shirt, and the only thing ruining his look is the backpack on his shoulders, loaded with books.

I give him the nod and fall into step beside him, my own battered, literally-light-from-over-washing jeans belted loosely, but tightly enough so they don't fall down over the curve of my ass. I have on a OSU hoodie, gray and faded. My boots make a loud thumps on the sidewalk, competing for noise against the occasional squeak from Dominic's much newer Jordans.

We attract surreptitious looks as we walk down the hallway, and while I know a lot of the disdainful ones are because of our clothes, there are quite a few girls who stare more openly at us as we walk by. Still, no one confronts us, because we look the part. I'm the only person who knows the black tear tattooed on Dominic's left cheek is the result of a drunken dare two years ago, not a summer spent in juvie (he was actually at his grandma's, helping restore her house). My own tattoos are mostly hidden by my long sleeves, but my Chris Brown/Rihanna style stars trailing up my neck, into my hairline and around to my right ear are visible, as are both the large diamond studs in my ears.

It always amazes me, what old, baggy clothes, some tattoos, and a darker skin color can cause people to think about you. I've never cared. All I want is to keep people at a distance, and so letting them judge me and write me off is exactly what I want.

At the end of the hallway is our usual crowd, and Cameron Fuller is heading the group, like always. Cameron has done time in juvie, and he's a mean sonofabitch, but he doesn't scare me. He's knows that and it's always caused a little bit of tension between the two of us, but I have no desire to lead his little pack of misfits and puppy dogs. I have a crowd to stand with in the morning and look tough, and that's all I want.

"Quain, Alverson." Cameron greets us as we walk up, and Dominic and I both nod at him.

I resume my stance standing against the wall of the school, one foot propped up and resting against the interior bricks. I'm hoping it can be a peaceful morning and everyone will leave everyone else alone, but clearly that's not meant to be.

"You joining us after school today, Ezekiel?" Cameron asks, and I want to roll my eyes. How much more juvenile can you get, trying to humiliate someone by calling them by their full name?

"For what?" I ask, keeping my stance light and easy against the wall.

Something white and black flies through the air, making metallic clicking noises as it turns over and over, and I catch it reflexively. I know what it is even before I look down. A can of spray paint.

"Bridge on Riverside. Your marks are fading, I thought we could retouch it later tonight," Cameron says. "Celebrate having only a few months left before summer break."

I toss the can back to Cameron. "Can't. I have plans."

He raises his eyes. "Plans without us? Found someone more fun to play with?"

Dominic senses the rising tension between the two of us and lets out a big snort of laughter. "If you call babysitting his kid sister fun, then yeah, I would say so."

Everyone lets out a loud chorus of laughter at the idea of Zeke Quain babysitting, and even though I hate being laughed at, I'm glad Dominic was the one to say it. I'm not able to produce that sarcastic tone where Cindy is concerned.

"You get off kid duty early, you know where to find us," Cameron says, pointing at me with his finger. "We'll keep a cold one ready for you."

I nod that I understand, though I hate being pointed at like a child. Everything about Cameron rubs me the wrong way, but I put up with it because I don't care enough to start a fight. Just as I'm thinking no way in hell will I meet up with them tonight, no matter how early Cindy is done at practice, the warning bell rings. We all groan at the thought of class and begin to separate ways. Dominic and I head for the closest flight of stairs.

As we walk, we pass Evie Parker and Tony Stull again, and my eyes can't help but be drawn to Evie's. My fingers itch to pick up a pencil every time I see her, she has such a classic face; full red lips, Marilyn Monroe beauty mark on her left cheek, high cheekbones, and those eyes, feline with the unique violet color. I squash the urge, just as Evie looks my way and our eyes meet.

I'm struck by how empty they look. Normally, Evangeline Parker looks like she doesn't have a care in the world, or she's frowning down her nose at me. Right now, though, she looks as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and she doesn't have a hope left.

Something stirs inside me; sympathy? Pity? I squash it as ruthlessly as I push down the urge to draw, and just because she's made me feel emotion, emotion of any kind, I wink and smile at her, and Tony sees. Both of them look horrified, and the last I see of Evie right then is Tony's arm tightening around her, keeping her safe as he rushes her away down the hall, away from the ugliness of the world that consists of people like me.

Part One Free on all major retailers! 
PROLOGUE

I always knew there was something special about Thomas Lightwood, from the first moment that I met him. Not that it was obvious to the casual eye. In fact, on the surface, Tom and I appeared to be a lot alike, gender notwithstanding. We both attended Pennington Bay Academy, and had for the past eight years, since the third grade. Tom and I were constantly battling each other for first and second place academically in our class. We both had care takers, not active parents. We were both kind of outcasts at our school.

I say 'kind of' for Tom's sake. That was where the similarities ended. He had the potential to be popular, while I didn't particularly care for the spoiled, indulged students that mainly populated Pennington. I had my select friends, my well-earned grades, and with a sketchpad in my hand and sarcasm pouring from my mouth, I was content. Tom was an outcast by choice.

'By choice' meant that all the girls--including me--liked him, and why not? He was from Georgia, and he was that good-old-farm-boy kind of handsome: shining golden hair he kept a trifle long, so you couldn't help but notice the perfect waves it fell into. He was nearly six-foot-two and well chiseled, with angel-blue eyes, kind eyes. Put him in the school uniform, khakis and a white button down shirt with a tie and, well, what kind of girl can't be affected by that?

It was mainly the boys who had a problem with Tom. He was more unpopular with them for the above mentioned reasons, but also because he played sports with his brother at Pennington until the eighth grade. At one point, Jonathan and Thomas Lightwood had been the golden boys of PBA (Tom and Jon, can you imagine?). They excelled at everything in every way, and it wasn't possible to not like the Lightwood twins, physically and emotionally impossible. Then eighth grade had dawned and Jon hadn't come back to Pennington.

Tom had, but he had been different. Quieter, without the outspoken, outgoing personality he'd once possessed. No one knew why he had changed, or why Jon hadn't come back, only that he now attended a different boarding school. Tom hadn't participated in sports that year, or any of the following years. Pennington Bay now held the title for the worst teams in our division, especially in football and basketball, where the Lightwood twins had once dominated. Boys, most boys, the jocks, at least, blamed Tom for driving Jon away, and for not helping salvage the school's name himself, though the truth of Jon's absence had never been revealed.

Tom and I had a good relationship. We playfully fought each other and made jokes about the loser playing pranks on the valedictorian when we finally graduated. But Tom was good looking and kept to himself, and we were never what one could call good friends. Despite how similar we were, we were never truly alike.

I was ordinary. Tom Lightwood was not.

And this is our story.

CHAPTER ONE

The Choice That Changed Everything

Pennington Bay Academy worked like any other elite boarding school; students were all wealthy and jaded, drinking, smoking, and old (though definitely not mature) before their time. We were set to rigorous studies, and it was Ivy League or bust for all of us. PBA was set far in the countryside of northern Virginia, a one mile walk outside of the small, quaint town of Pennington; not close enough for us to comfortably sneak out to at night, but close enough for us to enjoy our weekends off campus.

There were two boys' dormitories and two for the girls, with the entire school between us all, again to discourage late-night excursions, though this, of course, didn't discourage most of us in the slightest. There were always three of us to a room, and this year I was across the hall from my two best friends, and stuck with two girls to whom I had never spoken.

In some cruel twist of fate, I, the brain, had been stuck in a room with Jessamine Rose Braxton, the schools biggest diva, glamour queen, and socialite (AKA, the richest girl at PBA), and Vivienne Hayes, our female all-star sports enthusiast, who had been single handedly upholding our school's female sports of volleyball and basketball. Throw in the smartest girl in our class, me, and I was pretty sure there were hidden cameras in our room so people could study how stereotypes worked.

Enough about Pennington. It's merely a place, where most of this happened, yes, but this story is about the people. The real beginning of this story is the second Sunday of November. We were all holding on to the edge of our seats, straining to make it through twenty-dd days until Thanksgiving break. I was in the massive old fashioned library with my two good friends, whining about my roommates, as I did incessantly these days.

Allegra and Francesca, or Chessie, made soothing noises of disappointment as we packed up our books and prepared to leave since lights-out was in an hour.

"Seriously, Vivienne does like, this whole work-out routine right before bed." I continued my litany of complaints as we shoved over-sized textbooks into our leather messenger bags and gathered up stray pencils and pens. "With jumping jacks and wall sits and like, two hundred crunches. It's insane!"

"Okay, that is odd," Allegra, ever the devil's advocate, admitted, but was quick to follow it with, "but clearly, she's district champ and MVP and holds almost every state record for a reason. You need discipline for that, and probably a lot of training. A nightly workout is like, like," she cast around for an example, and then waved an arm to encompass the library, "like us in here studying every night. It's the way she 'studies' so she can be good at what she does."

It was such a good comparison that I was struck silent for a moment, unable to come up with any more criticisms of Vivienne. That still, however, left Jessamine open for discussion.

"What about Jessamine?" I demanded. "She's got this elaborate beauty routine she does every night. She actually does a face mask, and she paints her nails every two days! How do you even have time for that?"

Chessie, who was the beauty of our group, with long, raven hair and dark, café-au-lait skin that made her just as exotic as her name, stood from the table and slung her bag across her shoulder. "Really, Lo, so some girls find their looks really important. That's not a crime. Besides, Jessamine's mom is a fashion designer and her dad is a famous actor, she kind of has a reputation to keep up. I bet she's under a lot of pressure from her parents."

I glared at my two friends as we strolled out from the dim, Gothic style library, through the marble entrance hall and out onto the grounds. "I can't believe both of you are leaving me for a whole semester," I grumbled. "How am I supposed to survive this spring while both of you are studying abroad? My only alternatives for friendship are a beauty pageant contestant and the next Kerry Walsh-Jennings."

"If you even think about trying to replace us while we're gone," Allegra began severely, and Chessie wagged her finger at me.

I laughed so they knew the idea was ridiculous, winding a scarf around my neck as the chilly air hit me and tried to worm its way through my red North Face jacket and touch my skin. "For real, though. I'm going to be all alone. I'll never be friends with those girls."

"It is a weird roommate situation," Chessie allowed. "And I bet it is really hard for the three of you to find some common ground. You have totally different interests, and even your backgrounds are pretty different. Just keep being nice and friendly, and I'm sure the ice will eventually break. We've only been at school for two months. Give it some time."

"I guess," I said, not inclined to be very optimistic. It was easy for Chessie and Allegra to be so cool and collected about the situation; they still roomed together, and even though it was just across the hall, at times it felt like they were miles away.

I allowed their talk to drift to other topics for the five minute walk from mid-campus to our dormitory, such as Chessie's audition for the winter musical later this week, our French test on Tuesday, and Allegra's bid for captain of the debate team. It wasn't until we were ascending the stone steps and began digging in our bags for our passkeys, since the dormitory was locked to everyone but students and faculty after dinner, that I realized I had forgotten to check out a book at the library I needed for class the next day.

I gave a heavy sigh. "Guys, I forgot to get that book for English. I'm gonna run back and get it tonight so I don't have to get up early. I'll be right back."

They both turned, and Allegra frowned in worry.

"Do you want us to come?" she asked. "It's dark out."

"No, that's okay," I said, waving a hand at them. "I know you both still have calculus homework, and I already finished mine. Go on in and finish, it'll only take a minute."

I turned and trudged back across the lawns, sticking my hands into the pockets of my fleece jacket. It would soon be too cold for just sweaters and jackets, and I would have to dig out my coat and gloves from the depths of my closet, where I had stuck them optimistically at the beginning of the school year.

I shuddered at the thought and continued onward, toward the Edward Church library. It had been built by my great-great-grandfather in the late 1800's. The Churches had attended Pennington for almost two hundred years, since its conception in 1866. Grandpa Edward had donated the money for the new library after the old one had burned down. I was one of the legendary Churches, Philomena to most, Lo to those who knew me well, and Phil to those that didn't know me at all, but thought they did.

I always got an eerie, prickly feeling, walking into the library where so many of my ancestors had also strolled, but it also gave me a feeling of instant familiarity, and easy belonging. The place was named after me, why shouldn't I feel at home here?

I scurried to the classics section and got a copy of The Scarlett Pimpernel, since the one I had ordered hadn't arrived yet, and was on my way with thirty minutes still to spare before evening roll call at nine o'clock.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the library and prepared once again to face the unwelcome cold. As I was about to descend the steps for the second time, a sudden movement to my left caught my eye, and I jumped.

I whirled in a panic, startled, just in time to catch someone topple over the stair railing and into the bushes lining the library. I was frozen in shock for a moment, and then with a gasp of surprise, I was off down the steps, running around the railing to see who had fallen. For a moment, I was disoriented in the dim light that only came from the library porch far above us, unable to see anything. Then the bushes next to me rustled, and someone crawled out from the foliage.

They were on all fours, but hunched over and panting, as though in great pain. As I watched, their arms trembled violently, and one gave out. They fell to the ground with a cry of pain, and then grunted as they tried to rise up from the ground once more. Light glinted off golden hair, and I had a flash of recognition, followed by immediate concern.

"Tom!" I cried, and fell to my knees to try and help him.

"Don't touch me!" he barked. His voice was low and guttural, foreign and harsh. It was so completely not Tom that I drew back. I was startled by the vehemence and pain that I heard.

"Tom, what's wrong?" I asked. My hands fluttered and jerked nervously as I resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. "We need to get you to the nurse, or, or call an ambulance!"

I began to grope in my bag for my cell phone, as before me, Tom began to writhe in pain. Finally, his arms shook a final time and he collapsed to the ground for good. He rolled to his side, and I finally was able to see his face. It was twisted up in agony, his eyes tightly clenched shut and his face slick with sweat.

His arms were now clenched tightly around his middle, as though he had terrible stomach pains. My numb fingers clumsily dropped my phone and I leaned forward again, forgetting myself.

"Tom!" I said, anguished and panicked and scared all at the same time.

"No!" It was a growl, and once again I pulled away.

Tom gave a loud moan, and his legs jackknifed upward, his whole body clenched into a ball, clearly in agonizing pain.

"No... ambulance," he panted. "Who are you?"

I suddenly realized he didn't recognize me, that it was too dark and he was in too much pain to recognize my voice.

"It's me, Lo," I said, in as soothing a voice as I could manage, though it still shook plenty. "It's Philomena. We need to get you to a hospital, Tom!"

His spasm of pain seemed to ease slightly, and his legs relaxed a little and came away from his chest. His eyelids opened, revealing his light eyes, brilliantly shining with tears of pain.

"No hospital," he said, and squinted at me. "Philomena?"

"Yes, it's me," I said, blinking rapidly against tears of fear and worry.

"Good," Tom pushed out, every word costing him, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. "I was looking for you."

And with one last massive effort, Tom lifted his arm and grabbed my right hand. There was a massive explosion of white light that blinded me and threw me onto my back. And then there was darkness.
