Reclaimed Hearts: A second chance, forced proximity romance

Crashing into Fate

Crashing my bike into the most popular guy in Covington Cove wasn’t on my bucket list this summer.

To be honest, I didn’t actually have a bucket list for the summer. But if I did, it would include things like beach days, a road trip to the mainland amusement park, and to learn how to skateboard-luge down the massive hill outside the Covington Cove Country Club.

It definitely wouldn’t include laying flat on my back with rocks digging into my hip, surrounded by Baysiders.

That was just my luck, though. Multitasking was not my strong suit and attempting to look at my phone while dodging curbs, cars, and crowds wasn’t the smartest idea. The only reason I had was because of the name that flashed on the screen—Mrs. Bennett. My ex-boyfriend’s mother.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and found an excessive number of people gazing down at me. Why had they all been in the bike lane, anyway? The bike lane was for bikers, not for standers.

“Are you okay?” A guy with bright, emerald green eyes and perfectly styled wavy blonde hair stood over me, a concerned look on his otherwise perfect face.

I closed my eyes and groaned, covering my face with my hands. This was just what I needed—crashing into Baysider teens. I took a second to assess my body, and found nothing broken or even sprained. My knees and wrists stung, though, and a quick glance showed some gnarly scrapes and spots that would eventually become gross bruises.

“Is she, like, hurt?”

“You realize she crashed into me, right?” There was exasperation in the tone, making me cringe once again. The exasperated guy with the amazing hair and dazzling eyes?

Declan Storms.

The most popular guy at Covington Cove High. The one all the girls batted their eyelashes at, gave the little fake giggles to, and wanted to be asked out by.

I wasn’t immune to his charm, and definitely not to his looks. Standing at an inch over six feet, as he liked to remind everyone, with sandy blonde hair that always looked like it was messy on purpose, and all the right muscles in all the right places, Declan Storms was hot and he knew it.

He was a walking cliche; all the guys wanted to be him and all the girls wanted to get with him. He was also a literal model for the island’s tourism brochures.

There was only one issue with this whole situation: Baysiders didn’t hang out with Gennies like me.

Covington Cove Island was split into three distinct groups:

The nouveau-riche kids that lived on Bayside Boulevard were the Baysiders.

The old, generational wealthy families lived on Covington Crescent Boulevard, aka the Crescent kids.

Working class families were the locals, like me and my friends. We grew up in the middle of the island, where the first street had been named after the founder of the island’s wife, Genevieve Covington. Hence, Gennies.

Someone way back when wasn’t all that creative in naming cliquey groups.

The three groups didn’t mix all that often, which was why I was hesitant right now.

As Declan extended a hand and lifted me to my feet, I made a mental list of all the people I would have rather crashed into other than Declan Storms. The list included my ex-best friend, Grace; Holland St. Smither, who I vomited on two years ago, on accident, but still never forgotten; Isla Covington, the snobbiest of the Crescent Kids; and preferably even Zane Hunter, the world’s biggest teen movie actor heartthrob.

“Thanks,” I whispered, brushing gravel off of my legs and shorts, wincing as I ran over the scrapes on both knees, already pooling with tiny beads of blood. It would definitely start dripping before I got to work to clean it up and put a bandage on it. Gross.

I caught Declan’s eye just as he finished giving me a once over. Whether it was to check me out or see if I had any actual injuries, I wasn’t sure. Maybe a mixture of both.

He turned and took a step away, nodding toward his friend. “This one?”

His friend glanced over at me with a cool, casual look on his face. His name was Bryan Smith, but everyone called him Smitty.

“That one, huh? Sure.”

I had no idea what they were going on about, but I didn’t have time to dissect what that meant. A second later, someone else’s hands were running through my hair, shaking out my curls and getting caught in a few knots.

I flinched and jumped to the side.

A giggle came from a girl behind me, followed by, “Sorry. There was some junk in your hair. It’s gorgeous, by the way. Where do you get your highlights done?”

Words escaped me. I had never had so many Baysiders speak to me so nicely. Granted, I never had a lot of experience mingling with them, period.

Except for Reid. But as my ex-boyfriend, he didn’t count.

“Um, I… I… I don’t?” I spat out. My dirty blonde bordering light brown curls had a ton of natural highlights, usually made brighter by the summer sun. But seeing as it was barely the middle of June, they hadn’t gotten bleached yet.

Right after I answered her, a pair of hands tightened on my waist. I spun, finding myself chest to chest with Declan Storms.

Somehow, while jumping away from the girl, I launched myself straight into his arms.

He stared at me, his emerald green eyes practically glowing in the mid-morning sun.

“Hey there,” he whispered. “It’s Marlowe, right?”

Declan wasn’t just a breath of fresh air; he was an entire ocean breeze on a cool, crisp, early morning sunrise.

And he knew my name.

“Hi,” I whispered back, unable to break eye contact with him. Neither of us blinked, and I was sure my lungs forgot how to function.

He held up his hand, producing my phone. “Your phone fell. I didn’t mean to pry, but a message came through and I saw it. It’s your birthday?”

My face flushed. The jingles of notifications were why I had reached for my phone in the first place. Then, the call from Mrs. Bennett threw me for a loop. Instead of pulling over and safely extracting the phone, I had stupidly decided I could ride with no hands for a second.

Which was the same second Declan Storms stepped off the curb right in front of me and we collided. His friends had already been in the street, though, so it was sort of on me for not avoiding them all.

I made a mental note to myself: If you can’t text and drive, you shouldn’t text and bike. It seemed like a no-brainer, but honestly, sometimes it was the simplest things that I needed to learn the hard way.

“A birthday girl, huh?” Declan said again in a low voice, as if only talking to me. Which, really, he was.

I bit my bottom lip as my neck and face deepened into a crimson color. Everything I could think to say sounded dumb, so I didn’t say anything at all.

He reached up and pulled on one of my curls that must have escaped my half-up bun when I fell. He released it, letting it bounce back and settle over my face. That curl was one of my favorites—the sun bleached it the brightest and I loved it.

What I didn’t love? This situation I had somehow gotten myself into. I was completely frozen in place. Declan was still holding my waist with one hand, and the other brushed my cheek as he let go of the curl.

In short—Declan Storms was flirting. And I was letting him.

“Well, happy birthday,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “Doing anything special?”

Words. I needed words. Birthday. Special. Plans. What?

Reality came slamming back as my heart sank. My birthday was the reason for all the notifications. Though I knew they were only about the freebies I could get at various retailers today, I had hoped it was something from Grandmum. Or maybe Mom and Dad, even though that would have been a stretch.

Grandmum had already left for work when I had gotten up this morning. She left no note, no present, nothing that signified she remembered it was my birthday at all. The little box for June tenth on the calendar in the kitchen was empty. It was as if it were any other normal Monday.

It shouldn’t have surprised me that Grandmum forgot. She hadn’t acknowledged the last few birthdays either. Ever since Mom and Dad stopped calling, she stopped remembering.

I was grateful for the amazing people in this town, but it didn’t do much to repair a heart shattered by forgetful family and friends.

I stole a quick glance at my phone screen before answering Declan. I needed to say something soon, or else I would look like a complete doofus.

But part of me held onto a sliver of hope that someone in my life remembered what today was. Unfortunately, the phone showed nothing but a text for a small coffee from Muggsy’s and a plate of fries from Gennie’s Diner. And a voicemail from Mrs. Bennett.

Curiosity got the best of me—what would my ex-boyfriend’s mother be calling me for? Did she remember it was my birthday? That seemed rather odd, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“Um, no. Nothing special,” I finally answered Declan. Not only was today my birthday, and I had absolutely no plans, but it was also a Monday, which meant I had work. It should be illegal to work on your birthday.

At least it wasn’t a milestone birthday. Sixteen had been a hard pill to swallow, with Mom, Dad, and Grandmum all forgetting. I had waited until midnight, hoping that day would have been different. That they would come barging in and singing Happy Birthday at the strike of twelve.

They hadn’t. In fact, Mom and Dad hadn’t called for another three months after. It was the last time they had called, too.

The only bright spot had been my now ex-boyfriend, Reid, and my friends. They had gone all out, surprises and everything. It was the best.

So far, I hadn’t heard from any of them, either. I would see Emma shortly at work, but I didn’t get my hopes up for anything like last year. Especially with Reid no longer in the picture.

Next year, when I turned eighteen, I vowed to make my birthday special. I would do it for myself, though. It was a lesson I had learned long ago—if I wanted something to be special, I had to do it myself. And so far today, I had done nothing except crash my bike and tear up the skin on my knees.

Declan’s grip tightened on my waist, reminding me of our close proximity. I shuddered and took a step back, letting his hand drift away slowly.

“Nothing fun, huh? That doesn’t sound exciting. Where are you headed now?” Declan cocked his head to the side, a lock of perfectly messy sandy blonde hair falling over his face. Once he plastered his award-winning smile on, he looked exactly like he did on the cover of the tourism brochure.

“Work.” Fear shot through me as I looked at my phone again to see the time. I had left home with plenty to spare, but this little interaction had now made me late.

“Where do you work?” Declan asked, crossing his arms over his chest, and staring at me as I righted my bike and looked it over to make sure it was still rideable.

I glanced down at the teal work tank I had on, with the logo and all, and frowned. “Seaside Cafe. I’m on beach table duty today.” I answered like he asked a normal question, but coming from Declan Storms? A Baysider? It was anything but.

A sly smile crossed his lips. He glanced at Smitty and nodded. “Seaside Cafe. Got it. See you later…” he called after me.

I jumped on my bike and brushed my knotted curls off my shoulder before taking off down the road. My knee stung from the scrapes and my elbow ached, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Declan Storms, however?

He just made it to the top of my list of things to worry about this summer.