2. Chapter 2
two
Skye
My alarm went off at six, and, gosh, I crawled out of bed like a sloth.
I’d told myself I’d stop studying for my calculus test at midnight.
Then at one, because I kept tripping over implicit differentiation.
Then after five more practice problems, just to make sure I actually understood it.
After all, my math grade is the difference between graduating valedictorian and...
not. And when both your parents’ offices are full of framed diplomas, fancy Latin honors, and little glass awards, “not” isn’t really an option. So I went to bed at two.
“Baby, did you grab your lunch?” my mom calls after me on my way out the front door.
“Yes, Mom!”
“And your water?”
“Also yes!”
“Okay. Love you, Skye. Remember to make good choices.”
I always do. I know what’s expected.
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Her laugh rings after me as I close the garage door behind me.
I pause, grinning at the snowy-white car parked in our garage. I’ve only had my driver’s license for a year and a half. When I got it, my parents and I made a deal: I’d drive my mom’s old BMW convertible until my parents deemed me responsible enough for something new.
I followed every rule. No speeding. Avoid curbs. No parking too close to other cars. Easy in the turns. No hard braking. I didn’t even give my friends rides. I treated that BMW like it was made of glass.
And then Christmas morning, my parents led me into the garage and there it was: the most gorgeous, shiny Mercedes with a big red bow on top, just like in the ads. I swear, I almost passed out.
I still park at the far end of every lot and wince when someone walks too close to it. My family doesn’t do careless.
It takes me only five minutes to collect my best friend.
“Morning! How’s the wrist?” I ask as Lily slides into the passenger seat, my eyes settling on the flesh-colored bandage she earned herself by flying off her horse at practice last week.
“A lot better,” she says. “I should be back in the saddle this weekend.”
“No barn visit for you today?”
She shakes her head. “My mom says this is the perfect opportunity for me to finish my college applications. I’ve been low-key slacking on those.”
My parents made me get mine done over Christmas break. As cranky as I was sitting in my room while my friends were out riding snowmobiles, I’m still glad I have one less thing weighing on me.
“’kay. I’ll lunge Cal for you when I’m done with Versailles this afternoon.”
Yes, my horse is named after the French castle. Pretentious? Maybe. But it suits her. She’s a beautiful, dappled mare who’s won me so many ribbons and trophies I no longer have room on my shelf.
Ten minutes later, Lily and I arrive at school. We beeline to our lockers. “I need to finish my Hamlet report this weekend,” I mutter, shoving the book in my bag.
Lily jabs her elbow into my ribs. I glance past her and spot the reason for the pink flush warming her cheeks.
Boston Rawlings.
My heart lurches.
“I swear he gets hotter and hotter every day,” Lily whispers, her eyes glued to Boston as he zips his backpack shut.
All I can do is nod because, yeah, Boston’s really nice to look at. Actually, that’s kind of an understatement.
He’s pretty perfect.
Even though he’s bundled up for the Minnesota winter, I know what’s hiding beneath that jacket and hoodie. Rounded shoulders. Nice biceps. I noticed them when school started again last fall. His dark hair is short on the sides, longer on top and tousled like he ran his hands through it.
Boston’s always drawn looks. At least ever since I was old enough to pay attention to things like that. I’ve even heard girls talk about him, quiet whispers in class or the hallway. I’ve heard everything from “He’s so cute” to more embarrassing stuff like “I wish he’d take my v-card.”
But Boston isn’t just handsome. He’s also really kind.
Always has been. Which is why I get so annoyed when I hear girls talk about him like that.
They don’t even really know him. Don’t know that his dad died when he was little, or that cauliflower makes him gag, or that his favorite video game character growing up was Yoshi.
I do, though. Because Boston and I grew up together. We even lived on the same street until my dad made equity partner in his firm and my family moved. We still have some classes together and the same circle of friends, though Boston hasn’t been around much lately.
As if he can sense us staring, Boston looks up and over. A sweet smile spreads across his full lips.
Not at Lily. At me.
I think.
Something in my stomach swoops.
He shuts his locker and walks toward us.
“Hey Boston,” Lily says, her voice off-pitch.
She’s been hung up on Boston for weeks now, frequently talking my ear off about pretend-scenarios in which he asks her out.
I grin at her obvious crush on him, even though a tiny, stupid part of me doesn’t feel like grinning. I shove that part down. There’s no way I’m competing with my best friend for a boy. Lily has already staked her claim—and it’s sisters before misters, after all.
“Morning Boss.” I smile.
“What’s up guys?” Boston’s gray eyes are bright.
“Not much, just about to fail my physics test,” Lily whines.
“No, you won’t,” he assures her, chuckling. “You’ve been doing great during the practice runs.”
“Well, you’re a good tutor.” Lily flashes him a smile, then does that thing where she shimmies her shoulders to emphasize her chest.
Boston doesn’t seem to notice. His gaze lands on me. “Congrats on winning the regional championship, Stormy.”
The smile on my face is immediate—both at the nickname he still calls me and his praise.
After months of competing against other high school mock trial teams in and around Minneapolis, my team took home the regional trophy and qualified for the state championships.
As if that wasn’t exciting enough, I won the award for best plaintiff's attorney in the fake wrongful death case loosely based on the death of the lead singer of a band that was famous decades ago.
Considering what my dad does for a living, I was over the moon. And so were my parents.
“Thanks, Boss,” I say, beaming. “I didn’t think anyone knew.”
He holds up his phone. “The school posted it this morning. You looked really nice in that black suit.”
Not sure if the janitor turned up the thermostat in the building, but it’s suddenly very hot in here.
“Thank you.” Pretty sure I could fry an egg on my face.
He swallows. “I actually meant to ask you—”
“Boss!” someone calls from down the hallway.
Jake grins as he approaches with Pacey and Lily’s cousin Jonathan in tow. “You’re coming to my party on Friday, yeah?”
“Dude, I told you I’ll try, but no promises,” Boston says.
Pacey scoffs next to Jake. “I don’t know why the fuck you even bother, Jake. Boss hasn’t been to a party in forever, man.”
Jake jumps to Boston’s defense. “Because unlike your lazy ass, Boss works and shit.”
Pacey just rolls his eyes, then leans against the locker next to Lily and plasters a grin onto his face. “You’re going to be there though, right?”
Only recently has Pacey started flirting with Lily.
It’s a strange new dynamic because we’ve known him almost as long as we’ve known Boston and Jake.
Weird how these things happen sometimes, how it’s possible to go from friendship to wanting so much more without even realizing it until you wake up one day and see the person you’ve known practically all your life in this whole new light.
“Sure am,” Lily breathes.
“Sweet,” Pacey drawls.
His expression falters the second Lily gifts Boston her brightest smile.
“I really hope you can make it, Boss,” she says.
Jonathan busts up laughing. “Fuck dude, I told you Lil isn’t interested. She has the hots for Boss.”
I for one think it would be a lot more convenient if she was attracted to Pacey.
Lily turns crimson while Jake laughs at Pacey’s offended expression.
“What’s funny?” another voice booms over the noise.
It’s Archer, the captain of the varsity soccer team Jake, Pacey, and Jonathan play on.
Jake grins slyly. “Oh, just Pacey here still trying his luck with Lily who very obviously wants to jump Boston’s bones.”
Archer comes to a stop next to Lily. “If you want my opinion, Pace is the superior option.”
I can’t agree with that.
“I gotta get to class,” Boston mutters, hiking his backpack over his shoulder. “Congrats again, Skye.”
He gives me a hug. Quick, but not so fast that I don’t get a whiff of his scent—body wash, something woodsy, and a little bit like that first rain after a long, hot summer. My eyes flutter.
“Friday!” Jake calls after Boston, who just raises his hand in acknowledgement. I still don’t know what he was going to ask me.
“Yeah, me too,” Lily says quietly, her face beet red. “I’ll see you in history.”
The group disperses with see-you-laters, and I make my way to Econ, the scent of rain still in my nose.
“Skye,” Archer calls, then falls into step beside me.
“Hey, Arch.”
“What time do you want me to come pick you up on Friday?”
I stop dead. “What?”
“What time should I come get you?” he repeats, smirking. “For Jake’s party.”
I frown. “Uhh… I… Why would you pick me up?”
He chuckles. “You’re my date on Friday.”
My first instinct is to laugh. My second is to rummage through my brain. Maybe I forgot about some conversation we had? But I’m pretty sure I’d remember.
Archer’s Mister Popular—tall and conditioned. His ash blond hair and blue eyes make him look like a member of a boyband, and he very well knows it.
“Oh, am I?” I giggle, flustered.
“Yeah, obviously,” he says. “The most beautiful girl at school should show up to Jake’s birthday party with the most handsome guy at school, don’t you think?”
I stare at him. I am the most beautiful girl here?
Sure, I’ve been asked out before, and I don’t think I’m ugly or anything, but I’m pretty sure there are more beautiful girls at my high school.
Tessa, for example—the captain of the figure skating team—and Dalia, who’s been popular with the boys since she came back to school with D cups the summer after freshman year.
“Uhh…” I stutter. “I gotta… My parents—” No way they’re going to let me go to a party with a boy. No. Way.
Archer chuckles. “Just tell them Orson Longfellow’s son asked you out,” he says with a wide smile. “I’ll swing by at seven.”
The bell rings.
I shake my head to clear it. “Okay, fine, seven,” I say quickly, surprised by this entire interaction. I turn to run the rest of the way to my classroom, but Archer reaches for my wrist and pulls me back around.
“Seven,” he says, then stamps a kiss on my cheek.
Matter closed, I guess.