Ronin’s Guide to Romancing Your Best Friend (Blue Fields #1)

Prologue

MELLIE

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD

My life as I know it is over.

Empty fields and tall grass pass me by in a greenish blur as I stare blankly out of my car window. My little brother bounces excitedly in his seat beside me, and I turn to glare at him.

“Stop moving,” I snap, annoyed by his enthusiasm of being hauled across the country to live in the middle of nowhere.

“Hush, Amelia. He’s just excited about the new house,” my mom admonishes from the front passenger seat of our SUV. She reaches back to comfort Evan, patting his bouncing knee before turning to me. “We’re almost there. Aren’t you looking forward to seeing it?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the p sound with my lips.

Mom sighs and turns back to the front of the car. My dad takes her hand to hold over the center console between them.

Continuing to glare out the window, I pull out my iPod and shove my earbuds in, cranking up The White Stripes to drown out my family’s excited chatter.

Relaxing my head against the headrest, my gaze catches on a tear in the gray upholstered fabric just above my seat.

I reach up and stick my pointer finger into the opening, pulling slightly.

Jack White blares in my ears, singing about armies and the Queen of England. I nod to the beat, tapping my foot against the door in time with the notes.

A flash of blue outside catches my eye, and I turn to look. As angry as I am at my parents for dragging me away from everything I know—everyone I know—I can’t help the way my lips part slightly at the sight outside as we drive by.

So that’s why this place is called Blue Fields.

Endless fields of blue grass stretch out around us as far as I can see—no, not grass, flowers; bright, vivid blue flowers. So many of them, so close together they give off the illusion of a field of blue grass.

My dad slows the car, giving us a chance to take in the scenery. I am loath to admit it, and would never say so out loud, but it’s beautiful. It makes me mad. I vowed not to like anything about this place.

We pass the last of the fields and drive through what I can only assume is this town’s excuse of a downtown, and my heart sinks as I take in how truly small this place is.

The brick buildings are all lined up like little carbon copies of one another.

Treetops rise up between the buildings, the green bursts of color breaking up the monotony.

There’s a large sprawling lawn in the center of town, and I scoff at the cheesy-looking gazebo plopped right in the middle.

A crowd of people mill around the grassy clearing, booths scattered around with merchandise I can’t quite make out from this distance.

Two townsfolk wave to each other before they cross the small sidewalk and embrace.

It’s like some small town out of my nightmares.

I can already picture everyone nosing into my life, curious about the new girl in town.

I already feel like I’m drowning, or suffocating.

Being smothered by the screaming quietness of this place.

I miss my old neighborhood with its houses crammed close together. I miss the city and the noise.

We pass by a strip of shops and a cheerful display of window art catches my attention reading The Reading Nook in neat, colorful block letters, surrounded by paintings of dancing books among a field of those same blue flowers we just drove by.

“Dad! Stop!” I cry out, shattering the silence within the car.

My father slows the car to a standstill at the end of the street, then catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “What’s up, pumpkin?”

I point to the row of brick shops. “There’s a bookstore. Can we please go check it out before we go to the new house? Please?” I muster up the most pathetic face I can, lacing my fingers together in a begging gesture.

My mom and dad exchange a look I can’t decipher, a silent conversation playing out in the front of the car. Mom’s eyes widen a fraction and she tilts her head toward where I’m leaning in between their seats.

Dad smiles, resignation softening his features before he faces me. “Sure, Amelia. Why don’t you go explore for a bit, and we’ll head over to that diner we just passed on the corner, grab a bite to eat.” He winks at me. “Meet us there when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Dad!” I give him an awkward one-armed hug across the console. “See you later!”

I jump out onto the sidewalk before my parents can change their minds, then stuff my earbuds and iPod back into the pocket of my jeans. My first steps in our new hometown of Blue Fields, Washington.

I glance back toward the town square and the gazebo, the cheerful, white wood designwork seeming to mock me as if it reads “Hello, Mellie. Welcome to Hell.” Sighing, I turn away and walk down to The Reading Nook. At least I have this one small thing to look forward to in this hellscape.

The bell above the door chimes as I push it open, and the comforting stillness that only books can bring envelopes me when I step inside.

Taking in everything, the shop is warm and welcoming, a cozy haven away from the busybodies outside.

Muted classical music plays from hidden speakers, and there’s a scent of vanilla in the air mixed with the undeniable undertones of books.

Walking deeper into the shop, I drift among the shelves, fingertips scanning book spines as I go.

I spy a small section of graphic novels and manga, and as I approach, I realize that I’m not alone.

A boy around my age sits at a small table, sporting a worn Godzilla comic book shirt with a deck of cards spread out in front of him.

He glances up at the sound of my footsteps. Long, dark brown hair brushes the tips of his shoulders, loose strands falling over thick, black framed glasses, peering up at me with blue curious eyes.

When my heart rate picks up, my hands become sweaty and I have to wipe them on my jeans. I don’t meet his gaze, instead zeroing in on the manga in front of me and grabbing a volume at random. I flip the pages idly, aiming for nonchalance.

I don’t know why I didn’t expect to meet anyone my age right away. Blue Fields has taken on a life of its own in my imagination up until now—a torture chamber meant to end all happiness in my life. I was so caught up with wallowing that I didn’t account for cute boys.

“Hi.”

The boy’s voice makes me jump as it breaks the silence. I almost drop the book in my hands, so I hastily shove it back into place on the shelf. I turn, butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach. “Hi.”

He gives me a shy smile before gesturing to the table. “Do you play Magic?”

I eye the Magic the Gathering cards. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Cool. Wanna play?”

“Oh. Sure, okay.” I shove my hands into my back pockets for something to do.

“Cool,” he repeats.

My giggle breaks the awkwardness settling between us, and he chuckles along. The next smile transforms his face, his blue irises shining behind his large frames. “Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “Are you here for the flower festival?”

I sit, shaking my head. “Just moved here. Today, actually.”

His eyes light up, but he clears his throat, nodding casually. “Sweet. Want a soda? My grandparents keep some in the break room.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “They own this place. I’m here practically everyday.”

I accept his offer of a drink before leaning in to examine the Magic decks on the table.

The boy stands and walks backward to a door directly behind him. “What’s your name?”

“Amelia.” My hands drift toward my hair and I pull on my ponytail, playing with the end. “But everyone calls me Mellie.”

“Hi, Mellie.” Our gazes meet, and something in the air between us shifts as the nickname slips easily from his lips. Any lingering awkwardness evaporates. He shoots me a wide grin as he pushes open the breakroom door, dimples on each of his cheeks winking down at me. “I’m Ronin.”