Chapter Twenty-One
Twelve years ago…
Sloane stepped farther out onto the porch. Away from the chaos that reigned in the frat house behind her. She took in a deep lungful of smog-infested LA air instead. At this point, it was better than the lovely combo of weed, body odor, and puke smells inside.
She was having the quintessential college experience. Or something. Attending a frat party with a bunch of cool college kids. Or at least that’s what she’d assumed would happen when her brother told her about the party.
But the reality was not living up to the hype. Watching people fawn over her brother and his teammates because they played football was quite an experience.
She’d made the campus visit, ostensibly to see if she wanted to be a UCLA Bruin. The real reason was to see August. Duh. It had been a few months since Thanksgiving. She’d wanted to see his ridiculously handsome face again and leapt at the convenient excuse.
Not that she’d had much chance to see or talk to him so far. She’d spent the day touring the campus and participating in prospective student activities. Afterward, she’d met up with Donovan, who told her about the party.
And still she’d had little to no August face time. When he wasn’t surrounded by other students wanting a second of his time, his girlfriend, Melinda, was there. His perfect girlfriend who was way cooler than Sloane would ever be. And the worst thing was she couldn’t even hate her. Melinda had been nothing but gracious to Sloane, even opening her closet to Sloane so she didn’t look like a total dork at the party. Okay, she hated her just a smidge. If only because she had the right to hug and kiss August whenever she wanted.
That display of affection had been the last straw that sent Sloane skedaddling out of the party.
Sloane blew out a breath and took a seat on the top step. Damn, this sucked sooo hard. Why had she come to LA? She could have made her decision about college without ever stepping foot on this campus or subjecting herself to the horror of watching the guy she liked love on someone else.
She nodded at some kids who stumbled up the stairs and into the house. Looked like they’d started the partying earlier. Yeah, this was the best .
A couple of minutes later, the door opened behind her.
“Sloane? What are you doing out here?” August asked.
She twisted around so fast she almost tumbled off her perch, and wouldn’t that have been fabulous? “What are you doing out here?”
She jumped up and moved closer to him, drawn to him like a magnet.
August jerked his chin toward the house. “Waiting for Melinda. I’m partied out. Some people from her animal rights group came and they’re having an impromptu protest planning session.”
Yeah, Melinda was way cooler than Sloane. “Animal rights isn’t your thing?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. It was adorable. He was adorable. “I support when I can, but it’s her passion.” He pointed at the phone in her hand. “I interrupted you. Scrolling Facebook or Twitter?”
Sloane shook her head. “Good guess, but no. I’m reading a book.”
“What kind?”
The best kind. Not that everyone shared her opinion. She gave him her best death glare. “I’ll tell you, but if you make fun of me, I’ll kneecap you and all your fawning fans will keel over in agony.”
He covered his heart with his hand. “Promise.”
“It’s a romance. Brenda Jackson, the queen.” She glared again.
He pointed at his face. “This is me, opening my mouth, but not to say anything mean.”
She nodded regally. “You may continue.”
“Do you read a lot of romance?”
She nodded. “It’s my fave. People working hard for their happily-ever-after and being rewarded for their efforts. It gives me hope that it can actually happen. My parents weren’t the greatest example.”
“Cool.”
Sloane stared at him. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other, then burst into laughter. By silent mutual accord, they settled against the windowpane and stared out into the street.
“We always seem to find ourselves on porches,” she said.
“It’s good to see your face, Sloane.” He bumped shoulders with her. How she didn’t melt into a puddle of goo, she would never know.
“Yours, too.” She twisted to study his profile. It was sheer perfection.
“Have you made a choice about college yet?”
“Not yet.” Though the choice was becoming clearer by the second.