Forbidden Fruit (Heart Lies #2)

Chapter 1

“Aren’t you going home today?” Dylan’s words snap me out of my frantic focus on my final. He’s my best friend and roommate, and right now, the one thing that occasionally snaps me back into reality.

Dylan is objectively good-looking with his high cheekbones, blond hair, and perfect nose.

He could be any girl’s silent heartthrob.

Even though we attend different universities, fate brought us together through a date set up by mutual friends.

They thought since we were both Americans living in Paris, it made sense for us to date.

However, we quickly realized that we were better off as friends.

So, we made the unconventional decision to become roommates and try a friends-with-benefits thing.

I groan. Shit. He’s right. This trip home couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Abigail got engaged out of nowhere a couple of months ago and immediately insisted I fly home, not just to help with the wedding but to make her dress.

And of course, I said yes. I love my sister.

Plus, it’s a huge vote of trust on her part; I don’t exactly specialize in wedding gowns.

I’ve only made one once, for school, so yeah, no pressure or anything.

Still, I’m happy to be going home. Especially since she paid for my flight.

With the whopping seventy-five euros sitting in my account, there was no way I was affording a Paris-to-Boston ticket on my own.

“Yeah, my flight’s in a few hours,” I say at last, redirecting all of my attention to him. I could use a break, anyway. “I just need to wrap up this deadline for school first. What about you?”

“I’m leaving on Wednesday. I also have a deadline. We should meet up once we’re in the States. I have to meet Mrs. Miller finally,” Dylan says, referring to my mom. I roll my eyes at him.

“So, you’re willing to fly all the way from Ohio to Boston?” I ask him.

A devilish grin spreads across his face. “Anything for my girl.”

That’s a joke, and we both know it. Neither of us takes this thing we have seriously, but I suppose that’s the beauty of it. I don’t have to think about it too much. I have something familiar and comfortable, available to scratch that itch inside me when necessary.

“I say you’re full of shit,” I tease him back as I get up and make my way to the kitchen.

Our apartment is far from anything fancy or luxurious.

Most of the furniture came from second-hand stores or online marketplaces, where we managed to find good deals.

It’s a mix-and-match style, but it works for us.

The small kitchen opens into the living room, where a small TV sits across from an old couch.

The walls are plain white, without much decoration, because neither of us wanted to risk not getting our deposit back.

Each of us has our own bedroom, which gives us some much-needed privacy and space. We manage to keep the shared areas pretty tidy. That came after some drilling from Dylan, because according to him, I’m a little messy, so I mostly keep my things in my room.

He follows me but goes to sit in the living room to continue working on his computer.

“It’s going to be so busy,” I tell him as I open the fridge, searching for some cucumbers.

“Not only does Abigail want me to help out with the wedding, she wants me to make her dress as well.” Ever since she was younger, she has always mentioned she wanted a big, fancy wedding, and knowing my big sister, I don’t expect anything less.

I’m happy for her. Truly, I am. With the semester wrapping up after I turn in my last assignment and my final one not starting until September, now I’ll have plenty of time to be there for her.

“Wait, already? Didn’t they get engaged like… not so long ago?” Dylan says from the living room. I cut my cucumbers, and then I grab some cream cheese and crackers. It’s the epitome of a healthy snack if I’ve ever seen one.

“We’re all surprised but happy for her. I’ve never even met the guy, but I guess I will soon.” I take my plate with me, passing by Dylan, who remains in his spot in the living room. “Stay there. I don’t need any more distractions.”

Dylan winks as if to say, gotcha. The truth is, all I know about the man Abigail is marrying is that his name is Calvin.

She has been very secretive about the whole thing, which surprises me because she tells me everything, even things I don’t want to know.

I know all about her first kiss, the time she got so drunk she spent the night throwing up, and that one occasion when she was really close to getting her nipples pierced.

Almost as if I have somehow connected to her telepathically, the moment I step into my room and take a bite of my cucumber, my phone rings.

“Hi, Abby.”

“Hi, have you left yet?” she asks, her voice edged with impatience.

Abigail is fifteen years older than me, and because of that, she has this habit of treating me like a child, something I despise, and she knows it.

Sometimes, I wonder if she keeps doing it to get under my skin.

We look alike, but where she has sleek, straight blonde hair, mine is a cascade of chestnut brown waves.

Her skin is porcelain-pale, while mine carries a warm, sun-kissed tan.

Still, the similarities in our eyes and facial lines are undoubtedly there. Everyone knows it.

“I still have five hours. Plus, I have a deadline to meet before I can leave.”

A small silence lingers on the other side of the line. She’s unhappy about this and I know it. A sigh follows.

“Well, did you pack?” she inquires seriously. “Five hours may seem like a lot… but it’s really not.” Jeez, she needs to relax.

I glance over at my empty suitcase and roll my eyes. “Yes. Why are you breathing down my neck?”

“I just don’t want you to miss your flight, that’s all,” she explains. “Oh, you know you’re staying with me, right?” I pause, squinting as if she can see me. That’s… news to me. Who made that decision, and when?

“No, I did not know that. What happened to Mom and Dad, and my room? My space, my peace?” I protest, shaking my head.

“No, please, come on! I haven’t seen you since you left. I want to spend as much time with you as possible while you’re here. I have a spare room that could be your space, and Calvin won’t mind it. Come on.” Her pleading tugs at my heartstrings, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

It’s true, I haven’t been home since I left after graduating high school, but that’s because I’ve been busy with school, work, and trying to make it in Paris. But I miss her a lot more than I let on.

“My God, you’re impossible.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying with me?”

“No.” I fight back a smile. “It means I’ll… think about it. That’s all I can promise.”

“Blair,” Abigail calls, and I relent, knowing there’s no point in pushing further.

With a sigh, I retreat to my bed. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay with you. But you’d better not hover, I mean it.” She has a habit of being the sibling equivalent of a helicopter parent, and I’m not in the mood for it. “I have to go, though. I need to pack and—”

“Wait, what?” she cuts me off, her voice rising an octave. “What do you mean you need to pack? Haven’t you pa—”

“Love you! I’ll see you when I stay at your place.”

Despite all her worrying, Abigail squeals with joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, too. Now go pack. I don’t want you to miss your flight,” she says before hanging up.

With another sigh, I toss my phone onto the bed and turn my attention back to my final project.

As a fashion student, my assignment is to design and sketch a formal dress, which I’ll bring to life in my final semester before graduation.

For my design, I’ve chosen a timeless A-line silhouette: classic, elegant, and flattering on almost any figure.

It hugs the torso just enough before gently flaring out at the waist, striking the perfect balance between simplicity and sophistication.

As time slips away, I drift into my creative mindset, which often isolates me from the rest of the world.

Even the plate I brought in remains untouched.

I completely forget about my flight; it’s only when I submit my final sketch that I realize I have a mere two hours to shower, pack, and make it to the airport.

Panic sets in as I stumble over my empty suitcase in my rush to the bathroom.

“Shit… shit… shit,” I mutter. I’m no stranger to panic and rushing, but even I know I’m cutting it close right now.

I hurry through a brief shower before darting back to my room.

I hastily throw random clothes into my suitcase, struggling to close it.

I suppose it’ll be a surprise to see what I ended up packing once I land in Boston.

“Are you ready? You’re going to be late,” Dylan calls out from outside my room.

“Yeah… I am. I just…” I begin, opening the door, but my words trail off as I notice Dylan’s amused smile. I firmly clutch the handle of my suitcase, trying to force it through the door frame. “Something funny?”

Dylan gestures down toward me. Only then do I realize I’m standing here in my underwear and bra. “Damn it, Dylan!” I exclaim, quickly shutting the door.

“What did I do?” Dylan questions, clearly amused by me.

I hurriedly put on an oversized shirt and a pair of yoga pants, aiming for comfort rather than style.

I scan the room and spot my iPad, which I grab before joining Dylan outside.

I suppose it has all worked out somehow.

If I hadn’t forgotten to put my shirt on, the iPad would’ve stayed back, and that’s my lifeline.

“Let’s go. I’m so late,” I say. Dylan helps me with the suitcase as we move down three flights of stairs and out onto the street, where his car waits for us. Now, the panic sets in even more. Abby will kill me if I miss this flight, and I’ll have no one to blame but myself.