Make You Mine (Willow Park)

Chapter 1

Sibyl

Butterflies fill my stomach. Nerves settle in my chest like a vice grip, winding tighter and tighter. I smooth my hands down my dress, playing with the gathered seam on the skirt.

Why did I agree to this? Hazel said I needed to move on. Victoria said it would be good for me. Currently, I want to throw up all over this Uber. Who does this?

Three weeks ago, I came across a local photographer taking applications for stranger sessions—the cute ones all over social media where they meet for the first time and have a storybook photo session.

I’ve seen a couple of these sessions where the strangers end up in a real relationship afterward.

It’s adorable, heartwarming, and inspiring. Drunk Sibyl wanted that.

Sober Sibyl hates that drunk Sibyl filled out that questionnaire and matched with someone. I’ve lived in this county my whole damn life, and the only person I’ve ever matched with is the asshole I’m trying to get over.

Kellan

Did you bring your pepper spray?

Me

No. I did not

Kellan

Sibs… you’re meeting a stranger

Me

Several actually.

There’s going to be a photographer and her assistant, Kel. What do you think is going to happen?

Kellan

I don’t know. Anything could happen!

Me

there’s a knife in my purse

Kellan

Atta girl

I roll my eyes at my brother’s dramatics.

Tucking my phone back into my purse, I watch the foggy landscape roll by.

It’s a beautiful day for pictures—the kind of setting that’s dreamy, yet a little bit moody.

If I’d scheduled this shoot for myself, I’d have wanted this type of weather.

Willow Park does some of its best work on a moody day like this.

I’ve been here several times, nursing a bottle of wine, or just to clear my head.

In fact, Kellan and I spent a lot of time here as kids.

This park has the cutest little pond with an old wooden dock that’s maybe six feet long. Willow trees surround the pond, and an old wooden boardwalk winds through them—a little half-mile walking path that takes you around the water.

It’s one of my favorite places on earth. Drunk Sibyl was screaming that this was meant to be. Sober Sibyl wants to bury her head in her hands and scream.

I work the reception desk at my brother’s auto body shop.

I was raised by a single dad with Kellan as my main companion.

Makeup, dresses…none of that is my strong suit.

I wasn’t surprised at all when the girls showed up this morning.

Bags and bags of product, hot tools, and clothes strung over their arms.

My little house looks like a fashion grenade went off in it.

I feel…pretty, though.

Hazel lent me a dark blue dress. It’s a soft cotton material. The neckline is lower than I’d normally go for, the elastic wrapping around my shoulders, leaving them bare as loose material flows down my arms. The fabric cinches at my wrists. It’s flowy and whimsical and perfect for today.

Victoria curled my long, dark brown hair, leaving it all down, the layers framing my pale face.

I don’t spend enough time outside, or so the girls tell me.

Since Halston broke up with me, I’ve been as adventurous as going to work and staying home.

Pretending I’m a contractor because I’ve watched a few shows on HGTV and bought a giant mess of a house that needs major renovations.

Aside from the hardware store, I haven’t gone out in weeks—probably months.

Halston talked about proposing, I even found a ring in his sock drawer.

I wish I’d known it was for her—that I was the experiment.

He worked that itch out of his system, and now a perky little blonde three towns over is wearing that ring.

I tried to tell her. Hell, all the girls tried to tell her he’s an asshole.

Naturally, I’m the villain in her story. I caused her man to cheat.

Something tells me she doesn’t realize we’d had a relationship for over two years. The way she messaged, I think she thought we had a one-night stand, and she could forgive him for that. I wonder if she’d feel the same way if she knew.

Some hearts just don’t want to listen. I know mine didn’t. I saw the signs. I knew he was stepping out and still, I waited. I desperately wanted him to choose me. All of my friends are married; my entire friend group—minus my brother—is in loving, committed relationships. I wanted to be next.

Now that I’m here, I’m glad he didn’t propose. I would have said yes, and we would have been miserable. Halston isn’t going to stop cheating. At least I know it’ll never be with me again. He can kick rocks for all I care.

The sleek, black sedan rolls up to Willow Park. My Uber driver, Allen, turns to offer a toothy grin.

“Hope he treats you right, Miss. You look real pretty.”

Any other time, I might have thought Allen was being a bit creepy. Today, though, I think the old man really means it.

“Thank you, Allen.” I add a nice little tip on the app and slip out the door.

“Sibyl! Hi!” Ramona, the photographer, greets me at the edge of the parking lot.

I offer my hand to her, and those butterflies in my belly increase tenfold.

Guess there’s no backing out now. “Your match is already here, he’s got a blindfold on, so I’m going to put yours on, and we’ll get you guys set up for photos! Do you trust me?”

She holds out a champagne-colored silk scarf with dark gold swirls throughout it. I gulp, giving her my least convincing smile.

“Don’t worry, there’s no pressure,” Ramona assures me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, and if the vibes are off, we can absolutely call it. I so appreciate you being willing to do this.”

“It’s no problem.” My smile returns, more genuine this time. “I’m just super nervous. I’ve never done anything like this.”

Ramona ties her hair back into a knot on the top of her head, little blonde wisps framing her face. She’s wearing a pair of black overalls that look insanely soft, with a chunky knit sweater hanging off her curvy body. She’s gorgeous.

“Maybe you should do the session. I can take decent photos,” I say, trying to make a joke.

Ramona, to her credit, lets her head fall back in laughter. “Thank you, but no. I stay behind the camera for a reason.”

Extending the scarf again, Ramona offers to take my purse. Tying the scarf around my head, she’s careful with my hair, which I appreciate. Tori will kill me if it doesn’t look flawless in these photos; it took her close to an hour to curl my stubborn, ridiculously thick hair.

Ramona walks me down the dirt path, and I can almost picture it in my head.

Tall grasses reach up and tickle the tips of my fingers.

Loose pebbles crunch under my feet. When we get closer to the pond, I hear the soft symphony of wildlife.

My chest instantly loosens as I breathe it all in, I love this place.

Kellan and I used to spend hours here fishing or chasing frogs with his best friend.

It’s like coming home.

“Okay.” Ramona’s voice startles me. “I’m walking you up to your match. Once I get y’all positioned, you’ll be facing away from each other. I’m going to snap a photo of you with your blindfolds on, then I’ll take them off, and we’ll do a countdown.”

I nod.

“Great, you’re in place,” she says, positioning my body exactly where she wants me. Warmth spreads up my back, the heat of his body emanating through my dress. “Are you comfortable holding hands?” she asks.

I shrug, waiting for the stranger to say something, but he must shrug as well. Cool, soft fingers guide my hand backward, settling it into a warm, rough palm. Fingers intertwine with mine, and I barely hold back a gasp as a zing of electricity spreads across my skin.

“Great! Oh my god, you guys look so cute!” Ramona squeals from somewhere to my right. “Okay, coming for the blindfolds!” She gently takes the scarf off my head, my eyes blinking to adjust. The light disperses through the fog, making it feel even brighter.

When my vision clears, I realize that I’m staring at my favorite willow tree. The sight of it makes me smile, forgetting my nerves.

“Okay, great. Just stay in that pose, and I’ll grab a couple shots here.” The camera clicks a few times. The nerves return with enough force that I forget how to breathe.

“Alright, you two, on the count of three. One, two, three—”

I turn on my heel. Stunned. Green eyes pierce mine, and a headful of thick, dirty-blond hair shifts as he moves. A smile crosses that too-handsome, too-familiar face.

“Are you kidding me?” I squeal. “Eli!”