Chapter 1 #2
Still, good hair and some locker-room talk doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never fit in. Not in Laguna Hills, at least.
I wasn’t the cool girl in high school. The only parties I went to were the ones Hayes dragged me to, and even then, I always knew I was only there because of him. I was the plus-one no one actually invited. The tag-along.
That’s why, even if this play was mostly about NYU, part of me hoped it could mean something more. I thought maybe my freshman year at LHU could be a fresh start. That maybe Hercules would give me an actual in—a way to be seen. To finally be accepted. To belong, even just a little.
It’s stupid, I know, but it’s the truth.
If only I could be more like Hayes.
My best friend isn’t anything like the typical preppy Ken-doll guys around here, with their sun-streaked hair, Abercrombie jeans, and popped collars. But somehow, it works for him. People here absolutely worship Hayes. He’s practically royalty. Sometimes I wish—
“Yo, Alligator!”
I look up, and as if my thoughts alone conjured him, there he is.
Hayden Basileus Vassilios.
LHU’s golden-boy campus legend strolls through the parking lot like he owns the place. Which, I guess he sort of does, as the school’s new star quarterback.
My breath catches for a moment at the spectacular view. Carved cheekbones. Dimpled chin. Proud, aristocratic nose. Blue eyes so dark they read almost violet, like a stormy night sky lit by lightning. He’s like some brooding, devastatingly gorgeous Greek god come to life.
Judging by the gym bag slung over his shoulder and the damp, inky-black hair pushed haphazardly off his forehead, he must’ve just come from morning practice. He’s in a black LHU hoodie and leather jacket, somehow managing to look both effortlessly cool and vaguely dangerous.
“Do you really have to call me that in public?” I scowl at him through my rolled-down window.
Even if he thinks it’s cute, it annoys me to no end that the best-looking guy in town has nicknamed me after a scaly, smelly, prehistoric swamp creature.
“Oh, my bad. You prefer Alysander now?” He grins, mischief dancing in his eyes. Hayes only ever uses my full name when he’s trying to get under my skin—or remind me he knows me better than anyone.
“Good point.”
Amber and her clones linger near the Performing Arts Center entrance, her gaze locked possessively on Hayes, like he’s still hers, even though they’ve been broken up all summer.
They’ve been on-again, off-again for years, and while I’d love to believe it’s over for good this time, I know better. They always seem to find their way back to each other, eventually.
“So what’s the word?” he asks, voice bright with anticipation. “You got the part, right?”
I don’t feel like smiling, but whenever Hayes looks at me like this—dimples and dazzling white teeth on display—I can’t help but grin back.
Unfortunately, he misreads my smile and yanks open the car door, pulling me out of the driver’s seat in one big swoop and wrapping me up in his arms.
“Hell yes! I knew it!” he yells, spinning me around so wildly my feet leave the pavement. “How’s it feel to be Laguna Hills’ newest star?”
I stiffen in his arms, the sting of embarrassment creeping under my skin.
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t get Megara—Amber did.”
His face falls instantly.
“Shit. Are you serious?”
I shrug, scuffing the toe of my boot against the pavement. “It’s fine.”
“I’m so sorry, Al. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He sets me gently back on the ground, eyes wide with sympathy. “But if those fools can’t see it, screw ’em.” Then he smirks. “Well… except Amber. We’ve got a date tomorrow.”
“Since when?” I lift a brow. “I thought she wanted to be single senior year. Explore her options, whatever that means.”
“It’s not that deep.” He shrugs. “She won’t stop texting me, so I figured—why not? We’re going to Souvlaki’s for dinner and then catching the new Blumhouse flick.”
“Wait—what? You can’t see that without me.” I fold my arms across my chest, fighting the stupid twist in my gut. “And Amber hates scary movies.”
I probably sound like a jealous girlfriend, but horror movies are our thing, and he damn well knows it. It’s tradition: every new release is just the two of us, followed by way too much Souvlaki’s takeout and an hours-long postmortem discussing the movie.
“Relax, dude. Obviously, I’m watching it with you first,” he says with a wink. “Come over tonight, okay? Around six?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s cool.”
I try to sound indifferent, but I’m sure the small smile tugging at my lips gives me away. I can’t help it—I love when I come first.
“Besides,” he adds, lowering his voice, “I’m not really going to watch the movie with Ambs anyway, if you know what I mean.” He gives my shoulder a playful bump like I’m one of his over-sexed football teammates.
“Okay, gross. Enough about my sister,” I say, swatting at him.
He catches my hand mid-air, and something in his expression softens. “I really am sorry about the play,” he says, pulling me into a big hug. “I wish I could fix this for you. I hate seeing you unhappy.”
A little thrill of electricity runs through my body at his touch, but I ignore it.
I have to.
I’m only human—no more immune to his good looks and charm than any other mere mortal—but it’s pointless to give in to the feelings. Hayes has never seen me that way. I’m his best friend. Safe. Familiar. Like a favorite pair of cozy socks. Or raggedy old pajamas.
And then there’s Amber.
He’s still into her, no matter how much he pretends otherwise. I don’t know why. He deserves so much better, but she’s always had a hold on him I can’t understand.
That’s why, instead of getting lost in the warmth of his delicious embrace, I fixate on the new tattoo curling along the side of his neck.
It’s stupid hot.
A bold circle with three spirals and three dots, the Greek symbol for strength. I know there’s another one, even bigger, etched along the inside of his arm. A coiled serpent, ready to strike. He got them both right after his eighteenth birthday.
“They’re going to regret passing you over,” he says, so close I feel his cool breath on my cheek. “One day, they’ll all see how special you are, just like I do. I promise.”
I push him away.
“Oh, please. Get real. That’s never going to happen.” I sigh, my gaze dropping to the cracked asphalt. “Not here, anyway.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry. “You’re amazing and anyone who doesn’t see that is either blind or just stupid.”
My breath catches. The way he’s looking at me, I can tell he means every word.
“Careful,” I say, forcing a crooked smile to cover the sweet ache blooming in my chest. “Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you’re secretly in love with me.”
His jaw ticks. “You don’t have to turn everything into a joke, you know. It’s okay to be hurt,” he says. “You don’t have to hide that from me.”
“I’m not,” I lie, stepping back. “It’s just a stupid play.”
His gaze doesn’t waver, too steady, too sincere, as if reading every crack I try to hide. I know he cares. I know he sees me. But he’ll never really understand what it’s like to be me. To have something you want so badly snatched away from you. Over and over.
Not when he’s Hayden Vassilios—the guy who always wins.
He gets whatever he wants. Perfect life. Perfect family. A mother that adores him, and even though his father is gone on business most of the time, he still makes it clear how much he loves Hayes. How proud he is, always showering his only son with gifts and attention.
Me?
I don’t even know my father’s last name.
He left before I was old enough to remember his face, and Mom barely mentions him. Even if I wanted to find him—and I don’t—I wouldn’t know where to start. For all I know, he’s some meth-addicted crackhead who abandoned his two daughters to go snort drugs and rob banks.
“Al—”
“I said I’m fine!” I snap, my eyes stinging. “In a few months, I’ll be at NYU where I belong, and I’ll never have to see any of these assholes ever again.”
I turn away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I don’t—won’t—allow myself to cry, even in front of Hayes. Crying is for silly girls like Amber, the kind who weaponize emotion to get what they want.
Not me.
I take my hurt and bury it so deep, sometimes even I forget it’s there.
Blinking hard, I force the burn behind my eyes to disappear.
Well, this is just great.
Freshman year hasn’t even started yet, and everything’s already falling apart. And somehow… I know this is just the beginning.