Prologue
The decathlon was over before I knew it. After months of studying and preparation, we not only won but also scored higher than any winning team in the last forty years.
It sounds great. I’m excited for my team and to have yet another thing to add to my long list of accomplishments, but without Jordan here, it’s not the same. My team might appreciate my help with winning, but we aren’t really friends. Hell, I don't think half of them even like me. Which means after we’re announced as the winners and everyone trickles off to celebrate, I’m left alone.
Usually, Jordan would take me out for dinner, and we’d find something stupid to do. He’s my brother, my twin, older by only two minutes, but nobody can argue when he says I’m his better half. He’s always been the one to get us into trouble, unafraid of risks, and so damn lovable that I swear he could get away with murder. That, and he’s always been the star of every sport he plays, and he plays a lot of them.
Sports apparently make you popular; well, when you're good at them, they do.
We both have our things; mine just happens to be books, and while he’s not dumb, he excels outside the classroom. He often gets all the love, while I’m tolerated as the know-it-all sister he constantly has tag along with him.
I wander out onto the grounds, careful to avoid Gavin, who apparently lacks his posse this time. This is the fourth year in a row I’ve beaten him, and he never takes it well. We’ve always had a bit of a rivalry, but of course Jordan connected with them. Apparently, Gavin’s friends were pretty big in sports, too, which means they knew each other, even if just in passing. Now, without him here to act as a buffer, I feel naked. It’s not like I’m not used to the glares and rude whispered words, but I’d rather not be on the receiving end right now.
No, right now, I just want to be left alone.
Sitting on the stairs outside one of the back doors, I’ve been mostly unbothered. Most people seem to know their way around well enough. This is the same college we’ve competed at every year.
Which is how I know that if I followed the path, I could take it through the woods or even over to the gazebo, which is usually lit with fairy lights. I’d been tempted to go to it; I doubt many people know it’s there, but so far, I’ve been left well enough alone.
The door behind me creaks as if the fucking universe felt the need to prove me wrong.
I should have just gone to the damn gazebo.
“Is this seat taken?” A deep, husky voice asks from behind me, making me whip around. No way was that anyone from the schools. We might be older now, but that’s not the voice of a high schooler, senior or not.
Holy shit.
The man behind me is, in fact, a man. He’s tall, and it’s not just because I’m sitting on the ground. No, he’s got to be taller thansix feet; that’s how tall Jordan is, and this guy probably has a few inches on him.
His hair is dirty blond and long, long enough that it’s pulled back in a low pony at the base of his neck. It’s getting dark out, but with the little bit of light left, I’m pretty sure his hair is darker underneath, green maybe or blue. I can’t tell for sure what the color is, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m a sucker for anything like that: colored hair, tattoos, piercings.
Jordan says it’s because those are the ‘bad boys,’ and sure, that could be it. Or maybe I just wish I had the freedom they have.
Our aunt would never let me do anything like that.
The thought alone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up; she no doubt would beat me silly if I ever dared try.
Shaking off the thought of her and all the negativity that comes with it. I continue to look over the man as he drops onto the step a few higher up from me with a smile on his face.
His smile makes my cheeks heat. He’s not even looking at me, but I can feel my stomach begin to tie itself up in knots.
I’m so screwed.
He wears a black leather jacket and a dark shirt underneath, dark jeans that look like they’ve seen better days, and boots that look like they could help him kick anyone’s ass.
“I know you have a voice. I’ve just heard you answer damn near every question asked for the last two hours. Or did you trade your voice for the answers?” he asks, huffing a laugh, and, fuck me, his voice. I can’t even bring myself to be upset that he’s teasing me between his smile and the way he sounds.
“Does it matter if it was taken, considering you’re already sitting in it?” I ask, the words slipping out with my usual sass before I can stop them.
Jordan says my sass is a defense tactic, and he’s right-ish; it’s also second nature at this point. I mostly stick to myself, but I’vehad enough people make fun of me and try to take advantage of the quiet, smart girl that I learned to bite back enough for them to leave me alone—mostly.
Reaching into his coat, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before putting one in his mouth and lighting it. His smile never wavers, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been more jealous of an inanimate object.
“I could leave if ya want, Blondie,” he says, his words slightly muffled from holding his cigarette as he reaches out to tug on my long braid.
He doesn’t actually make any moves to get up, but I find that I don’t really want him to.
