IT’S COLD OUTSIDE TODAY,which isn’t new for Port Orford, but doesn’t make me happy all the same. My teeth shatter, and I spend a solid minute rubbing my palms over the fabric of my worn jeans with a quickness, using the friction to warm my skin.
I’m waiting for my friends, some of whom I graduated from high school with two years ago, and some we’ve picked up along the way. Like Hailey, who is most definitely too mature to be spending time with us runts but loves us anyway.
Uncle Danny has hired me on at his auto shop, which means I can quit my gig at our local diner and therefore can stop smelling like patty melts every damn day. But I don’t start for another two days, which means we’re going toparty.
Courtesy of Cassie, of course. I most definitely do not have the funds to supply alcohol, not with Mom snatching up most of my paychecks, and there’s the inconvenient fact that I’m not twenty-one yet and don’t have a fake ID.
But Cassie—one of those previously mentioned friends from high school—hastwoparents, both doing well by Port Orfordstandards, and has no issue using her beautiful face and full breasts to get what she wants.
I’ve got to love my best friend. She’s the only one who truly knows me, who truly knows what I deal with inside the tiny two-bedroom house my mother owns. The one I unfortunately haven’t had the gall to move out of.
So I stand outside of our favorite local coffee shop in town, Ground Central, and wait for her to arrive. Well, Cassie and everyone else.
I kick at the stray rock that happens to be sitting next to my dirty Vans, and right as I’m about to give up and just head inside—maybe grab us a table or something—a sleek black BMW pulls up and parks across the street.
It takes no effort to know who it is immediately. Very few people in Port Orford drive luxury cars, even if they can afford the monthly payment, andthisluxury car is only seen a few times a month.
The Chastains hardly have a reason to leave their massive estate—not that any of us have ever been inside it. It’s just a known fact that they have everything they need and someone to cater to them constantly.
But one of the Chastains is an active reader, and I spot him at the bookstore across the street at least once a month. And by spot him, I mean that Ioglehim.
For pointers on how to better myself, of course. Absolutely no other reason.
Definitely not because I think he’s the most ethereal being to ever exist, or because his strong, capable hands and lean but taut body could fix every problem that I have. Anddefinitelynot because I think he’s not only smart enough but commanding enough to take control of every aspect of my life and rid me of the terror involved with making my own decisions.
Yeah. The ogling has nothing to do with any ofthatand everything to do with inspiring myself to be better. It would be weird to watch him since so young, eating up every little glimpse of him I can get, all because I’m infatuated with his face, his body, his dominating personality.
Anyway, Atticus Chastain gets out of his BMW in his black slacks and his pressed white button-up, his fingers immediately straightening his cuffs and his head held high. Even here, in the open, dreary street of our little port town, he is domineering and so obviously separate from the rest of us.
Just the way his father is. I’ve only seen the rest of the Chastains a few times; his mother is always very delicate and demure, and his younger brother—Atlas, I think—is taking after her very obviously. And his little sister, so cute and excitable as she trails after them, full of energy.
But Atticus, he’s just as strong and manly as his father is. Built to rule empires and crush hearts.
I watch as he enters the bookstore, seeing him observe one of the shelves by the front-facing glass window with purpose.
If I could, I would speak to him. If my own cowardice and feeling of inadequacy could take the back seat for a single moment, I would approach where he’s browsing and strike up a conversation.
But comeon, this guy is intimidating. And insanely hot.
I meandifferent.
I’m startled from my thoughts as I hear a high-pitched shout. “Cam!”
Looking away from the bookstore and to the sidewalk to my right, I spot Cassie approaching, wrapped in a pink raincoat and grinning ear-to-ear.
“Hey, Cas,” I call back, taking her in my arms as she reaches me.
“I gotsomuch booze. We are celebrating this new job like there is no tomorrow!” She’s warm against me, a familiar and safe presence as I breathe in her floral perfume.
“Fuck yeah,” I reply as she takes a step back.
“What were you staring at? You looked entranced.” She follows my previous line of sight, straight to where Atticus still stands in the window.
I flush, shrugging a little too quickly. “Nothing! Just… observing people, I guess.”
Cassie makes a low, whistling noise. “I’d observe himany day.”
“Who?” I play oblivious, my eyes immediately tracking the man in the bookstore once more.
