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“She’s barely awake,” another voice says.
Only this voice is different.
Higher.
That’s the last coherent thought that flits through my brain before I’m sucked back into the darkness and swallowed up.
Delilah and Austin’s story continues in Princess of Hawthorne Prep
Pre-order Princess of Hawthorne Prep here -)
https://books2read.com/princessofhawthorneprep
See where it all began in King of Hawthorne Prep with Summer and Kingsley.
KING OF HAWTHORNE PREP
My gaze wanders over the water as white-capped waves roll rhythmically toward the sandy shore. When the wind picks up, a warm breeze rustles through my hair, and I tip my face toward the sun before stretching.
Could life get any better than this?
Doubtful.
A family friend was kind enough to let us borrow their beach house in Door County for the week. Mom and Dad surprised us with the impromptu vacation a few days before we were supposed to leave.
The house we’re staying at isn’t like one of the newly renovated million-dollar monstrosities that flank us with their gargantuan square footage, swanky pools, and perfectly groomed lawns. But it’s steps from the beach and has breathtaking views of Lake Michigan. At just fifteen hundred square feet, this house has three cramped bedrooms, an outdated kitchen, and a ton of seashell décor. Even so, there’s something charming about it.
Sweat beads my forehead as I haul myself from the chair I’m sprawled on and saunter to the water’s edge. It might look asinviting as the Caribbean cast in varying shades of cerulean and turquoise, but it doesn’t feel like it. Especially when my skin has been crispifying for hours beneath the sweltering sun.
A breath hisses from my lips as the frigid liquid rushes past my ankles. The first couple of steps are the worst. As soon as numbness sets in, it gets better. Braving the water, I continue forward as the waves swirl around my calves. I do a little dance, bouncing up and down on my toes, trying to get used to the cold as it sinks into my bones.
I force myself to move deeper until the water reaches my hips.
It’s now or never.
With that brief pep talk, I suck in a breath and dive beneath a wave as it peaks and curls. Water rushes around me, instantly chilling my overheated flesh. After a moment, I break through to the surface and expel the lungful of air from my body.
It’s easier to submerge myself the second time as I dive to the bottom before trailing my fingers through the fine-grained sand in search of clamshells. When my lungs burn, I pop up again before floating on the surface so the sun can warm my skin. With my eyes closed, I stretch my hands and legs, allowing the waves to rock my body. My mind drifts as the rhythmic motion lulls me to a contented place. Every once in a while, I lift my head and search for our little blue one-story cottage to make sure I haven’t drifted to far down the shore.
My plan is to make the most of our little beach vaca before returning to Chicago next weekend. There’s so much that needs to be accomplished before senior year begins in the fall.
A couple of months ago, I registered for an introductory astronomy class at a local university about thirty minutes from the house. Next on the agenda are campus visits. I’ve scheduled tours for the University of Chicago, Northwestern, and the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. My three dreamschools have impressive astronomy programs. To round out the summer, I’ve snagged a volunteer position at the Adler Planetarium. I’m scheduled to start next Monday at nine o’clock sharp.
Long after my fingers turn pruney, I drag myself from the water. As I trudge toward shore, a bleached clamshell glints in the sunlight from the bottom and catches my attention. Stilling my movements, I bend over to inspect it. A wave crashes over me, stirring up the sand and covering the shell. Once the debris settles, I turn, brushing my fingers across the bottom until they land on it again.
“Nice view.”
I yelp and swing around, straightening to my full height only to come face-to-face with the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen. My breath gets lodged at the back of my throat as his mahogany-colored eyes pierce mine with unwavering intensity. Rooted in place, it’s all I can do to take in the thick slashes of his eyebrows before my gaze slides to the slant of high cheekbones, and then on to a perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth.
Damn.
He’s seriously hot.
Like...way out of my leaguehot.
My heart riots painfully against my chest as I continue to stare. His brows rise as humor sparks to life in his eyes.
Is he waiting for a response?
