All Rémy Miller has ever known are lies until someone is able to give him the life changing truth. When studying at Harvard University, his path unexpectedly collides with feisty freshman Céline Martin. Their meeting is not the ideal way to meet som...
With a surge of determination, I instantly head to Rhett's room. Maybe it has something to do with that damn project and he knows where she is.
I knock, calling out his name, but silence greets me.
Pushing open the door, I'm hit with a mess that'd give Marie Kondo a heart attack. Clothes everywhere, books stacked precariously, and papers scattered like confetti. But amidst the chaos, a box labeled project on Rhett's desk catches my eye.
I shouldn't look.
But dammit this whole project seems so intriguing I can't help myself. They have been hiding something and now that something is within reach.
Yet, some things are better left to be unknown.
Céline knows that.
Rhett knows that.
I apparently don't.
But I am about to find out.
I pry open the lid of the box, its hinges creaking softly in protest as if warning me of the Pandora's box I'm about to unleash. Inside lies a pile of files and folders. Amidst the chaos, a photograph catches my eye.
I'm squinting my eyes at the picture, hoping the face would shapeshift into someone different but it doesn't.
I know that face...
What the hell?
It's a picture of my mother, her younger self. But I'd recognize those hollow soulless eyes no matter her age. My fingers trace the contours of her face, all the terrible childhood memories flooding back like waves crashing against the shore trying to take me with it.
But why is this here, in Rhett's room?
Determined to find answers, I sift through the clutter, my hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and dread. News articles catch my eye, accompanied by photographs of another familiar face. The knot in my stomach tightens with each passing second, uncertainty gnawing at my insides like someone slapped a puck trough my chest.
I study the articles, my mind racing to piece together the puzzle laid out before me.
Why would Rhett have all this stuff?
Céline too, it's their damn project, but it seems to me about my life??
Out of frustration a throw a pile of files onto the desk and it accidently hits the keyboard of Rhett's Mac computer, the screen lighting up.
He's so cocky, not even putting a password on his computer.
I shouldn't look through it, but I guess the universe wants me to see something. That something is an email, the subject making my stomach drop, the content of it blowing up a hole underneath my feet before the earth swallows me.
This can't be true?
No?
Nah?
This is a lie?
My heart hammers in my chest while the words blur together.
The next thing I remember is me standing in front of coach Benson's office, about to swing open the door.
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