When Gracie is humiliated after following her best friend's brother to college and finds he's moved on without her, she grows closer to his rival--the captain of his basketball team--the infamous Kalen Rush, and suddenly Gracie wonders just what len...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Things were going good—scarily so.
It only made sense that there was something on the horizon just waiting to fuck it up.
I just never realized that the problem I'd been looking over my shoulder for...never came.
The past few days with Gracie were a dream—something I'd concocted in between the raging nightmares of my father when I was a child, his hands on the plug of my mother's life support machine.
Instead, it was nothing but bright sunny days with syrupy pancakes and the soft strands of her hair falling between the gaps of my fingers like sand in an hourglass.
It was laughing while she rambled on and on about conspiracy theories only being a distraction created by the government, then fending off a pillow attack when I pointed out that her theory was, in fact, a conspiracy theory in itself.
It was catching sight of her profile in the morning light while holding her so tightly to my chest it was a wonder she hadn't woken up just to shove me off of her instead.
I kept waiting for it, too.
For her to push me away, to realize this wasn't what she wanted in the slightest.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Because, surely, I was going to fuck this up somehow, it was only a matter of time.
But maybe she was wanting to revel in this privacy, in this tiny slice of freedom we'd been given for the holidays. Maybe she was giving this so much of a chance because of the anonymity of it all.
Maybe it was all situational, after all.
And maybe I should just take what I can get when it comes to her—take it and soak in as much as she'd be willing to give me.
At the moment, she was looking over at me in the car as I sang along to the radio, a look of wry amusement on her face.
"What?"
"You never told me you were good at singing, too. Leave some talent for the rest of us, why don't you?"
"What, you aren't a good singer too? I bet you have a beautiful voice."
A wicked smile that could've been right at home in the middle of a more charged moment fell upon her lips and she turned the volume up on the radio, clearing her throat dramatically as the sun came streaming in through the windshield to light her up in pure clarity, my heart catching slightly at the sight.
And then she opened her mouth and proceeded to screech along at the top of her lungs to the song while I choked on a laugh.
"You can't be serious right now," I tried to yell out over the music but she kept on going, screaming out the lyrics like a banshee and I couldn't honestly recall a time that I'd laughed as carefree as I had in that moment.
