The Best Part of Hello [sample]

01

PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS NOT THE FINAL COPY OF THE PUBLISHED BOOK AND HAS NOT BEEN EDITED.

Dedicated to ishanna, who is honestly the nicest person you'll ever meet.

Trailer on the side is made by inexcusable!

Chapter One

LATELY, I have been thinking a lot about choices.

Not the ones I make, but the choices people around me seem to be making. For instance, why Susy Donovan thinks it is okay to pick her toenails on this plane journey to Italy, her bare feet on the seat as her nail clippers snap the ends of her toenails off. But more importantly, why Evan Winters believes my armrest is his pillow.

"You're doing it again," I moan over the loud rumble of turbulence that throws me against the window. My book falls from my hands and lands next to Evan, who has propped his jacket up on the armrest and is lying awkwardly on it, his long legs tucked under the seat, rather than in front. He doesn't bother replying but makes a point of adjusting his position and closing his eyes. It's early morning and I know I should be asleep, but between the turbulence and Evan's tickly coat, it's pretty much impossible.

"Hello, move your coat to the other side," I say again, flicking the top of Evan's forehead. His immediate reaction is to tense up and he opens one eye, looking up at me but he's upside down. I'm leaning over him, so his face looks funny. His eyes are wonky from this position and his nose sticks out so far, I can see inside his nostrils, it's pretty gross. But the more I look, the more I notice all his other features. He's got full lips, the type of ones that people with fillers would be jealous over and a thick band of eyelashes that makes me jealous.

"I can't move it there," he replies gruffly, opening the other eye.

"And why ever not?"

"Because that side gives me a headache. I can't lie like that without waking up with a dodgy neck." He complains.

"Your neck will be the least of your worries if you don't move," I threaten, though it's weak and holds little meaning to it - I know I couldn't even punch my way out of a paper bag.

Evan begins laughing, and I can tell in his eyes he's recounting the experience himself. "Do you remember...God, when was it...fifth grade and when you tried punching your way out of a paper bag?" he chuckles. Susy Donovan – who, until this very second – has been very intent on her toenails, looks over at the two of us and frowns as if we are the problem here.

"I did no such thing," I lie, but I'm trying to snuffle a giggle. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, give over," Evan snorts, "I remember it. You were standing on your front porch with that grocery bag and who was it—"

"Toby Rhinestone," we both say together.

"Yeah," he carries on. "Toby told you that your muscles were as weak as a floppy fish because you couldn't carry those two bags in. I remember you trying to punch the inside of this bag and all you did was dent it a bit," Evan laughs again, looking at me quizzically. "I mean, it was made of paper, Kayla."

"Shut up," I nudge him off my armrest. "I wasn't exactly trying to prove a point."

"Whatever you say," he holds his hands up and moves his coat. "But try avoiding the physical threats when you know the only thing you can damage is the inside of a paper bag."

"You never stop talking, do you?" It comes out more like a question rather than a statement. I see Evan hold his grin, an expression of sheer amusement laced over every feature of his face. Since he is sitting up, his hair has gone matted and seems a darker shade of brown in this light. He tries fixing it in the reflection on the plane window, but it gets him nowhere.