Lyla James and Haiden Lucas are stuck in an endless cycle marked by fated encounters, tainted love, and tragic deaths.
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In one hundred different realities, one thing remains...
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Lyla James was late.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and Lyla was meant to meet Haiden and his group of friends at Iris's—the local diner that every class of seniors had claimed as their own. However, as she sped down the street, turning into the diner's parking lot, Lyla was met with the terrifying reality of an emotion she had not known was available to someone like her: insecurity.
Walking through the glass doors and staring down at the polished white tiles, Lyla couldn't help picking at her clothes, wondering if her dark jeans and white t-shirt were nice enough for an occasion like this. Sirah had assured Lyla that she looked perfectly fine, and though she trusted her closest friend entirely, Lyla couldn't help feeling anxious.
And she hated it.
She had never felt like this before, especially when it came to first impressions—if only because she'd never really been the "new kid". Lyla had never wanted to be liked, nor had she had to want to be liked. It was still crazy to her that she was at Iris's to join other people. As in, she was meant to meet living, breathing people, and she had come voluntarily—an act that was the first of its kind, surely. Nonetheless, she had told a certain amber-eyed boy she would do this, and it was too late to back out now, considering he'd already spotted her.
"Ly!"
Oh, what had she gotten herself into?
Haiden was standing in a booth to her left, surrounded by several people—four seemed like a lot, right? They were all sitting down, facing each other, which made it hard for Lyla to see their faces or even study their clothing in relation to hers.
After the lunch invitation, Lyla had "finally" done her research on Haiden, according to Sirah. She'd explained to Lyla that Haiden's closest friend was named Amil, and the pair were rather well known around Trellis. Sirah had also said that if Lyla had just bothered to keep track of social rank and status at their school, she would know that Haiden and his group of friends were considered, in a way, the elite—a higher class among an institution composed of peasants. Lyla had then proceeded to explain to Sirah exactly where everyone could shove it if they considered her to be, in any way, a peasant.
Now, standing beside her AP biology partner, Haiden threw an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone, this is Lyla."
It may have said a lot, but Lyla decided not to focus on the secret thrill of joy that ran through her at Haiden's introduction. She only knew that "Ly" was for Haiden and Haiden alone.
As the very same boy ran through a full greeting, Lyla began to feel overwhelmed. For Haiden's best friend, it was just a matter of putting a name to a face; Amil had brown skin and even darker hair, and in that, Lyla was sure she was competent enough to recognize him through the remainder of their session at Iris's. For the rest, however, she had half a mind to pull out her phone and start documenting their faces.
