Prologue
REMI-Summer Before College • 15 Years Ago . . .
“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Something you don’t know about me?” I can hear the smile forming on her lips even though I can’t see her face.
“Yes, YOU. You’re the only other human out here for miles.” I reach down and smack her thigh that’s next to mine. Her feet are by my head and mine are by hers as we lie in the bed of my Chevy Silverado and stare up at the stars. This place is our hideout. It’s a small overlook about 15 minutes outside town. It’s the place we always run to when we just want to get away or sneak some of our parents’ booze. We’ve been coming to this spot since I got my license almost three years ago.
“You already know everything about me,” she says, exhaling a small puff of air through her nose.
“I know most things about you, but there’s gotta be something you haven’t told me. Come on, think . . . this is one of our last nights together before you ditch me for college.”
I try not to sound salty. I’m so happy for August—that she got into the marketing program at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor. It’s the top in the nation and she worked her ass off through high school. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad or maybe worried. August has been my best friend for the last four years—my ride or die—and now I’m about to lose her. I’ll just be that guy she grew up with back in her small hometown. The guy she sees as her brother. I swallow down the word as if it’s left a bitter taste in my mouth. I want so much more than to just be August Belmore’s best friend, but I’ve always been too chickenshit to tell her how I really feel. But all that changes tonight.
“Oh! So—” her response interrupts my thoughts and brings me back to the reality of what we were talking about. I sit as she props herself up on her elbows and stares down at me with a big grin on her face. “My mom almost named me Abilene.”
“What?” I’m actually surprised she was able to come up with a fact I didn’t know about her. “And how’d they end up with August instead?”
“So my mom is originally from Texas, ya know. She was born in Abilene, hence the name, and then they moved to Colorado when she was nine. She always had fond memories of her time in Texas, but my dad hated the name or something. So they both ended up agreeing on August since I was born in August. Real original, I know.” She lies back down and places her hands behind her head.
I take the moment to watch the moonlight bounce across her alabaster skin. She looks like an angel. I may only be 18, but I’ve known that August was my forever since we were in seventh grade. I want to talk to her—to tell her what she means to me and how I feel. I want to hear her say she feels the same way about me: that all these years, we’ve both been secretly pining for each other.
“Still better than Remington,” I say instead, breaking the spell for fear that she might tell me I’m crazy and run away.
“Your parents ever come to an agreement on if it’s after the ammunition company or the Pierce Brosnan character?” she asks, pulling herself up to face me.
“Nah, that’ll be one of those ongoing family fights that they take to the grave.”
She giggles, pulling her knees into her chest as she reaches for another Mike’s Hard Lemonade that I stole from my dad’s beer fridge.
We’ve both had a few and I can feel the buzz settling in nicely. The air mattress in the bed of my truck feels soft and comforting, and even though the sun set hours ago, there’s still a nice warmth to the summer breeze.
“So you ready to move away? Be a college woman and all that?” I know I sound like I’m trying to avoid asking her what I actually want to ask her and she can see right through it. I take a long pull on my now-warm lemonade, finishing it off and tossing the bottle back into the cooler.
“Hey,” she says, reaching forward and grabbing both of my hands in hers. She scoots closer so our knees are touching. “I’m not going to forget about you if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re always going to be my best friend.”
Her green eyes are big, sincere. They’re locked on mine, but then they drop briefly to my lips before moving back up. I think I see a slight blush appear on her cheeks when she realizes I noticed. This is the moment; it’s now or never. I release one of my hands from hers while I use the other to pull her toward me as I snake my free hand around her neck.
Our lips touch and it’s like time stands still for just a second. I press my lips softly against hers, waiting and praying she doesn’t push me away. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I finally move my lips against hers. I feel like I’m drowning and paralyzed at the same time while fireworks explode behind my eyelids, which are squeezed shut. I angle my head to deepen the kiss as my other hand twists into her long, silky dirty-blonde hair. I’m waiting for the realization to hit her that it’s me kissing her before she slaps me, but it never comes.
No, instead she’s kissing me back with little moans escaping her lips as she starts to crawl into my lap. I can’t tell if I’ve fallen asleep in the truck—if perhaps this is all just a dream—but I don’t want to wake up and find out.
We make out for what feels like hours, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths, and our lips not getting enough of one another. I slowly release my hand from her hair before resting it on her thigh, the heat of her skin burning through her jeans. I want to explore her—to touch every inch of her—but I don’t want to scare her away. I’m debating whether I should drag my hand up her thigh and beneath her skirt when she reaches down and pulls off my sweatshirt and T-shirt in one quick move.
Our kiss is broken and she’s straddling me, staring down at me. Her eyes are glistening with something . . . lust? Desire?
“Are you sure?” I choke out as she drags her nails down my bare chest before settling her fingers on my belt. She doesn’t speak—just nods her head slowly as she bites down on her bottom lip.
Fuck me, I’m done for.
“Wait, I need—” I’m trying to get the words out, but it’s so hard when she’s reaching beneath the waistband of my jeans and palming my cock. I feel like I’m about two seconds from exploding in my jeans, and that’s the last fucking way I want to remember this night.
“Protection,” I say as I quickly stop her from going further. I jump down out of the truck bed and fling the passenger-side door open. I open the glove box and pray that I still have a few condoms left. I see two and grab them both before jumping back into the bed where August is pulling her shirt off over her head.
I stop dead, completely mesmerized by her beautiful tits encased in a hot pink bra with black and white leopard-print straps. Out of nowhere, a pit forms in my belly at the thought of Matty Edwards getting to see her like this.
Fucking Matt Fucking Edwards. He was her boyfriend for all of junior and most of senior year. A walking sack of testosterone with shit for brains. Yeah, I didn’t like him because August was dating him, but he was also a complete tool. The type that would brag about the other girls he’d banged or how hot his ex was or all the numbers he got over the weekend. I tried telling her about him, but the conversations always ended in a fight—that is, until she actually caught him with his head between Natalie Burrows’ tits in the front seat of his car.