Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I hate myself for doing this.
Shit, I should never have gone down that road in the first place. I should have known Rose would get the wrong idea, thinking this is more than it could ever be. Becky, one of my best friends, has been telling me for years that Rose has a thing for me, but did I listen? Of course not. Add one too many beers, and having those dark eyes shining brightly in the light of the bonfire one night earlier this summer made me think it’d be a good idea to kiss her.
A little kiss never hurt no one.
Well, wrong.
“Is this the part where you tell me I’m too good for you?”
Of course, she’d think that; after all, she’s Rose Hathaway. The mayor’s daughter, a cheerleader, and the prettiest girl in town. Any other guy would kick me in the balls just to have her on his arm. But I’m not that guy.
“Something like that.” I scratch at the nape of my neck. “I really am sorry, Rose. It was never my plan to hurt you.”
Rose sniffles softly, then nods. She tries to smile, but it falls flat. “I guess I should have realized this would happen when you spent the last few weeks ignoring me. But I kept telling myself you were busy with the ranch and then the start of practice.”
“You deserve a better guy than me, Rose.”
She shoves me away lightly, lifting her chin up. “Damn right, I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room. See you later?”
“Later,” I whisper as I watch her walk away. I feel like shit for hurting her feelings, but I know it isn’t right to lead her on any more than I already did.
In a hurry, she almost crashes into Becky and Miguel, who’re turning the corner.
“Hey, watch out!” Becky yells, glaring after her.
Nobody would guess that those two used to be best friends when we were younger. I’m not sure what happened, but one day they just stopped hanging out.
“What the hell’s her problem?” Sighing, Becky turns to me. “Did you break her heart or something?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from making a face, but of course, she sees it because this is Becky we’re talking about. She and Miguel are the siblings I never had. I think she can sniff me bluffing from miles away.
“Oh my God! You did!” She punches me in the bicep. “What the hell did you tell her?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to Miguel, who’s typing something on his phone. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew something like this would happen when I saw them hooking up at that party. Rose is so clingy, bless her heart. You kissed her, and she probably saw wedd—”
“Can you slow down?” I shake my head at her. “Seriously, Becs, breathe. And no more talking about Rose. You know I don’t gossip.”
Sighing, I turn around, and both my best friends fall right into step behind me.
“Oh please, you like to think that, but you guys are bigger gossips than all of us girls combined. It’s a proven fact.”
Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll get the memo? Yeah, right. Fat chance of that happening. Still, it’s worth a try.
“Proven by who?” Miguel asks from the other side.
“One really smart woman, I’m sure.”
I pretend to listen to her as she tells us all the things that guys do wrong as we go down the hallway. I need to grab my books before homeroom starts, but as I’m scanning the lockers to find mine, somebody crashes into me, knocking the air out of my lungs.
I try to reach for them, but it’s too late; they’re already on the floor.
I open my mouth to apologize, but when I look down, I’m left breathless.
She is here.
Chapter Two
KATHERINE
“Here’s your schedule, my dear. And here’s the map of the school grounds.”
Mrs. Burke, that’s how she introduced herself, slides both across the counter toward me. She’s an older lady, probably in her late fifties or early sixties. With her short, almost fluffy gray hair, a bright pink suit, and a row of pearls around her neck, she gives me Betty White vibes.
“Junior lockers are in the west wing.”
My brows shoot up, but I keep quiet as she indicates the place that I guess is supposed to be said wing to me. When I was walking up to the school, it seemed pretty tiny compared to some of the schools I went to in California, but what the hell do I know?
“Your locker number and combination are in the folder.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Burke,” I say as I grab the folder off the counter and put it on top of the books I’ve been carrying.
I need to get my ass to the west wing; otherwise, I’ll have to drag all these things around for the rest of the day, and that’s not an option. My shoulders already ache from all the extra weight.
“If that’s it, I’ll go and get myself situated.”
“Well…” Mrs. Burke looks toward the door and then back at me. “There was supposed to be a student from our welcome committee to show you around, but I guess she’s late.”
First west wing and now welcome committee?
Are these people for real? As if I don’t draw enough attention all on my own. Why don’t we just write “new kid” across my forehead and be done with it?
“That’s okay.” I force out a smile. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
After all, this isn’t my first rodeo.
When we got to Bluebonnet Creek, Texas, the welcome sign read a little over ten thousand inhabitants. Seriously, how big of a school can this be?
She blinks, looking a little bit lost. “Are you? I’m sure she’ll be here…”
“No, it’s fine really. I need to get these to my locker.” I lift my hands in the air so she can see the stack of books I’m carrying. “I don’t want to be late to class on my first day.”
Mrs. Burke pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess you’re right. Well, have a great day, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Burke, you too.”
With another smile I don’t actually feel, I turn around and go for the door.
The hallway is buzzing with activity, animated chatter and laughter echoing against the tiles as friends reunite after the summer.
Maybe that would have been me in another lifetime, but as it is, we moved so much in the last few years, I got used to packing my things and starting over—not that it actually got easier.
West wing. West wing.
I look left and then right.
Why do people insist on using east and west? Wouldn’t left or right be easier? It’s not like I have a compass, for God’s sake! Do they even make those things any longer?
Huffing, I turn left.
How hard could it be?
“Oh, damn it.”
Shifting my books to my left hand, I flip open the folder on top of it and try to pull out the map Mrs. Burke put inside, but of course, the dang thing gets stuck.
I tug harder.
“Gimme a bre—”
I don’t get to finish because I connect with a wall.
No, not a wall.
A living, breathing…
I try to defy gravity, but the backpack full of books that’s hanging off my shoulder is stronger than me. It pulls me back, making me fall to the floor. The books I’ve been carrying in my hands fall down, some landing on the floor while others fall over me, knocking the air out of my lungs.