So far, everything looks good. The only problem... That one night with Dane cemented my feelings for him. I love him. Need him. Want him as more than just a friend.
I've finally decided to do it, though I'm still a little bit chicken. Instead of professing my undying love to him to his face, I wrote a letter. I'm more articulate on paper anyway.
If he loves me, or if he even wants to try to love me, all he has to do is respond. I won't bug the hell out of him or ever mention this again. I'll always be his friend no matter what he says, but I'm putting the ball in his court by laying all my feelings out there for him to have or reject.
Everyone is meeting with me to eat at Beach Grill one last time before I leave for college tomorrow. We've already set up schedules to make sure we see each other as much as humanly possible.
When I pull up to Beach Grill, I spot Dane's BMW. The top is up, thankfully, and I have the spare set of keys to unlock it. Before I lose my nerve, I open the door and gently place the letter on his seat, and then lock it back.
I stare through the window at the folded sheets of paper for a minute, half cringing/half giggling. This could be incredible or disastrous—depending on how he feels. I know he cares about me. I know he's attracted to me. So he has to say yes. Right?
Everyone in the entire school thought we were dating from the time we were thirteen. He always touches me more than anyone else does, further proving I'm not imagining the fact this is deeper than just a friendship.
Shrugging off all the doubts, I walk away, eager to meet my Sterling boys. The boys are already waiting outside the front doors—like always—when I walk down the steps leading to the beachfront restaurant. They never get a seat without me. I always get first pick at where I want to sit down at our table. I'm not sure why they started that, but it always works out the same—I'm next to Dane.
Speaking of Dane...
"Hey," he murmurs as he makes his way toward me, wearing his khaki shorts, his blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his dazzling smile.
Butterflies ruffle, my smile tugs, and his arms wrap around me as he pulls me in for the first hug of the night. I'm sure we'll be dealing out a bunch of them before we all split up.
"Damn," he groans, pulling me closer. "I'm going to miss the hell out of you. Tell your parents you want to go to college here."
I smile against him as tears fill my eyes.
"I want to, but I want away from them. Come to Hudson instead."
He chuckles as he pulls back and kisses me softly on the lips, making my heartbeat speed up to the point I'm worried it'll explode. But the chaste kiss is all I get.
"I would, but my mom needs me here. I'll see you on every holiday break and numerous weekends though. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."
My grin grows to be embarrassing, and he tucks me under his arm as we make our way toward the restaurant. The boys whistle and send out catcalls when they see me. They've been trying to build up my confidence ever since the mastectomy and reconstruction.
They work hard.
"Daaamn," Maverick drawls, letting his gaze playfully rake over me in my sundress.
I roll my eyes while swatting at him, but I suppose this really is the first time I've ever worn a dress. Ever. Wow. That's sad.
"Shit," Dale says through a cough as his eyes roll down my legs, taking it all in.
I blush fiercely because their acting becomes too much. I love them for trying, but it's exaggerated overkill.
A few guys from school look our way, letting themselves appraise me from afar, which is curious—considering they never once noticed me much at school.
Of course, I was always in an oversized uniform instead of a tight sundress.
As we walk through the doors, Dane's fingers lace with mine, and I lean into him, enjoying the feel of his body against mine. I pray he calls me the second he reads that letter. If not, my heart is going to shatter.
Chapter 1
Present Day
RAIN
"I can't believe you're going back to Sterling Shore," Vivian, my personal assistant whines. "It's not fair."
"It's either that or never write again—obviously. I'm desperate, Viv."