CHAPTER ONE
Today is a beautiful day. I’m lying on a chaise out by the pool, reading a romance book and listening to music. It’s like I’m living a dream yet, somehow this has become my life. The sun’s hot, the air smells like coconut from our suntan lotion, and, thankfully, there’s a breeze that makes the heat tolerable. We’re teenagers. We live to torture ourselves by lying in the sun to get a tan that makes us look sexier. Audrey says if she’s tan, her freckles don’t stand out as much. I’m not sure that’s true. She’s got a lot of freckles but, somehow, they make her look even prettier.
This book is pretty far-fetched—clichéd. I mean, seriously, who falls in love with a hero like this? He’s a total dick. Every time he speaks, I want to cut out his tongue. Harsh? Yeah, but he is cruel and heartless. Oh, and he’s a manwhore. Why would anyone want to waste their time on a guy like that?
I guess I can maybe sorta see the appeal. The whole “bad boy” thing. But it’s not something I even need to worry about. I’m not necessarily a nerd, per se… I just prefer to hang out with fictional characters than interact with real people. Bad boys don’t look twice at girls like me. I’m shy around guys… and awkward, definitely awkward. I’m not bad to look at—at least, I don’t think so. My friends tell me I’m pretty, so I must look okay. I’ve got long, brown wavy hair and green eyes. I’m five feet, four inches tall, and I weigh one fifteen. I’m average.
I don’t know. The whole “bad boy” vibe always hits me wrong. Maybe I’m jealous. Maybe I subconsciously want the bad boy to fall for the odd one like me. If that’s what’s going on with me, I need to have a stern talk with myself. That only happens in fiction. Hot guys—at least, around here—are arrogant pricks who think they’re God’s gift.
And they’re not. Far from it.
I wish I could talk to my friends about things like this, but they already think I’m weird. I’m not boy crazy and I don’t really like socializing. I’ve only lived here in Shell Beach, California, for the last two months and I don’t want them to not be my friends anymore.
I’m not sure how we got to be friends. Somehow, one day at the mall, shopping for outfits to wear in this hot weather, Audrey, who’s about five-nine, long beautiful red hair, and a body full of curves I’ll never have, looked at the outfit I had in my hand and shook her head no. Then Isla walked up, took the outfit and hung it back on the rack. “Over here,” is what she said, then they led me to clothes I’d never in my entire life considered wearing. Ever since that day, my Aunt Ruthie has been their biggest fan.
“We’re going to that party tonight,” Audrey announces from the chaise next to mine, before taking a drink of her water.
“Oh yes, yes we are,” Isla agrees. She’s so excited she’s all but bouncing.
I cringe and say nothing. Another party? No thanks. I’ve been to a few already this summer and they just aren’t my thing. I like the bonfires alright, but the guys, when they get drinking, are no fun to be around.
“All the hot guys are going to be there. It’s both Shell Beach Hall and Academy,” Audrey tells us.
“They’re going to fight. I have no doubt about it,” I declare.
“Of course they are. It’s bad enough the two private schools will be in the same place at the same time, but the jocks got back from their summer camps so it’ll be all hot guys and testosterone overload. They can fight and then we get to soothe them and make it all better,” Isla purrs.
“I’ll pass.”
“Not this time, Jillian,” Audrey declares.
My head snaps toward her. She used my full name. She never uses my full name unless she’s annoyed or going to be a bossy bitch. “What?”
“You’re going.”
“No way. Not my scene,” I remind her.
“Make an exception. You need to get yourself out there. School starts on Monday.”
I groan.
“We’re going to pick your outfit and you’re going to leave that gorgeous hair down instead of your permanent ponytail or messy bun,” Audrey decrees.
“But… I don’t want to. I’d rather stay home and read about this asshole hero—that’s how much I don’t want to go.”
“Too bad,” Isla announces. “You’re going and you’re going to like it.”
“You can’t make me like it.”
“Nope, but we can sure make you go!” Audrey guarantees.
Ugh. Did I say my life was like a dream? Nightmare is more accurate.
They made me shower. I swear, they’d come in here if they didn’t know I’d slap them silly.
The minute I step out of the shower, they’re on me.
“Jeez, let a girl dry off first!” I scold. But really, what’s the point. They’re going to get their way.
