“It’s lovely to meet you,” Elsa says, kissing me on both cheeks.
“Nice to meet you too. Thanks for inviting us over.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Ma visibly relaxing, and a smidgeon of guilt rears its head. I love my mum, and I hate that I’m making this harder for her, but I can’t help how I feel, and I don’t want to be here. It’s not like I blameher. No. She’s not at fault. This is all on my dad—hence why I’m not speaking to him.
“I’m sorry we weren’t here to greet you when you first moved in,” Elsa says. Sadness washes over her face. “We were in Sweden half the summer, where I’m from.” That explains the slight accent I detected. “My mamma passed away after a long battle with breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Ma’s face instantly floods with compassion. “I lost my aunt last year to breast cancer.”
“Come inside,” the man says, pulling Elsa aside to let us in.
When we’re all in the house, he closes the door before extending his arm to my father. “I’m Mark Nevan, and Elsa is my wife. Our daughters are outside setting the table.”
Mark looks way older than Elsa. I wouldn’t be surprised if some mistook her for his daughter. Not judging, just making an observation, though it’s possible she looks young for her age, and he looks older for his.
“Anthony Hunt,” Dad says, shaking his hand. “But everyone calls me Tony.”
“I’m Veronica.” Mum beams at everyone. “But my friends call me Roni.” Ma holds out the plate with the cheesecake to Elsa.“We made cheesecake for dessert, and we brought you some traditional Irish breads and cakes.” Da holds up the basket.
“That is so lovely of you.” Elsa beams at Ma, and I can already tell those two are going to be best friends. “It wasn’t necessary at all, but it is much appreciated. Thank you so much.”
“It’s no bother,” Ma says as Elsa takes her arm and leads her down the hallway.
“Elsa and Astrid will devour those in no time,” Mark says, lifting one shoulder for us to follow him after the women.
“Astrid is your daughter?” I blurt before I can stop my mouth from working.
Mark turns to me, arching a brow. “You know her?”
“Assuming there is only one Astrid in town, then yes. We met briefly on Thursday at school.” There is no denying Astrid is Elsa’s daughter. They share the same long blonde hair, gorgeous looks, and slim frame. Though Astrid has her dad’s green eyes, not her mum’s blue ones.
“That’d be my girl.” His proud smile is obvious. “She’s the apple of my eye,” he adds. “My four girls are.” We pass through a large kitchen with glossy wooden presses and speckled cream and brown marble countertops. Da sets the basket on the counter as Elsa puts the cheesecake into the fridge.
Then Mark leads us out through double doors onto a large wraparound deck with a white railing. Their garden extends beyond the deck for ages, and like the front, it’s beautifully manicured with tons of flowers and shrubs. A gazebo with a seated area is tucked away in one of the corners, and in another corner, I spot what looks like some fruit trees and possibly a vegetable patch. Closer to the deck is a trampoline and a large inflatable swimming pool.
“Our guests are here,” Mark announces, striding toward the rectangular gray dining table and chairs. It’s resting on a big blue rug that has a white and blue fish design on it. Large pottedplants full of blossoming flowers are scattered across the deck along with a few loungers on the other side.
Erin clings to my hand more tightly, and I squeeze her smaller fingers, letting her know I’ve got her back.
Astrid’s stunning green eyes widen when she sees me, and my smile is instantaneous. Fuck. She’s even more gorgeous than the other day. Soft golden waves cascade over slim shoulders, her hair blowing gently in the warm summer breeze. Her short white dress is simple, but she makes it look like the most extravagant designer dress. Stopping just above her knee, it showcases her long, tan legs to perfection. Flat, white sandals adorn her feet, but she’s plenty tall without heels. Apart from some lip gloss, she isn’t wearing any makeup, and it’s a refreshing change from the girls back home who plaster themselves in makeup no matter the occasion.
She is the most naturally stunning girl I have ever seen, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since Thursday. Which is an issue because I don’t do this. Girls are a distraction I don’t need and one I’ve never succumbed to. Sure, I’ve been with girls, but it’s only ever been a casual thing. I have never had a relationship, and that’s the way I like it.
I only have room for one passion in my life, and football is it.
A faint blush steals over her cheeks as she smiles at me, and I can’t look away. I’m fucked. I’m so fucking fucked. Avoiding the prettiest girl at school is challenging but not impossible. However, avoiding the prettiest girl when she lives right across the fucking road is damn near impossible, and that’s how I know I’m totally screwed.
3
ASTRID
Iforce myself to lower my eyes to the table as I continue laying silverware beside plates, hoping no one noticed I was staring at Callan. He looks even hotter today if that’s possible. I haven’t spoken to him since lunch on Thursday, but we’ve traded brief hellos when passing one another in the hallways at school, and we’re in the same English class. Most of my other subjects are advanced classes, and he’s not in any of those.
I have goals for senior year, and boys are not part of the plan.
“Astrid.” Dad gestures me forward with a finger curl. “I believe you already know Callan.”
I set the last of the silverware down and walk to my daddy’s side. His arm instantly wraps around me, like always. “Yes, we met at school. It’s nice to see you again,” I say, meeting Callan’s eyes. “I figured your family was the one who had moved into the old Jenkins’ place.”
“You knew the family who lived there before?” his mother, I assume, asks. She’s pretty with auburn hair cut in a stylish bob and a cute green and white summer dress paired with brown wedge sandals.
