I smile, my fingers pausing in the middle of typing. Aiden is a strange one. But I bet he wouldn’t run away from me even when he saw how my main characters kept killing each other. It’s like he said—he’s not afraid of the dark.
And there’s a little bit of darkness in all of us. I’m convinced that’s true. We couldn’t shine so brightly as human beings if we never knew the shadows. As a child I never realized that my home life wasn’t normal; I never realized that my mother was only minimally functional. It wasn’t until I got older that those things occurred to me. But just because I didn’t know, just because it seemed perfectly fine to me, doesn’t mean I wasn’t deeply affected by the way I was raised. My upbringing helped shape who I am—dark, light, and everything in between.
Theclack-clack-clackof my typing resumes for a moment, but then it stops again. No matter how much I try to focus, my mind keeps wandering away to other things. Or, rather, one other thing.
The Elites.
I sigh, leaning back in my desk chair and staring at the sloped ceiling. I’ve never heard of a group of friends naming themselves something as ridiculous asElitesin real life. That’s the kind of thing that happens in high school rom coms fromthe nineties. The clique of popular girls with the impossibly thin eyebrows and butterfly clips in their hair might have a name like that.
But a group of kids in Autumn Grove, Idaho?
Of course, whatever else my mom was, she was beautiful. There’s no denying that. She had this beautiful, naturally blonde hair, for one. It was the kind of hair people pay a lot of money to replicate. But she also had blue eyes, delicate features, and a slim figure. She would never talk about her high school days, but I have no doubt she was popular. She probably had the whole world at her feet.
Until I came along, the plus-one she never meant to bring.
But I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m going to do great things in this life of mine. I don’t need to leave a huge legacy; I don’t need to change the world. But I’m going to make my little corner of life a really excellent corner.?*
I stand up suddenly, almost without realizing it, banging my head on the ceiling in the process. My desk is tucked into one corner of the small loft bedroom, and while I can sit and stand easily enough, I do have to be careful to duck.
“Ouch,” I mutter, rubbing the top of my head. I glare at the sloped ceiling. “Rude.” I glance down at my outfit to double check that I’m okay to be seen by Aiden; everything looks fine. I even turned my shirt right side out earlier. Then I spin on my heel and make my way downstairs, my feet thudding heavily on the steps. There’s a strange sense of urgency carrying me, pulling me forward, and I almost trip in my haste. When I reach the living room—where Aiden is now sprawled on the couch, reading a book—I’m out of breath, dragging in the oxygen likeI’m drowning.
“Hey,” I say, panting.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Aiden moves his book away from his face and tilts his head toward me.
And look—I’m only going to say this once. No man has a right to lookthatgood in sweatpants and a t-shirt, okay? When I lounge on the couch, I look like a sloppy starfish. Spread eagle, inelegant, unladylike bordering on indecent. Ibecomepart of that couch.
But Aiden just looks like he’s modeling for any number of companies. The sweatpants industry could use him for sure, as could the publishing industry, and the furniture industry may as well just hire him now and then keep him on retainer.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
“Can I help you?” he says, cocking one eyebrow at me. He looks faintly amused, like maybe he’s noticed me checking him out.
Whatever. I will not be ashamed.
“Yes,” I say. I hurry over, my sock-clad feet slipping across the wood floor, and sit on the couch next to where he’s lying.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he mutters, scooting further into the couch so that I have more room.
“I will, thank you,” I say primly. Then I say, “You’re going to find out that girl’s name, right?”
“Definitely,” he says, turning his gaze back to his book, which he’s holding up in the air.
“You’re going to do it tomorrow?” I say.
“I’m going to do it today, if I can.” He pauses. “Except all I have is the yearbook. I’m going to look through it again in a bit. I’d look again now, but I really need to prep for class.”
“But if you can’t find her today, you’ll find her tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrowmorning, do you think?”
“Yes.”
“Can you call me when you find out who she is?” I say. I know I’m being obnoxious—when I’m trying to read and someone interrupts me, I usually want to smack them—but I need to know. I need to know who this girl is.
Finally Aiden sighs, closes his book with a snap, and looks at me. “Yes,” he says. “I will call you the second I find out. Any other requests?”
