Chapter 1
Summer of the promise
My regret seemed to pull me under the water faster than my inability to swim. Drowning with regret was a depressing process. I would have felt embarrassed if I weren’t alone. No one was around to see my struggle to tread water. After a few seconds of attempting to keep my head above the surface, I sank like a weight. The water was almost completely dark because there were only a few working pool lights on the concrete walls. The further I got from the surface, the more thankful I was for being alone.
Silly thing to be grateful for, I know.
But honestly, drowning in private didn’t seem like the worst way to go. I could think of far worse things, like drowning in front of Leo Reyes-Salgado, a guy who’d perfected the art of crooked grins and seeing straight through me.
I suppose it made sense I was currently hallucinating his presence at the community pool once I reached the bottom. The fantasy felt like my mind’s attempt to give me one final tease, one final moment of remorse for all the things I hadn’t confessed to him. I could barely keep my eyes open when I imagined him diving in.
Illusion Leo was strong—way stronger than he looked. Fast, too. He pulled me to the surface just as my lungs started filling with water. Somewhere between the water and his warm embrace, I lost consciousness.
I woke to large, heavy hands doing compressions on my chest. A mouthful of nasty chlorine water forced its way back up my throat. The burning sensation in my lungs was too painful for me to dream, so I concluded this wasn’t my concocted version of heaven.
Well, damn.
I opened my eyes and determined that I would have preferred fake Leo. That one seemed less perfect.
“Please, don’t”—I coughed up the rest of the water in my lungs—“tell anyone you saw that.”
Leo’s hand pressed against my back. Warm fingers brushed up and down my spine to comfort me as I choked up more water. Embarrassment washed over me as he reached over to tuck a few curls behind my ear. I wasn’t used to having this much attention on me. Especially coming from him.
“God, Kira.” His voice was hard, borderline annoyed. When I looked up, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “What the hell? Why are you out here?”
“Isabella let me in.” My throat felt rough as I forced the words past my lips. I coughed a few more times. My chest ached and skin felt cold from the night air. I laid back on the cement and focused my gaze on the stars in the sky, hoping the view would calm my body down. Leo watched me, wordlessly for a moment, before laying down next to me.
“I don’t care who let you in.” He didn’t take his gaze off of me as he spoke. “I care about you nearly drowning… alone. Where did Isabella go?”
My breathing was still erratic. I waved my hand, trying to indicate she left earlier.
“Huh?”
“She told me to lock up,” I wheezed out.
Leo pushed himself up on his elbow and moved his head in my line of sight. His face blocked my already poor view of the Big Dipper. I wanted to shove him out of the way; when he was this close, my heart did extra funny things, and it was already having a tough night as is.
“I wish I could see the stars from here. Light pollution sucks,” I rambled, trying to change the subject because it felt better than addressing the current situation. Leo refused to take my bait. Such a pity.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His eyes were soft, even though there was still anger in his tone. Leo did that often. Or, at least, had been doing that often as of late. Sounding one way while looking another.
“Look at me,” he said when I tried to stare past his face. His brown skin was golden in the nighttime. Beads of pool water dripped from his sharp nose and square jaw. I ignored him.
“Kira, look.” This time, his voice was a plea.
“What?” I tried to keep my expression neutral as we made eye contact.
“Why were you drowning?”
I frowned. “Why do you think?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked,” he snapped. “You scared the crap out of me. The least you can do is answer a simple question. Are you always this difficult?”
My brow furrowed, surprised at the emotion in his tone. Leo rarely spoke to me. In fact, since the beginning of this year, he had become a pro at not giving me the time of day. He did his best to avoid making eye contact whenever I came into a room. If I was lucky, I could get a few words out of him when we were at school—but when we were anywhere else, he seemed to play a game in which I didn’t exist.
The ignoring made me feel a mix of anger and hurt. Made me question what I’d done wrong and how I could fix it.
It hadn’t always been this way. I don’t know why it started. What I do know is I began playing his ignoring game, too, in hopes it’d hurt him like it hurt me. From observing how much fun he had with my brother and all of their other friends, I assumed my silent treatment had no impact on him.
