Prologue
Then
I leanedinto Grace’s side and whispered, “What about him? He’s cute, right?”
She glanced at a sophomore guy drifting past on a skateboard. “I give him a five out of ten.”
“Harsh. What about that guy?”
“That’s Mr. Miller, dork. He teaches geometry! Ew!” Grace elbowed me, and I cackled so loudly a few other freshman girls turned and stared as they crossed the parking lot.
“Okay, okay. But you’re making this really difficult. How am I supposed to find you a date for our first homecoming?”
“Youdon’t even have a date, Piper.”
“I am not the issue here.” I twisted on the bench, crossing my legs. “How about Trey Finley? I saw him checking you out in the hall.”
“He’s a second-year senior and wolf-whistles any time a girl bends over to pick up a pencil.” Grace stuck out her tongue, and I did the same back.
“Older guys are hot, though,” I said. “Come on. You have to have a crush on someone. Zach Kirby? He’s cute.”
But good-girl Grace was having none of it. “Nope. I have too much homework for boys.”
I groaned, almost falling off the bench, which made her laugh. “Fine then,” she said, giggling. “Who’syourcrush?”
Guilt zinged in my stomach.
I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Mr. Miller. He’s totally an eight out of ten. That tweed blazer? Yum. Think he’ll be chaperoning at the dance?”
Grace sighed. “Piper Landry. I know you’re kidding, but seriously. What am I going to do with you?”
Being best friends with Grace O’Neal had never been a conscious choice on my part. It had been as natural as breathing.
Her family had lived across the street from my family for our whole lives. Grace was there in all my earliest memories. In all the good things about growing up in Silver Ridge, Colorado, our small mountain town.
In the bad things, too. Like her mom dying and her dad taking off. Or when my mom was on a bender and I had to drag her home from some dive bar.
Good times.
There was only one thing I couldn’t tell Grace, and that was the identity of my real crush.
My stupid, impossible, embarrassing crush.
What would Grace think if I confessed my obsession with her oldest brother, Grayden? A man who was eleven years older than me and my own brother’s best friend?
I was beyond pathetic.
“How about we forget about the stupid homecoming dance,” she said, “and go get cherry limeades.”
I nodded sagely at her. “You really are a genius.”
“Thank you for acknowledging that.”
We both grabbed our backpacks. Grace tugged me away from Silver Ridge High and down the sidewalk, heading toward Main. My arm looped with hers.
It was a Monday afternoon, with the rest of the week looming ahead of us, but at least we were together.
A few minutes later, we had a corner table at the coffee shop with glasses of icy cherry limeade in front of us, extra cherries.
