CHAPTER 1
REGAN
I’m going to spray paint that cheating bastard’s car.
I’m not proud of it.
Well, maybe a bit.
But Kieren Foley deserves so, so much worse for what he did to me.
I hurry down a quiet Brooklyn street at two in the morning. It’s Tuesday night so there aren’t many people out this late. I’m in all black, dark jeans, matching sweatshirt, and my hood’s pulled up to cover my wavy brown hair. A messenger bag bumps against my hip.Nothing to see here, just a shady looking girl hurrying down the street, perfectly normal.
Not that anyone cares in New York City. People do weirder shit all the time.
But I can’t help the nervous energy pulsing through me. I’ve never, ever,everdone anything like this before. All my life I’ve been a good person, to the point of obsession. I got straight A’s in school, captained the debate club, played field hockey, joined thestudent newspaper, got perfect grades at NYU, and graduated with honors. It got to the point where my little brother Luke calls me Saint Regan to my face and Boring Regan behind my back.
I used to think he wasn’t being fair, but now I wonder if maybe he was right.
Maybe I wasted my stinking life getting an accounting degree, dating the same guy since high school, planning every single little detail of every single stupid day, down to the minute, creating spreadsheets, leaving myself Post-its all over the apartment, and maybe it’s my fault?—
No Regan, stop it, nobody made Kieren fuck Vera Baranov in your bed, nobody except for him.
I have to stop to catch my breath. My heart’s racing and sweat breaks out across my skin. Every time I think of that moment— the closed door, the huffs, grunts, moans, the sound ofher saying his name, knowing what they were doing and still being unable to stop myself from looking inside and seeing it with my own eyes—my body feels like it’s going to fall apart.
Panic rolls down my skin in electric tingles.
It’s like the way I used to react to my father’s anger, back when I was little.
Back before I learned how to live the right way.
Get it together.
I march on, more determined now.
Screwing Vera was bad enough. I never liked her one bit. She was the popular girl, a cliche, but even better. Blonde, beautiful, cheerleader, but also brilliant, well-liked, and kind. She wastalented, funny, and outgoing. We weren’t friends exactly, but we took all the advanced classes together, and I didn’t hate it when we were assigned to do group projects. Vera was always so stinkinglikeable.
And really hot.
We could never be friends though. Not in a million freaking years. Not when her last name wasBaranovand mine wasCorrigan.
Not when her family and my family despise each other.
No, banging a hot Russian girl is bad, but the real problem is what Kieren fucking hermeans.
I come to a stop outside of the parking garage where he keeps his precious car. The old BMW he obsessively restored back in college and keeps in immaculate condition. Boxy, shiny, and cool as heck, if I’m being honest. It’s fussy and a pain, but Kieren loves that thing so much. I used to joke it’s like his second girlfriend.
Now I’m thinking it was more like his third.
I slip inside the structure. It’s cool with all that concrete around. My footsteps echo and I force myself to focus on the task at hand. I tug a surgical mask over my face and slip a pair of fake glasses over my eyes. The rims are dark and thick. I don’t know if there are security cameras in here, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least try to hide my identity.
And there she is. Kieren’s beamer, right where he always parks it, in that overpriced spot he says is worth every penny. Lucky me, there’s no other vehicle to its right.
I drop the messenger bag, glance around, and take out a can of white paint.
I shake it, heart leaping into my throat.
Am I seriously going to do this? I pictured it a thousand times on the way over here. I imagined drawing a huge dick on his hood, writingcheaterandliarandfuckerall over the doors and windows. But now that I’m standing here, shaking the can and listening to the plastic ball clack around, I’m starting to have second thoughts.
