Next to Never
Page 4
He rolls his eyes at me and walks for the driver’s side of his car, Seether’s “Remedy” blasting from inside.
But I can see a hint of a smile under his scowl. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says. And then he jerks his eyes over to the sidewalk where the group of guys is loitering. “And you!” He points to the jerk that was hassling me. “There’s two more of me in this town. Don’t forget it!”
The guy instantly tenses and turns away, trying to act like Jared’s not talking to him. I laugh to myself and stuff the package in my backpack.
Sometimes I hate how my brothers hover. And sometimes I love it.
• • •
After getting home and parking my bike in the garage, I head straight for the kitchen.
My dad is probably still in the city, and my mom is usually out running errands night and day now. Since Madoc is running for mayor, she’d enlisted herself as his event coordinator and is constantly meeting with venues, caterers, musicians . . .
This is the time of day I like best. No one is home, there’s no pressure, and, for a little while, I’m relaxed.
Dropping my backpack on the kitchen counter, I grab a Fresca out of the refrigerator and jog upstairs to my bedroom. I want to get in the pool before someone shows up to distract me.
Slipping on my white bikini and grabbing a towel from the bathroom, I grab my backpack off the counter downstairs along with my drinks and carry everything through the doors leading onto the back patio.
The rush of the waterfall spilling over rocks as it cascades down into the pool immediately relaxes me, and a smile pulls at my lips. When my parents moved us back to Shelburne Falls from Chicago and decided to put in a pool, the waterfall was one of the things on my wish list. It reminded me of the trip to Yosemite our family took when I was eleven. Nearly everyone opted to stay at camp and swim or fish, but Jax, Lucas, and I hiked the Mist Trail, past two waterfalls.
I can still feel the cool spray hitting my arms and legs as we hiked the steps. I can still hear the thunder of the water and feel the force of it rushing past us. And the smell . . .
Evergreens, water, and earth. Like sunrise in a cave.
My dad knew how much I loved the trip and had the waterfall put in, even though I only mentioned it once. He does so much to try to make me happy. And even though we still keep an apartment in Chicago, since my parents have to be there so much and it’s easier than living out of a suitcase in a hotel room, I’ve rarely been back since moving here before freshman year. I’m not a city person.
Taking another sip of soda, I set my stuff down on one of the patio tables, feeling the late afternoon sun warm my shoulders. I dig in my backpack for my iPad, but then pause on the envelope Jared gave me.
I’d nearly forgotten. Pulling it out, I survey the front of the package again, seeing that it’s addressed to me, but it was sent to Jared and Tate’s. That’s weird. I’d never used their address. And there’s no return address, but the postmark reads Toronto. I eye it curiously. I don’t know anyone in Canada.
As soon as I tear away the top of the package and peek inside, I’m hurrying to reach in and pull out the book the envelope contains.
A used book.
It’s a hardcover with a tattered paper cover, the edges slightly torn and curling. Peeking back inside the envelope, I see that there’s nothing else. No note. No business card. Nothing.
Setting the envelope down in confusion, I’m wondering who would send me an old book.
In search of clues, I fan the pages so that the scent of aged paper wafts into my nostrils. The book is in decent shape, but the edges of the pages are slightly tattered, and the spine is broken in.
Closing the book, I read the front cover. Next to Never. There’s no author. That’s strange.
Turning the book over, I scan the back cover, reading the synopsis.
And quickly stop, rolling my eyes. I toss the book back down onto the table.
Romance. While I’m intrigued by who would send me a random book, I don’t care to waste my time.
Instead I walk to the edge of the pool, step in, slowly descending up to my calves, and then my thighs and waist. Pushing off, I dive beneath the surface, completely submerging myself as the cool rush of water soothes my body and caresses my scalp. I pop up through the surface, pushing my hair back, and then return to the edge of the pool, reaching up to grab the envelope again.
Toronto.
Pasha’s in Toronto, I guess. But I’m not close with her, and I don’t get the impression sappy chick novels are her thing. And I don’t know anyone else there, so . . .
In fact, the only other person I know that lives outside of this state is Lucas. I highly doubt, though, he’d send me a romance novel. Especially when he hasn’t kept in touch.
Tossing the envelope down, I reach up and grab my iPad, tapping my finger on the search bar and watching the cursor start blinking. My hands shake for a moment as I hesitate, but then I just start tapping away.
Lucas Evan Morrow.
The blue circle starts spinning, and my heart flips in my chest as my stomach starts to cave. I don’t want to see search results, and the other part of me just wants them to pop up really quickly to get this over with.
I still have time. I can turn off the iPad right now, because the only thing better than knowing is wondering, right? I’m a curious girl, but what if I don’t like what I find? I’d gone all this time without Googling him. I’m happier that way. What if he’s gotten married? Is serious with someone? Has he turned into a jerk with male-pattern baldness and a beer belly? He’s almost thirty now, so what’s the point of obsessing—
But I can see a hint of a smile under his scowl. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says. And then he jerks his eyes over to the sidewalk where the group of guys is loitering. “And you!” He points to the jerk that was hassling me. “There’s two more of me in this town. Don’t forget it!”
The guy instantly tenses and turns away, trying to act like Jared’s not talking to him. I laugh to myself and stuff the package in my backpack.
Sometimes I hate how my brothers hover. And sometimes I love it.
• • •
After getting home and parking my bike in the garage, I head straight for the kitchen.
My dad is probably still in the city, and my mom is usually out running errands night and day now. Since Madoc is running for mayor, she’d enlisted herself as his event coordinator and is constantly meeting with venues, caterers, musicians . . .
This is the time of day I like best. No one is home, there’s no pressure, and, for a little while, I’m relaxed.
Dropping my backpack on the kitchen counter, I grab a Fresca out of the refrigerator and jog upstairs to my bedroom. I want to get in the pool before someone shows up to distract me.
Slipping on my white bikini and grabbing a towel from the bathroom, I grab my backpack off the counter downstairs along with my drinks and carry everything through the doors leading onto the back patio.
The rush of the waterfall spilling over rocks as it cascades down into the pool immediately relaxes me, and a smile pulls at my lips. When my parents moved us back to Shelburne Falls from Chicago and decided to put in a pool, the waterfall was one of the things on my wish list. It reminded me of the trip to Yosemite our family took when I was eleven. Nearly everyone opted to stay at camp and swim or fish, but Jax, Lucas, and I hiked the Mist Trail, past two waterfalls.
I can still feel the cool spray hitting my arms and legs as we hiked the steps. I can still hear the thunder of the water and feel the force of it rushing past us. And the smell . . .
Evergreens, water, and earth. Like sunrise in a cave.
My dad knew how much I loved the trip and had the waterfall put in, even though I only mentioned it once. He does so much to try to make me happy. And even though we still keep an apartment in Chicago, since my parents have to be there so much and it’s easier than living out of a suitcase in a hotel room, I’ve rarely been back since moving here before freshman year. I’m not a city person.
Taking another sip of soda, I set my stuff down on one of the patio tables, feeling the late afternoon sun warm my shoulders. I dig in my backpack for my iPad, but then pause on the envelope Jared gave me.
I’d nearly forgotten. Pulling it out, I survey the front of the package again, seeing that it’s addressed to me, but it was sent to Jared and Tate’s. That’s weird. I’d never used their address. And there’s no return address, but the postmark reads Toronto. I eye it curiously. I don’t know anyone in Canada.
As soon as I tear away the top of the package and peek inside, I’m hurrying to reach in and pull out the book the envelope contains.
A used book.
It’s a hardcover with a tattered paper cover, the edges slightly torn and curling. Peeking back inside the envelope, I see that there’s nothing else. No note. No business card. Nothing.
Setting the envelope down in confusion, I’m wondering who would send me an old book.
In search of clues, I fan the pages so that the scent of aged paper wafts into my nostrils. The book is in decent shape, but the edges of the pages are slightly tattered, and the spine is broken in.
Closing the book, I read the front cover. Next to Never. There’s no author. That’s strange.
Turning the book over, I scan the back cover, reading the synopsis.
And quickly stop, rolling my eyes. I toss the book back down onto the table.
Romance. While I’m intrigued by who would send me a random book, I don’t care to waste my time.
Instead I walk to the edge of the pool, step in, slowly descending up to my calves, and then my thighs and waist. Pushing off, I dive beneath the surface, completely submerging myself as the cool rush of water soothes my body and caresses my scalp. I pop up through the surface, pushing my hair back, and then return to the edge of the pool, reaching up to grab the envelope again.
Toronto.
Pasha’s in Toronto, I guess. But I’m not close with her, and I don’t get the impression sappy chick novels are her thing. And I don’t know anyone else there, so . . .
In fact, the only other person I know that lives outside of this state is Lucas. I highly doubt, though, he’d send me a romance novel. Especially when he hasn’t kept in touch.
Tossing the envelope down, I reach up and grab my iPad, tapping my finger on the search bar and watching the cursor start blinking. My hands shake for a moment as I hesitate, but then I just start tapping away.
Lucas Evan Morrow.
The blue circle starts spinning, and my heart flips in my chest as my stomach starts to cave. I don’t want to see search results, and the other part of me just wants them to pop up really quickly to get this over with.
I still have time. I can turn off the iPad right now, because the only thing better than knowing is wondering, right? I’m a curious girl, but what if I don’t like what I find? I’d gone all this time without Googling him. I’m happier that way. What if he’s gotten married? Is serious with someone? Has he turned into a jerk with male-pattern baldness and a beer belly? He’s almost thirty now, so what’s the point of obsessing—
