Page 1 of Myself

PROLOGUE

BECCA

Sit down!

Shoulders back!

Chin up!

Ankles crossed!

That’s what I heard when I was younger. The older I got, the more rules I had.

Always smile! A man won’t like you if you’re frowning. Chew with your mouth closed. Don’t let your teeth scrape across your fork. Never leave the house without makeup and your hair fixed.

And those were mainly common sense. But I found myself trapped so many times. Ever seen Titanic? Yeah, I felt like Rose almost every day of my life. I never contemplated jumping off the back of an ocean liner, but then again, we’ve never been on one crossing the North Atlantic. Instead, I spent time in my bedroom crying into my pillow. Or sitting in the shower with the water running.

My days were full of nothing but one lesson after another. I would go to school and then go straight home for my piano lesson. Then I had to go to the country club for my tennis lessons, followed by violin lessons. Monday, Thursday, and Saturday, I had ballet. By the time I would arrive home, it would be late, and I would need to do my homework and try to fit in something for dinner.

I know what you’re thinking—aww, poor girl. You had it so rough—sarcasm. But as if that wasn’t enough, my mother added etiquette classes two days a week because she wanted me to be a respected debutant. Your life did not have a purpose unless you married a man with money. It didn’t matter to her that I already had my own. I would receive my trust fund at twenty-five unless I married before then—stipulations and all that.

My brother and I attended a prestigious school in New York. And while attending, I had to take a different foreign language each year. I’m not gonna lie; I barely passed them. I didn’t understand why I had to learn Latin. I mean it’s a dead language. My mother said that a man likes a well-versed woman, and when he travels for business, knowing the language will make me look like more than just a trophy wife.

I have to admit that was the only thing I liked about all the shit she made me do. And I know why she pushed it. She is a trophy wife. The truth is my father knocked up my mother, and they got married. Six months later, my brother was introduced to the world. I came seven years after that. The older I got, the more I thought I was the baby supposed to save their marriage. I’m not sure it helped.

My father came from money, and my mother met him one night while out with friends. She says it was at a Christmas Gala, but you can’t believe much of what she says. She’ll never admit it. She wants all her wealthy friends to think that she came from wealth as well.

I’ve heard her lie to her friends to make her stories paint her in a better light. Like that one time, I placed fifth in a spelling bee, and she told all her friends I had come down with the flu and wasn’t able to attend at all. Yeah, she wasn’t one of those parents who gave you a pat on the back and said good job even though you sucked. You were lucky if she even showed up and she would voice that to you afterward.

Nannies raised me. My mother was always busy with her friends, and my father did nothing but work. For being seven years apart, my brother and I were close. He tried to be there as often as he could, but seven years’ difference is a lot. When he went off to college, leaving me behind, I felt so alone. I missed him so much. But I understood why he had to go. He’s so much like my father—living and breathing his job. And he plans to take over the company one day. Honestly, I left the first chance I got.

I wasn’t the kid who got into trouble. I didn’t smoke or drink or even party all that much. My mother kept me from doing any of that with my busy schedule. But what killed me the most was a boy—Ryder’s best friend, Jaycent. I was obsessed with the man to the point it was borderline unhealthy. Like “buy all the teen magazines and rip his pictures out and pin them to my wall” unhealthy. It would have been easier had he been famous. At least then I would have had an excuse to crush on him.

I’ll never forget the first time I realized I was in love with him. I was eleven. He was eighteen. I know how sick that must sound, but at that age, it wasn’t sexual for me. I didn’t even know what sex was until I was fifteen. Having no social life will do that to you. And back then, you didn’t have a small computer at your fingertips with unlimited internet access. You had to watch TV or actually experiment, and I did neither.

Anyway, my parents were out of town, and my brother threw a party. It was something he did regularly, so it wasn’t anything new. But this party felt different. I was never officially invited to them. My brother would order pizza for me and tell me to watch a movie. But I had snuck out of my room this time. I walked down the long hall on the third floor and stopped at the corner before the grand staircase, peeking down at them drinking and dancing. I remember wanting to be them. Not necessarily the drinking part, but the free part. I wanted to let my hair down and dance. To put on something I wanted to wear for a change, put my hair up in a ponytail, and bounce around like an idiot. I had never experienced that before, and they made it look so ... amazing.

I found myself sitting on the staircase and smiling, my arms clenching my diary close to my chest. No one saw me—not like they would care even if they did. They had the lights dimmed, and the music turned up so loud, it carried to the higher stories. I searched the crowded room for the one face I couldn’t stop dreaming of. Jaycent. He was always around. Night and day, he and my brother were inseparable. And I had a crush on him. A big one.

When I finally spotted him, my smile grew bigger. He was standing by a big silver barrel with a red cup in one hand and a nozzle of some sort in the other. He was nodding his head as he poured some yellow liquid into the cup. When he was done, he brought it to his lips and took a drink.

I placed my elbows on my knees and sighed. He wore black jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a gray pullover. His dark hair was long and pushed behind his ears. Light brown eyes and a smile that made me forget what I was thinking. He was gorgeous in every way.

I sighed as I watched him drink then refill his cup. I wish I could go down there just to hang out with him. Even though I am younger, he has never treated me any differently. But Ry would be mad at me, so I stay where I am.

I watch him for over an hour. He laughs and talks to everyone. He and Ryder are both very popular at school. They’re known for their parties.

A woman comes up behind him as he is talking to my brother. I know who she is—Jasmine. It’s his new girlfriend; I overheard Ryder telling some girl he had over last week.

She wraps her arms around his waist from behind, and he looks over his shoulder in surprise. My chest tightens as she leans up and kisses his cheek. But then I smile when he pulls away from her. Only to be crushed even more when he turns around to face her and takes her into his arms. She’s beautiful if you’re into perfection. Her bleach blond hair is long and her eyes blue. She looks like the Barbies I have in my room. I asked my mother if I could dye my hair, and she said no, that men prefer natural beauty over fake. I’m not so sure she is right, and I’m pretty sure she has had more work done than my Barbies.

He leans down and kisses her, and I feel my throat close when his hands go to her butt. It hurts to see them together. It hurts to know she knows him in a way I don’t.

He pulls away and slaps her on the butt before turning back to my brother. He laughs, and she goes back to standing behind him with her arms wrapped around his middle.

I stare at the way his lips curve up, and my eyes start to sting. I don’t understand why I feel this way about him. I sniff and reach up to wipe my runny nose on my hand when he looks up. I freeze, and my breath gets stuck in my throat as his dark eyes meet mine.

He holds them for a second, and Jasmine follows his line of sight. She narrows her eyes at me; she doesn’t like me being around them. She looks at me like a child, not one of them. I stand and spin around and run to my room before Ryder can see me, tossing my diary onto my bed.

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