Prologue

Four years ago

Hannah

I should have said no.

I stare out the window, watching my last glimpses of Seattle speed by. I’m not sure when I will see the city again, that’s the magic of going to school on the East Coast.

My parents have been chattering away about how much they loved their time at NYU, how they know I will meet the best people and have the best experiences, but I’m not so sure.

I’m only going there because of them.

While I was accepted to Julliard to pursue ballet, my true passion, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pass up the full scholarship to NYU. Especially not when my parents were so excited about the idea of me attending their alma mater. As their only child, I couldn’t disappoint them in that way—or ask them to pay Julliard’s full tuition when I could go to school for free.

I made the practical decision.As always.

Before I know it, we’re at the airport. I told my parents they didn’t need to come along to drop me off at school because they are planning on coming out for parents weekend next month, and two cross-country trips in that short of a time is ridiculous.

We tearfully part ways, they thank me for carrying on their legacy, I thank them for everything they’ve done for me. With a few extra hugs, I’m on my way.

I get through security, grab a snack, and am on the plane in a blur. I am sitting in my seat, trying not to cry again when I hear a deep “Excuse me,” that sharply cuts into my fog.

I glance up and instantly feel my breath hitch as my gaze clashes with the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. The tall man’s perfectly chiseled features are framed by dark hair that falls over his face in unruly curls. He's wearing a crispy white shirt that molds perfectly against his biceps, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal a tattoo peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Damn, he’s hot.

“Mind if I squeeze in?” he asks, his voice is smooth but has an air of authority I kind of love.

“Sure,” I say, though it comes out more like a whisper.

As he moves past me to take his seat, I catch a whiff of his cologne—something woody and intoxicating. It goes straight into my head, causing my already unstable heart to beat even faster.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He settles into his seat, buckling his seatbelt with practiced ease, and then turns his gaze out the window. Swallowing nervously, I steal a glance at his chiseled profile only to find him looking straight at me. I turn away quickly, but it’s too late. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

I spend the remainder of our taxiing time staring into the aisle, watching the rest of the passengers board, listening much more intently than I normally would to the flight attendants’ safety demonstration, and just doing anything I can to avoid acknowledging the handsome stranger beside me.

Finally, an hour into the flight, he breaks the silence.

“So, what’s taking you to New York?” he asks, his eyes locking on mine once again.

“School,” I reply simply. “I’m going to be studying business at NYU,” I finish.

He stays silent, his brows furrowed in a curious frown. “You don’t seem very excited about it. NYU is a great school,” he finally says, his eyes still searching mine.

I hesitate, suddenly feeling a strange urge to open up to him despite knowing nothing about him. Maybe it's the soothing sound of his voice or his endlessly dreamy eyes, but I suddenly find myself spilling my guts.

“It’s not that I don’t know that, it’s just I’m only going there because my parents wanted me to. My real dream was to pursue dance… I actual got admitted to Julliard to study it, but… too much got in the way,” I say, finally feeling a taste of relief as I getmy true desire off my chest. It feels good to let it out, even if my admittance was to a stranger.

“What’s ‘too much?’” he asks. I tell him about my family history, about the money, about everything I am using to justify pursuing my dream in favor of my parents.

He listens intently and it feels good to feel this, I don’t know, seen, I guess? By a total stranger. He’s easy to talk to,he’s just what I needed.

“Maybe you could still pursue dance on the side?” he suggests, and I’m embarrassed the thought never came to me on my own. NYU has amazing dance clubs, plus I’m going to be living in New York freaking City, of course I can dance whenever I want.

It’s crazy how someone you’ve never met before can change your perspective. This isn’t my doom; I’m still living in the city I dreamed of, and I have plenty of other opportunities.