Page 33 of A Novel Love Story

Still, nothing.

I sat down hard on the curb. No cell service, no car, nowhere to stay, and the sun felt like it had a personal vendetta against me. I pushed my sweaty bangs out of my face. Okay, think.

Think.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed. If I was dead, and this was some delusion of my dying brain, I didn’t want to imagine what state my body might be in, if they ever found me. A morbid thought, but honestly the mostrealisticout of the two options.

A) I had hydroplaned off the road and was currently dying in some ditch in nowhere New York.

Or …

B) I was in the imaginary town of my favorite romance series.

And if this was real, and I was stuck here …

As I tried not to panic, a timid voice dragged me out of my thoughts.

“Lyssa?” the voice asked.

I cracked open an eye.

On the sidewalk, a freckled young woman stood, holding on to the thin strap of her purse tightly, in a paint-splattered T-shirt and baggy jean shorts. Her pastel pink hair was pulled back into a messy bun, her hazel eyes more blue than green today, her lips pink with gloss. Her thick, expressive eyebrows furrowed when she realized I wasn’t Lyssa.

Junie Bray.

TheJunie Bray.

Main character ofDaffodil Daydreams. Fell off a horse at six and cut her brow open, leaving a scar. Knit when she was anxious. Baked the absolutebestbrownies. Smelled like vanilla and acrylic paints. Had worn the same pair of pink Converses since senior year of college. She was brilliant, and brave, and everything that I wished I could be but never amounted to, beautiful and wild like a Monet painting come to life.

And she had saved me. More than once. When I was at my lowest she had been there to reach her hand down and pull me out of that horrible pit—

Her eyes widened. “Oh—oh shit, I’m sorry, I thought you were … sorry. Wow, that’s embarrassing.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. Tried to be cool. “It’s the hair, right?”

She scrunched her nose, and it wrinkled the skin between her eyebrows. “From a distance, and there aren’t many redheads around.”

“Well, I’m all natural. Mostly. If you don’t count the color over the gray hairs,” I added, and she laughed.

“Why do you think I dye mine pink? I’d be all white with the way this year has been going,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re the newbie who slapped the hell out of Anders?”

My eyes widened. “Oh, fuck. People saw that?”

“Only, like, three people,” she replied, and just as I was about to sigh in relief, she added, “and that means soon the entire town’ll know.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Of course.”

“For the record,Ididn’t see it, but Maya sure as hell did,” she said, motioning back toward the sweets shop. “She said she’s never seen Andie piss someone off so thoroughly before. I mean, he snipes at Will often but,wow, he really said something to you.” She stepped off the curb, closer. “Are you okay?”

“I—” My voice caught in my throat. I closed my mouth. Frowned. That was the last question I expected anyone to ask. “Yeah,” I said, though I didn’t sound convincing. I cleared my throat and tried again, because whatever was going on in my head was my business. I didn’t need to drag anyone else into my solo pity party. “Better than my car, at least.”

She glanced back at the auto shop, putting two and two together. “Ooh. The green thing in front of Gail’s is yours?”

“Heeey, that green thing is Sweetpea, and she’s never let me down before.”

“Hella bad timing.” She checked her watch, and shook her head. “He probably just left.”

“Of course I just missed him.”

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