Page 1 of The Season
Prologue
Lily
“Your boobs look bigger.”
Without thinking, I glance down, half expecting to see my breasts spilling out of my bikini, then lift my chin to give Steve a bland, patently unimpressed look.
“Nope. Just the same awesome size as always,” I deadpan. “Glad you could make it, Steve.”
I’m not glad.
In fact, I’m seriously regretting the last-minute impulse that had me inviting him to my going away party.
A quick glance at my friends tells me I’m not alone in wishing Steve hadn’t come. Henry looks like he’s going to crush the plastic cup clenched in his fist. Ethan looks like he’s swallowed something bitter, and Summer is shooting me a look that clearly says she’s doubting my sanity. I give her a tight smile.
You and me both, sweetheart.
Steve steps close enough to invade my personal space, smelling like coconut shampoo and chewing gum as he tucks a strand of silky, black, shoulder-length hair behind his ear. I swallow against the memories. Memories that should be sweet, but now are tinged with self-doubt and no small amount of anger.
“So, you’re going to Utah?” he wrinkles his nose at the wordUtah, as if it instantly conjures up images of sister-wives and Mormon missionaries zooming cheerily around on bicycles. “Why?”
So many reasons. One of which is currently standing way too close to me under the palm trees on the sun-kissed grass of Kailua Beach Park.
I shrug noncommittally, like I’m a carefree traveler, and not someone fleeing the island to escape the accumulation of their poor decision-making. “To teach snowboarding.”
He lifts one brow, eyeing me in disbelief.
“Oh look!” I clap my hands together, then turn to face the six-foot-six giant striding across the lawn, giving Steve my back. “Travis is here.”
Travis might be another one of the many reasons that I’ve booked a one-way ticket to snowy Mormon hell, but he’s also nice. Too nice, probably, considering how I’ve strung him along.
I trot over to him, practically leaping up to wrap him up in a hug, then smack a kiss on his cheek. “So glad you could make it!”
He gives me a tremulous half smile. It’s anawe shuckssort of smile, the sort that you’d expect on storybook cowboys, and not ex-hockey players studying premed. He’s clutching a leatherbound notebook and—when I finally release him—he presses it into my hands. “I got this for you.” His smile falters, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I know how you like to journal, so…”
I flick it open, my heart stuttering at the hand-drawn artwork gracing the inside cover. His work, no doubt. Intricate pen-work of a banyan tree that must have taken him hours.
“Wow. Thank you.” I clutch the journal to my chest, nausea rising in my stomach alongside the warmth.
He’s perfect. So damn perfect. Why can’t I feel anything for him? What is wrong with me?
He shrugs, his grin showcasing the dimples in his cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
It’s everything.
“Lily!”
Henry is storming across the grass toward me, a scowl plastered on his face. He pauses when he sees Travis, tips his chin in his direction, then turns his attention to me. “Why did you invite Steve?”
I grimace, my gaze dropping to my bare feet. I can hear the incessant crash of the waves on golden sand, the rhythmic pounding of the ocean interspersed with the occasional cooing of ring-neck doves and chittering of myna birds.
The sounds of a stifling paradise that I can’t wait to escape.
I don’t answer.
“Hey, calm down dude.” Travis throws one arm around my shoulder, his voice never losing its calm, slightly stoner-ish cadence. I want to roll my eyes at his misplaced protectiveness. “It’s not a big deal…”
“He’s a fucking asshole,” Henry hisses.
