Page 7 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

“I think I messed things up with the new boy. Everything was goin’ fine ‘til we started talkin’ about his dead daddy.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Then he got plain mean, and now I think he hates me when he was the one who brought him up in the first place!” My voice rises with indignation. I can’t stand when people think bad about me.

Mama walks over and smoothes my hair. “Oh baby, we have no clue what that boy must be goin’ through. The best thing you can do is be there for him and forgive his faults.”

“Fat chance of that. See if I’ll be his friend now,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

She kisses the top of my head. “Forgiveness is divine, Alina May.” She sits back down, picks up her book, and continues reading.

I’ve been staring in my room’s full-length mirror for the past ten minutes. I have on the new two-piece I bought last week, but I’m not sure I can pull it off. It looked great on the mannequin, so when Becca begged me to get it, I gave in to peer pressure. The problem is, no matter how I try to adjust the top, the dang thing is still like a bright red polka-dotted sign advertising my newly acquired cleavage. I swear, I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning with two giant melons on my chest.

I cup them in my hands and marvel at the weight. Who knew they would be so heavy?

“What are you doing?” The voice comes out of nowhere. I jump in shock, spinning toward it.

“Good Lord, Chase. Knock much?” I complain, my heart racing underneath the palm of my hand. “I didn’t think you were back in town.”

He looks me over slowly from tip to toe. I see the amusement drain from his eyes, and when he’s done with his leisurely perusal, his stare is heavy.

“Goddamn Goldi, the hell are you wearing?” His tongue peeks out and sweeps across his bottom lip, drawing my attention to the wetness left behind.

My breath hitches.

In moments like this, where the air is thick with unspoken emotion, I can almost convince myself he feels it, too. Whatever this is. Over the past three years, the vines of our friendship have grown and twisted, wrapping tightly around every single piece of me until I don’t know how to get untangled. It’s big and scary and I don’t know how to handle it, so I pretend things are the same as they’ve always been.

But they’re not.

I move my gaze from his lips, drinking him in. Gone is the gangly preteen with too short hair. In his place is a full-grown teenager that sparks a fire low in my belly. Sculpted muscles ripple under his shirt, his hair mussed from fingers that always find a home in the strands. His hazel eyes are so deep, I’m surprised anyone can find their way back again. I force my eyes away, moving to grab the robe that’s thrown haphazardly on the back of my desk chair.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over what I’m wearin’.” I wrap the robe around my body, looking up. His dimples are on full show, a rare occurrence in the world of Chase Adams.

“How you feeling today, Goldi?”

I pout. “A little too big, if I’m honest.”

He cocks his head, eyebrows drawing in. The last thing I want is to talk about my struggle with puberty, so I change the subject. “How was your vacation?”

He shrugs. “Sandy.”

I giggle at his answer. A conversationalist, Chase is not, that’s for dang sure.

“Well, there’s been a whole bunch goin’ on around here. Eli got offered a scholarship for basketball in Ohio, so naturally, Mama has lost her mind cryin’ every day. She’s dead set on tryin’ to convince him to pick a local school, instead.”

I roll my eyes. Eli’s always talked about getting out of our small town and making something of himself. No way he’ll stay local. He’s got big dreams of making it all the way to the NBA and I’ve half a mind to believe he will.

“No shit? Good for him.”

I nod. “Oh, and there’s a new guy that moved into the neighborhood last week. I went over and met him today. Took him some of Mama’s banana bread and everything. I’m sure Becca will be thrilled to have fresh meat to chew up and spit out before school starts,” I laugh.

“Why do you say that?” Chase asks.

“Well, you know how Becca is with boys, and this one’s a looker.” I remember how he was weaving magic with his words the second we met. “I’m also pretty sure he could charm the knickers off a nun.”

Chase’s demeanor shifts, his jaw clenching. “Are you saying this new guy charmed you?”

I smile. “I definitely give him an A for effort, that’s for sure.”

He scoffs. “Is he even your age? What kind of a guy flirts with a girl he just met?”

“I imagine most of them, Chase.” My forehead crinkles as I answer him.

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