everyone’s eyes,
like their good opinion meant a damn thing to me. It was all just a
game, anyway. And this way, I could feel like I was winning.
Then everything changed.
One night: that’s all it took for me to get a
glimpse of what life could be like, and after that, it all just
felt wrong. The victories didn’t taste so sweet; the gossip and
rumors started to get to me. Slowly, my bad reputation felt less
like a badge of pride, and more like an albatross around my neck,
always dragging me down. Now I wonder what it would be like if I’d
grown up normal. Unknown. Able to walk down the street without the
whispers behind me, to meet some guy who hadn’t heard the rumors,
the half-true legends of all my wild antics. Someone who didn’t
think they had an easy shot just because of my last name.
Someone to know me, the real me.
I brush away the thought and take another swig
of whiskey. This is the rejection talking, and the booze. I know,
even if they got to know me, it wouldn’t mean a thing. A few weeks
of playing at happiness, maybe, before they hit the road again.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life,
it’s that people always leave.
I sink down into one of the chairs. The whiskey
is finally working its magic, warming my bones from the inside,
even though it feels like I’m made of solid ice. I should go back
down and help out Garrett, I know, but I can’t drag myself away
just yet. The last wisps of twilight are fading, and way up here, I
can pretend the ugly mess downstairs doesn’t exist. Nothing exists
but me and the distant lights of the shoreline, so pretty that I
can almost forget what this town is like up close.
I come here all the time. This is my secret
spot, up above it all. It’s where I come to think and be alone, to
spend hours just watching the bustle of the town below, letting the
distant sound of the ocean wash away my pain as I daydream of some
other life, some other future, far away from this town and all the
memories chasing me down.
Some good those daydreams are. The years slip
past, and I’m still here: hiding away up on my rooftop, while they
all gossip and scorn me behind my back. I wanted so badly to prove
them wrong, but all I do is live up to their low expectations.
“That was quite some scene.”
A guy’s voice comes from behind me, amused.
“Leave me the hell alone,” I snap, not turning.
I’m not in the mood to deal with any more bullshit
tonight—especially not from some guy who heard the whispers and
figures I’m an easy score. “This is private property.”
There’s a low hum of laughter. “The Brit I knew
never cared about that.”
My heart stops.
It can’t be, I tell myself. Not here, not again,
after all this time.
But it is. I know the truth even before I brace
myself and turn. I’d recognize that voice anywhere: the low, sexy
drawl that echoes in my dreams, smooth as honey and sweet as the
night we shared together, three long years ago.
Hunter Covington.
“Waste of a good plate of nachos, if you ask
me.” Hunter grins at me across the rooftop, hair glinting dark gold
in the setting sun. “And you always said, nothing exciting ever
happens in this town.”
My heart pounds as I stare at him, disbelieving.
He’s leaning in the doorway, casual as can be. A ghost, a relic, a
memory I’ve clung to through dark nights and desperate days.
I never thought I’d see him again.
My legs give way beneath me, and I clutch at the
back of the lawn chair for support.
“You’re here,” I breathe.
“I’m here,” he agrees, and fixes me with a
crooked, heartbreaking smile.
Everything falls away.
The bar, the rejection letter, Trey—it all
dissolves under Hunter’s piercing gaze. My eyes devour him
hungrily. He’s older now, we both are, but somehow I’ve been
carrying the picture of who he used to be. The boy he was, not the
man he’s so clearly become. There’s power to his athletic body now,
clear in the broad frame of
like their good opinion meant a damn thing to me. It was all just a
game, anyway. And this way, I could feel like I was winning.
Then everything changed.
One night: that’s all it took for me to get a
glimpse of what life could be like, and after that, it all just
felt wrong. The victories didn’t taste so sweet; the gossip and
rumors started to get to me. Slowly, my bad reputation felt less
like a badge of pride, and more like an albatross around my neck,
always dragging me down. Now I wonder what it would be like if I’d
grown up normal. Unknown. Able to walk down the street without the
whispers behind me, to meet some guy who hadn’t heard the rumors,
the half-true legends of all my wild antics. Someone who didn’t
think they had an easy shot just because of my last name.
Someone to know me, the real me.
I brush away the thought and take another swig
of whiskey. This is the rejection talking, and the booze. I know,
even if they got to know me, it wouldn’t mean a thing. A few weeks
of playing at happiness, maybe, before they hit the road again.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life,
it’s that people always leave.
I sink down into one of the chairs. The whiskey
is finally working its magic, warming my bones from the inside,
even though it feels like I’m made of solid ice. I should go back
down and help out Garrett, I know, but I can’t drag myself away
just yet. The last wisps of twilight are fading, and way up here, I
can pretend the ugly mess downstairs doesn’t exist. Nothing exists
but me and the distant lights of the shoreline, so pretty that I
can almost forget what this town is like up close.
I come here all the time. This is my secret
spot, up above it all. It’s where I come to think and be alone, to
spend hours just watching the bustle of the town below, letting the
distant sound of the ocean wash away my pain as I daydream of some
other life, some other future, far away from this town and all the
memories chasing me down.
Some good those daydreams are. The years slip
past, and I’m still here: hiding away up on my rooftop, while they
all gossip and scorn me behind my back. I wanted so badly to prove
them wrong, but all I do is live up to their low expectations.
“That was quite some scene.”
A guy’s voice comes from behind me, amused.
“Leave me the hell alone,” I snap, not turning.
I’m not in the mood to deal with any more bullshit
tonight—especially not from some guy who heard the whispers and
figures I’m an easy score. “This is private property.”
There’s a low hum of laughter. “The Brit I knew
never cared about that.”
My heart stops.
It can’t be, I tell myself. Not here, not again,
after all this time.
But it is. I know the truth even before I brace
myself and turn. I’d recognize that voice anywhere: the low, sexy
drawl that echoes in my dreams, smooth as honey and sweet as the
night we shared together, three long years ago.
Hunter Covington.
“Waste of a good plate of nachos, if you ask
me.” Hunter grins at me across the rooftop, hair glinting dark gold
in the setting sun. “And you always said, nothing exciting ever
happens in this town.”
My heart pounds as I stare at him, disbelieving.
He’s leaning in the doorway, casual as can be. A ghost, a relic, a
memory I’ve clung to through dark nights and desperate days.
I never thought I’d see him again.
My legs give way beneath me, and I clutch at the
back of the lawn chair for support.
“You’re here,” I breathe.
“I’m here,” he agrees, and fixes me with a
crooked, heartbreaking smile.
Everything falls away.
The bar, the rejection letter, Trey—it all
dissolves under Hunter’s piercing gaze. My eyes devour him
hungrily. He’s older now, we both are, but somehow I’ve been
carrying the picture of who he used to be. The boy he was, not the
man he’s so clearly become. There’s power to his athletic body now,
clear in the broad frame of
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