Chapter 1
Rose
“We are what we repeatedly do.” ? Aristotle
One—inhale, exhale.Two—inhale, exhale.Three.
The pattern was so familiar to me, it should’ve beensickening. For anyone else, it would be. But for me, it was normal. For me, it was just another time I was stuck waiting on my best friend who hardly ever showedhis face.
The love of my life, I reminded myself.
The phone call cut to voicemail after the sixth ring, an automated voice of August’s number—one that played on a loop in my head—that had sent my stomach to my feet more times than I wanted to think about. My mind raced to justify why he wasn’t available this time. Why he couldn’t answer the phone I knew he always kept in his pocket. I could almost picture him lifting the phone, seeing my name, then putting it back down.
But there was always a reason. A good one, too.
Stomach flu. Or maybe he never actually saw the call and had fallen asleep early on accident. Either one I’d be willing to forgive. Again.
“Next!”
Shit.
I fumbled with my finger against the phone before sliding to end the call, having left a blank voicemail that lasted close to a full minute. Great. Now I’d seem desperateandhe’d have a recording of me breathing through the speaker.
“Next in line!”
Someone cleared their throat behind me while somewhere further down the line an older woman shouted something along the lines of needing to get inside before she pissed herself. I held my hand up as if trying to answer a question no one asked and stepped forward.
“Me. Hi. Yeah. I’m here.” I started to dig through my purse for my wallet while my eyes glazed over the movie posters along the wall to my left.
“Which movie and time?”
“Huh?” I peeled my eyes from the wall, positive I had no idea what movie August would prefer if he ever showed.
The teenager behind the Plexiglas huffed, drawing his palm down the length of his face and snagging his chapped, bottom lip on the edge of his fingers. I grimaced as it snapped back up. “Movie. Time. There’s a line.” He threw his arm out, fingertips stopping right before the clear wall that thankfully separated us.
I wanted to glance behind me to see if August had finally made it, but another person shouted some obscenity I couldn’t make out over the ringing in my right ear. No, make that both ears.
I tucked a few dark strands of straightened hair behind my ear before opening my wallet. “Um, right.” My shoulders crumpled inward. “I’m kind of waiting for someone still, can I just—“ I pointed beside me to where the ropes that formed the queue draped, then decidedly stepped out from my position in line before the impatient asshat could answer, stopping only when my hip bit into the dinghy rope.
“Next!” I wasn’t even out of the line yet and already the pimple-faced teen ushered in the next person from behind me.
“Two for whatever is playing in the next five minutes.” The new man’s voice was calm, stern, and completely void of adolescence. It was nothing like the kid behind the Plexiglas'. I kept my back turned to the queue, and seconds later, a whirring noise followed by clicks sent the image through my mind of dust spitting out from an old machine right at the teen boy. My lips turned up—like sweetpayback for his rudeness, only he probably didn’t mind the dust soaking up the oil on his greasy face.
My eyes glazed over the movie posters along the old theater’s exterior wall again as the next person stepped forward, my back turned to the line to avoid meeting the eyes of all the people I’d angered by being so indecisive. Those people didn’t know or care that August was the decider. He decided where we went in our small town, when, and for how long, while I usually ended up paying for whatever he picked with what little money I earned, flashing my independence like that would finally make him see me. Make him want me like I wanted him.
Was it stupid to think I still had a chance at being more than just his best friend after nearly eight years of waiting? Probably. Did that make me give up? Not a chance.
A warm hand splayed on my shoulder, softening my inner turmoil. “About time. I was waiting for you,” I whispered and turned, clutching my bag to my chest. But as I did, the rope scraped against my ass, causing me to lose my footing until his warm hand returned and stabilized me. I smiled more at his touch, unable to see him clearly as a gust of wind fanned my dark hair over my eyes, plastering the strands onto my makeup. I tried to clear the hair from my face as effortlessly as possible but failed terribly, spitting the stubborn hair glued to my red lipstick.
“For me, huh?” The warmth left my shoulder and I froze as my mind registered a voice that wasn’t August’s.
No, it was undeniably the same one I’d heard minutes before in line.
The last few pieces of hair left my eyes with a final puff of air, letting me fully take in the man standing right in front of me.
Not. August.
I exhaled my immediate disappointment. “No, sorry. I thought you were…umm…” I angled my head to the side, trying to block out the lightbulb that beamed along the wall behind him. Squared-back and broad shoulders shifted against a fitted black Henley t-shirt, covering the light as I straightened my head.I swallowed. “Did…did I drop something?” I asked, looking down at the mold-covered pavement beneath my sneakers, where my attention staggered back to him. I found myself fixating on the fit of his jeans, how the edges were tailored just right and draped perfectly over what looked like a very athletic body, just like his shirt did as my wandering eyes reached his chest. As if it wasn’t enough, I traced the lines of his tattoos along his corded arms—definitely built. And so damntall. Taller than August by several inches, if not an entire half-foot.
