Izzy smiles. “Stick with me long enough, and you’ll ditch the drama. Boys are stupid and overrated anyway.”
That’s the thing I’d later learn about Izzy—she makes life feel lighter. She never asks too many questions. Never forces me to unpack my heavy baggage. And she’s everything I’m not—fearless, unapologetic, full of life. And somehow, after just a few weeks, she’s becoming my person.
By March, the school hallways buzz with spring break plans. After weeks of late-night study sessions and trying too hard to fit in, I’m drained and could use a break.
One night, my phone lights up.
Izzy:March break, baby!! Sleepover at my place. No parents, no rules. Special brownies included.
I hesitate. As close as we’ve gotten, it’s super weird I’ve never been to her house. She never really talks about her family, and when she does, it’s not exactly heartwarming. That makes me a little nervous about meeting them. Once, she joked about her dad canceling her birthday party because her mom showed up. “It’s fine,” she said, laughing. “He bought me a new phone instead. Totally worth it.”
Another time, she admitted she wished she could live with only her mom. But her dad has the money, the credit cards, the control—so she puts up with him. I never push. I get it. If you don’t talk about it, it’s not real. And who the hell wants to talk about their parents’ dragged-out divorce anyway? Sometimes, I wonder if the reason she’s always chasing fun is because she never had it growing up.
Still, the idea of a night without supervision is tempting. I ask my mom, and she waves me off with a distracted “yes,” too preoccupied with boyfriend number sixty-nine to care. I shove that thought aside. I’ve learned to act like my mom prioritizing her love life over me doesn’t bother me.
Ryan, though? He might get angry… maybe possessive. It started with little things—constant check-ins, casual questions about who I was texting. He says it’s because he cares. That he worries. And I believe him. But now, if I don’t answer fast enough, his mood shifts. It becomes dark and unpredictable.
I make a mental note to text him often, so he doesn’t freak out and ruin my night. Then rush through chores so my mom has zero excuses to change her mind. When it’s finally time, I grab my duffel bag and catch the bus for what feels like the longest ride of my life. Izzy texts again.
Izzy:My cousins and a few other girls are coming too. Get ready for drama.
Normally, I’d rather not hang out with a bunch of people I don’t know. But today I don’t care, because it’s my first realsleepover. I know—pathetic, right? The girl across from me, clutching her designer bag, keeps staring like she knows it too. As the ride goes on, the townhouses fade, and the houses start getting bigger. Then bigger. Is this the right stop?
I step off the bus and start walking, taking in my surroundings. My eyes go wide. Enormous mansions. Perfectly manicured lawns. Expensive cars. My jaw drops as I head up a long, winding driveway that looks longer than my entire street. There’s a fountain spitting water from some gargoyle’s mouth, and three luxury cars I’ve only seen in movies parked out front.
I stop and unzip my bag to double-check the address I scribbled on a piece of paper.
Shit. I’m at the right house. What the actual hell. I think about all the times I vented about my mom dating men to help pay our bills. How I swore I’d never rely on a man. And now I’m standing in front ofthis.
Feeling completely out of place, I ring the doorbell, struggling with the zipper that still won’t close. The chime echoes. This better be the right place, or I’m about to die of embarrassment. I smooth my hair and adjust my jacket, but there’s no use. My messy bun and I do not belong here.
As I raise my hand to knock again, the door opens.
And I freeze.
Not Izzy. A guy. A hot, tall guy.
Broad shoulders. Thick forearms. Dark hair. Deep brown eyes that hold secrets you want to unravel. And that smirk? Trouble. Just not for me. Definitely not for me. I don’t need more problems from boys. I have enough to last a lifetime.
“Uh, hi, um… I'm here for Izzy.” The words spill out awkwardly. Fantastic. I’ve forgotten how to speak.
His amused smile makes my stomach do a little somersault. Seriously, why the hell did I think it was a good idea to wear cat-print pajamas and worn-out dog slippers? I must look likeI’m twelve. Before he can respond, Izzy flies down the spiral staircase, a giant chandelier sparkling over her. “Jacob, upstairs. Now!” she says, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “Sorry, this is my brother. Ignore him.”
Not sure I can ignore eyes that look like that.
“Jacob, this is Jenna.” She shoots me an apologetic look. “She and her mom just moved to Nashville.”
Jacob leans against the door frame, studying me like I’m interesting. “Cool. Where’d you move from?”
Such a simple question, yet a knot forms in my throat. Explaining my life in a few words isn’t easy. “Uh, well… my mom moves us around a lot. She has a thing for starting over.”
And ruining my life every time she chases a new guy.
Jacob’s brow lifts. “Sounds like a fascinating life. Maybe this can be your final destination.”
Izzy interrupts, groaning. “Alright, Romeo, move along. It’s not time to get all deep and philosophical.”
Jacob smirks, unbothered. “Correction—cool andveryhot brother,” he adds with a wink. “Let me know if you girls need milk and cookies later.”
