Prologue (Breslin)
My lungs burn as I continue running through the storm with only one goal in mind.
Make sure Asher Holden doesn't see where I live.
I take a deep breath that seems near impossible due to the heavy rain. Shivers zip up and down my spine and my feet keep slipping in the mud as I reach the once dirt road turned pseudo lake leading up to the trailer park.
But I don't let up, I'm so close to being in the clear I can almost taste it.
“Breslin,” a deep voice shouts in the distance. I take a sharp right and surge forward. Adrenaline holds my body hostage and my chest rises and falls as I suck in as much air as I can.
My teeth chatter, God, I'm so cold. It's the end of fall and Mother Nature seems to be taking no prisoners with this storm.
Lightning flashes through the sky and I run faster and faster. I just need to make it home before he sees me.
He's on a razor scooter, idiot—I remind myself before fear pummels me and I nearly trip over a fallen tree branch.
It's dangerous as hell for him to be riding that stupid thing right now.
Great, you're going to be responsible for committing homicide on your 16th birthday. Way to go, Breslin. Reach for those stars.
I look around...I'm already past the gates. The dirt land filled with dingy double wide trailers that reek of poverty a glaring reminder.
My father couldn't even spring the extra 20 bucks a month for the nicer park.
I close my eyes and tilt my chin toward the rain...waiting for the inevitable.
It's not like it matters anyway. I'm not a princess...and my life sure as hell won't ever be a fairy tale. Why I thought meeting Asher Holden and him setting his eyes on me a few weeks ago would change all that is anyone's guess.
And his family. God his family in their million-dollar house with real silver spoons, looking at their son like he had a temporary bout with sanity for bringing me home for dinner.
The only person who didn't look at me with disdain was his brother Preston, but that's only because he was so busy stuffing his face and looking at the stock market on his phone. What 14-year-old is interested in the stock market anyway?
Oh, that's right. Rich 14-year-olds whose families are loaded.
And then his mother...the look of horror she shot me when she asked what my favorite kind of cake was so we could celebrate my birthday and I said, 'The yellow kind from a box' like an idiot.
I never even knew what Crème Brûlée was before tonight. And to be perfectly honest, to me it tasted like burnt dog shit—but I have manners and didn't want to insult their chef or their hospitality; so I just smiled and thanked them profusely for it.
I look down at my poor excuse for a dress and slam my palm against my forehead.
Good Lord, there's not only a small hole, but a stain smack dab in the middle of my chest. How did I overlook that?
I guess that's what I get for shopping at Goodwill for this outfit and taking advantage of their two for one sale. Because that's exactly what I've got.
“Breslin,” Asher shouts again, his voice much closer now. Any minute he'll be rounding the corner.
I could probably meet him half way and pretend I got lost and that I don't really live here.
Well, I could have before tonight when Asher's dad told me immediately after dinner ended that he would drive me home, and I said there was no need because my father was waiting out front—and then before I could stop him—Asher ran out after me to say goodbye and quickly figured out my father wasn't anywhere to be seen.
Because—Yeah, right. My father doing something fatherly?
No, my father wouldn't waste the time or effort picking his teenage daughter up from some boy's house. On her 16th birthday no less.
Not only did he not wish me a happy birthday as I was fishing him a cold one before I left for school this morning, I doubt he even realizes that I'm gone now. In the middle of a rainstorm, shaking and shivering my ass off.
Waiting for Asher Holden to discover the girl that he—for reasons I'll never fathom—thinks is worth getting to know.
I squeeze my eyes shut and curse the rain. Silently wishing it would wash away this bleak life and give me any other one. As if hearing my prayer, the rain slows to a mist. Mother Nature is such a bitch.
I hear the vroom of Asher's scooter approaching and grit my teeth.
I mean what is he playing at anyway? Why is he being nice to me? No one else ever is.
He's only been in school a few short weeks but he can have any girl he wants. Something he must be acutely aware of given that everyone's eyes follow him and stay on him whenever he walks into a room.
Not that I can blame them...the guy is hands down the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life.
Admittedly I haven't seen wallops of hot guys in my short 16 years...but he's way hotter than those celebrities gracing the covers of tabloids and fashion magazines.
Which only further makes me wonder—just what in the hell does he want with me? I'm a plain Jane at best. Sloppy and 'this close' to being chubby at worst.
I pop my eyes open and my heart jumps to my throat. Because blue eyes nicer than any ocean in the Caribbean are staring right at me.
I expect him to be mad. I mean, he should be, my behavior was strange. Borderline rude even.
But he isn't. Instead, he swings his backpack over his shoulder, retrieves his jersey, and offers it to me.
I want to laugh, because if Marcy Bush was here witnessing him hand me his jersey right now, the bitch would have a coronary.
When I decline, he frowns. “You're shivering, Breslin.”
Probably because my clothes have holes in them, you blind fool—I want to shout, but I don't. I begrudgingly slip his jersey over my head and hold out my arms. “Happy? The only thing you've managed to accomplish was making your jersey wet. I'm still shivering. It's still raining...nothing has changed.”
Because I'm still a poor girl from the trailer park. And he's Asher Holden...destined for the kind of greatness I can't even wrap my head around.
You ain't meant for boys like him—my father's voice taunts me. He's gonna leave you as soon as he figures out you ain't good enough. Just like your Mama left us.
I walk over to a large tree log holding one side of the trailer park gate open and sit down.
I can feel his eyes on me and when I look up, the light from the dimming street light shows me the somber expression on his face. “I'm sorry. I know my family was rude to you tonight. I know my mom's a space cadet and my dad can be an asshole.”
Wait, he's apologizing for his family?
“That's not why I ran off,” I say before I can stop myself. I smooth my hair out of my face and take a deep breath. Might as well get this over with now. “I live here, Asher.”
He circles around and points to the ground. “Right here?” He walks over to the log I'm sitting on and taps on it. “One hell of a hard bed, Breslin.”
I laugh and shake my head. It's not funny, but the way he's trying to make light of the situation for my betterment makes him even more endearing to me.
“I—uh.” I rest my shaking hands on my thighs. “I was embarrassed. I didn't want you and your dad to see where I lived. That's why I ran off like I did.”
He plops down next to me. “I get it.”
I snort. “Yeah right. You're rich.”
“No,” he corrects. “My parents are rich. Big difference.” He grins and flips the inside pockets of his sweatpants out, showing me they're empty. “See? I have no money. We're the same.”
“We are not the same,” I argue. “And just because you don't have money on you doesn't mean you don't have access to it. Your family is well off.” I circle my finger in the air. “This is pretty much my destiny.”
“Says who?”
“I don't know...the universe? Society?” I look up at the night sky. Now that the storm has passed the stars above are twinkling bright.
“You're dangerous for me,” I whisper and my heart pangs. “And I'm no good for you.”
“That's not—”
I turn to look at him. “What do you want with me, Asher? Because I've got nothing to give you.”
“That's where you're wrong.” I gasp when he reaches for my hand and places two fingers over the spot where my pulse is pounding rapidly. “Because I want this.” He brings my wrist up to his lips. “I want you, Breslin Rae.”
I swallow hard, both my mind and body spinning out because neither knew they were capable of feeling so much at the same time.
“My mother liked to paint,” I blurt, wishing I could take the words back.
“She left when I was just a baby, but my dad said she left behind her favorite paint set for me.”
I leave out the part where my dad sold them to a neighbor so he could buy a 40 ounce.
“In her note, she told me to always chase my dreams.” My voice cracks, I'm a second away from breaking out into sobs.
Concern pulls on his features. “Is that what you think being with me will do? Stunt your dreams?”
“No.” I look at him and a tear slips down my cheek. “That’s what I'm afraid I'll do to you.” I gesture between us. “If we do this...I'm going to fuck your life up.” I draw my knees up to my chest. “I'm not the girl you should be with, Asher. I'm not the girl you can show off. I'm not the girl you can take to dances. I'm not the girl who fits in your future, period.”
I stand up. “I'm not the girl who will propel you forward, I'm the girl who will keep you here. Just like my dad did to my mom...until she finally had enough and left.”
Leaving me to deal with the mess left behind.
I start to walk away but his hand wraps around my wrist, holding me in place. His other hand pulls out his cell phone and I hear the first few bars of Glycerine by Bush start to play.
Before I can question him, he pulls me close and starts swaying.
“W-what are you doing?” I choke out, the stuttering in my voice no longer because I'm cold.
“You said you're not the girl I could take to dances,” he proclaims. “So, we'll have our own dances.”
I shake my head but he lifts my chin to look at him. “You said you don't fit in my future.” His eyes turn hard with determination. “Let me prove you wrong.”
I open my mouth but rain starts to fall again, heavier than before.
Of course, Mother Nature would choose the worst moment to grant my previous wish.
He brushes my hair out of my face and thunder booms above us. “I'm gonna prove you wrong about everything, Breslin Rae. And I'm gonna love you harder than anyone ever has before,” he shouts above the rain. “The only thing you have to do is let me.”
Tears prickle my eyes, my vision becoming hazy, the soft guitar strings from the music plucking my heart.
“We're gonna go down in flames,” I argue.
He leans in. “Then let's make one hell of an explosion.”
I open my mouth again, but he closes the distance between our lips. There's no room for protest, because all I can feel is myself free-falling. The kind of fall that doesn't feel a thing like falling...because my heart no longer belongs to me. It's Asher's. And it's soaring so high in his atmosphere, there's no way I'll ever get it back.
He smiles. “So, what do you say, Breslin?”
I nod, happiness and warmth coating my heart as he leans down to kiss me again and I feel myself float higher and higher.
But that's the thing about falling...
Sooner or later you're bound to hit something.
And there's no way of knowing what the damage from the impact will be until it happens.
And there are some falls—you just can't recover from.