EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO…

The first time I saw her, she was outside the principal’s office before third period English. I tried not to gawk at her bruised lip and black eye. The girls I knew wore identical brand name jeans with rhinestone pockets; she wore camouflage cargo pants. They wore frosted lipstick; she had a stud in her nose and multiple piercings in her ears. While they talked about boys and clung together in ridiculous groups, this girl slouched in a chair beside Principal Dougan’s door, a place reserved for delinquents and hoodlums. The toes of her combat boots extended into the hall, blocking my path. When she didn’t move, I stepped over her feet. She tilted her head up, making the bleached ends of her jet-black hair skim the tops of her shoulders. Kohl-rimmed eyes shifted to meet mine. She lifted her chin, a singular act of defiance, daring me to comment.

“Nice shiner,” I said.

“You should see the other guy,” she replied.

I kept walking, but I didn’t stop thinking about her.

On the first warm fall evening, the local kids met at the covered bridge. Farmland stretched for miles in every direction. The historic bridge, sheltered by a curve in the road and a copse of tall trees, provided the perfect location for a night of fun in a community devoid of movie theaters and nightclubs. I usually shied away from these kinds of rebellious parties, but my mom had asked me to keep an eye on my brother Chris. He’d been in and out of trouble for most of his life and had to repeat eighth grade, which put us in the same graduating class. Somehow, I’d been charged with the task of keeping him on the straight and narrow tonight.

By now, I knew the girl’s name was Stella. She stood alone by a boulder on the bank of the river. I’d asked around about her and had learned she was a foster kid staying with Stan and Marianne Hudgens. They were good people, even if Stan loved his beer, and they took in foster kids on a regular basis. The children stayed for a month or two before moving on, but this girl had been with them for close to six months. She shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her leather jacket and scowled at me. I looked quickly away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. A few minutes later, my gaze found hers again. Gathering my nerve, I grabbed an extra beer from the cooler and headed toward her.

“No,” she said when I came within an arm’s length.

“I didn’t ask you anything.”

“But you’re going to, and the answer is no.” Despite her tough persona, the top of her head barely reached the center of my chest. Her pint-sized spunk amused me.

“How could you tell?”

She sighed, a weary gust that ruffled her bangs. “Because I’ve seen that same look on a dozen different guys at a dozen different schools. They’re always fascinated by someone new and shiny. So, the answers are no, I won’t go out with you, and no, I’m not easy.”

“I was going to ask your name and offer you a beer.” I picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. My pride smarted from her semi-accurate assessment. “But not with that attitude.”

“I’m Stella, and you’re Owen.” A reluctant smile twitched the corners of her mouth, and her shoulders lowered. “I don’t drink, but thanks.” I shrugged, intending to leave with my tail between my legs, but she rested a hand on my sleeve. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just, I hate being the new kid all the time. I can never let my guard down.”

The wistfulness in her voice halted my steps. I knew how it felt to stand out, to have people judge me. At six-foot four, I towered over most adults, and all of my classmates. My size, coupled with my family history, led to epic assumptions about my character—most of them wrong. “Where are you from?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere.” She dropped her hand from my arm, leaving a curious sense of loss from her touch. “I was born in Fort Wayne. I’ve moved around a lot since then. For now, I’m staying with the Hudgens.”

“I mow their yard.” Sometimes Mrs. Hudgens invited me inside for lunch and, eager to avoid my dysfunctional home, I accepted. The job suddenly became much more appealing if Stella might be there.

“Yeah? They seem nice enough, but then most foster parents do at first.” The point of her chin jutted out in an adorable, rebellious display. For the first time, I noticed the unique violet shade of her irises between the layers of her thick, black eyelashes, and the delicate tilt of her nose. She shivered, pulling the edges of her jacket closer around her middle. “Give them a couple of months. I’m sure they’ll grow tired of us.”

“Us?” I shrugged out of my jean jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She flinched at first then relaxed when I made no move to touch her again.

“Me and my sister Lanie.” She pointed to a young redhead a few yards away, chatting to a group of freshman boys. Aside from similar delicate features, the girls could have been strangers. Lanie was taller and thinner and outwardly vivacious while Stella melted into the shadows.

“What happened to your parents? You don’t have to answer that,” I added, realizing my insatiable curiosity had overwhelmed my good manners.

“It’s okay.” She dug in the depths of her coat pocket. The black polish on her fingertips had chips around the edges, like maybe she was a nail biter. She withdrew a cigarette, placed it between her lips, and lit it with an expert flick of a cheap plastic lighter. “My mom’s a crack addict. I have no idea where she’s at.” Her matter-of-fact tone caught me by surprise. A wreath of smoke encircled her head. “I never met my dad. He left before I was born. Mom always said he was a hit-and-run driver.”

The boldness of her stare might have driven off another guy, but not me. I was mesmerized. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met. I took a step closer, warily, not wanting to scare her away. Up close, she smelled like lavender soap and shampoo and leather.

“My parents are fucked up too.” I leaned against the boulder on her left side. The brush of her arm along mine sent tingles down my legs. My cock, which had been on lockdown for the last month, stirred to life. Laughter and music drowned out the rush of water beneath the bridge. Flickering flames of the bonfire cast dancing shadows on the underbrush and added an air of mystery to the moonless night. “My dad’s not exactly popular around here.”

“Really? Why’s that?” The stud in her left eyebrow lifted higher. “Did he rob a bank or something?”

“Not that I know of.” Her comment had come painfully close to the truth. She studied me with renewed interest. I tried not to watch the way her pert tits rose and fell with each drag on the cigarette. Since that day in the hallway, her boobs had consumed way too much of my seventeen-year-old brain power. “But it’s not out of the question.”

“Ah. I get it.” With the filter of the cigarette pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she drew a wavy line through the air between us. “So, what’s your deal? You’re the captain of the football team. Shouldn’t you be hitting on Suzie Cheerleader over there?” She nodded toward Suzie, my ex-girlfriend, who was glaring at us from the opposite side of the fire. We’d been on-again-off-again since eighth grade, and I was way over her clinging neediness.

“Suzie’s a nice girl, but the only thing she wants is to get married, have babies, and spend the rest of her life in Corbett.” The thought of life in this one-horse town soured my stomach. Once I graduated from high school, I was never coming back to this place.

“And you don’t?” That lovely violet gaze roved my face, staring much too deeply into my eyes. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away. She had secrets, and I wanted to know them all.

“I’ve got a full-ride football scholarship, and it’s going to be my one-way ticket out of here. I want to travel the world and see everything.”

“Me too.” With an expert flick of her thumb, she launched the cigarette butt into the river.

“I see your black eye is gone.” In response, her eyebrow lifted, daring me to continue. Word of her one-day suspension for fighting had swept our tiny high school in a matter of hours. “Why did you hit that guy?”

“He was picking on Lanie.” Her gaze snagged on her little sister, who was cozied up to Chris. She scowled. “Lanie. Let’s go.”

Lanie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“It’s late. Come on.”

“No.” The younger girl’s features turned down in a pout. “You go ahead. Chris will take me home. Won’t you, Chris?”

I didn’t like the way he smirked or the tightness of his arm around Lanie’s waist. He liked to brag about his sexual conquests at inappropriate times and had a thing for underage girls. The last thing I wanted was to see him take advantage of another unsuspecting girl.

Stella charged toward the couple. “You know she’s only fourteen, right?”

Chris backed away from Lanie, both hands held high in surrender. I followed Stella, steeling myself for a fight. Chris had an explosive temper and often came apart over the smallest things. He spoke to me, as if I’d defend him and not the girls. “She said she was seventeen, man. What’s a guy to do?”

“Well, she lied.” Stella grabbed Lanie’s arm and dragged her toward the road. “Time to go, Lanie.”

“Oh my God. This is so embarrassing.” The younger girl squirmed in her sister’s grasp. “Let go. You can’t treat me like this.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I shoved Chris’s shoulder.

“Don’t be such a whiner.” He shoved me back. His fingers curled into the leather of my jacket. “You’re just jealous.”

We glared at each other. More than once, we’d tumbled in the dirt. Most of the time, I walked away to keep the family peace, because Chris would fight until one or both of us died, even when he knew he was wrong.

“Let go before I break your nose.” By now, we’d attracted the attention of quite a few kids. I lowered my voice. Despite his quick temper, Chris harbored a healthy fear of me because I had, in fact, broken his nose for hiding his marijuana in my backpack.

“So sensitive.” The tension on my jacket eased. He pretended to swipe lint from my shoulder. “Keep your panties on. We’re all good.”

When I turned around, Stella and Lanie had gone. They were halfway up the embankment to the road before my mouth caught up to my brain. “Hey, wait up. I’ll walk you home.”

“Suit yourself,” Stella said without stopping. I jogged to her side. “Lanie, this is Owen. Owen, this is Lanie.”

“Hey,” I replied.

“Hey.” Lanie glanced in my direction then rolled her eyes at her sister. “You always ruin my fun.”

“You don’t need to be hanging out with seniors,” Stella said, her tone mild but firm.

“You’re not my mom.”

“No, thank goodness.” She tugged her sister into her side and kissed the top of her head. “If you hadn’t sneaked out of the house tonight, I wouldn’t have had to come after you and drag you home.”

“Who cares? Stan’s drunk off his ass, and Marianne took a bunch of sleeping pills,” Lanie said, shrugging away from Stella. “They won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“I don’t care. You promised to behave.”

“I’m so bored. I hate this place,” Lanie huffed.

“If you’re not careful, the Hudgens are going to send us back. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and keep walking.”

The smell of damp earth and spring grass filled the air. Our footsteps crunched on the gravel road. I shortened my stride to keep pace with Stella while Lanie streaked ahead. We walked in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t far to the Hudgens’s house, and nothing but empty farm fields stretched between the bridge and their home.

“She seems like a handful,” I said to break the silence.

“Yeah. She’s fourteen going on forty,” Stella replied. “Every time we change homes, she gets worse.” Her sigh sounded more like a mature adult than a rebellious teenager. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going to get a place of my own, so she can live with me. That’s just a year away. Until then, I’m trying to keep her out of trouble the best that I can.”

Guilt washed through me. It was a lot of responsibility for a kid to take on. My biggest problems were how to avoid my drunken mother’s guilt trips, Chris, and my dad’s bad temper. Compared to Stella’s life, I had it easy.

“I don’t know why I told you that.” Stella stopped at the end of her driveway. “I don’t usually spill my secrets.”

I smiled at her, flattered by her confidence. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Our hair ruffled in the light breeze. The focus of her gaze dipped to my lips and back to my eyes. A different kind of desire swept through me, its intensity frightening but welcome. She shifted toward me. “Well, nice to meet you, Owen.”

I intended to shake her hand, but she ignored my offer. Rising on tiptoe, she cupped my face between her palms and kissed me. The press of her warm, soft lips against my mouth sent a jolt of attraction straight to my groin. I let her take the lead, but when her tongue touched mine, I lost control. I backed her up against the nearest tree and molded my body against hers. She moaned, setting a match to my desire.

A growl tickled my throat. Her fingers curled into my hair and tugged. I wanted to pull her closer, to do hot, dirty things to her body. Teenage lust coursed through my veins. I’d been with Suzie and a few other girls, but none of them knew how to kiss like Stella.

“Owen, take your tongue out of that girl’s mouth and get in the car. Time to come home.” My father’s voice hit me like a bucket of ice water, chilling my desire. I’d been so intent on working up the courage to stick my hand under Stella’s shirt that I’d entirely missed the Lincoln Continental on the road behind us. He had an eerie way of never being around when I needed him, but always showing up at the most inopportune times. Chris sat in the passenger seat, an amused smirk on his face.

Stella stiffened and pulled back. Cool air rushed between us. She wiped a hand over her mouth. In the darkness, her eyes glittered. The black of her pupils overtook the pale hue of her irises.

I thrust a hand through my hair. “I need to go. See you around?”

“Sure.” She walked up the driveway, looking small and alone beneath the murky sky. After a few paces, she turned and waved, flashing a brief but welcome smile. I watched until she disappeared behind the house.

“Owen. Car. Now.” Dad growled, his fragile patience growing thinner by the second. The smirk fell from Chris’s face. No doubt, one of us would pay for his irritation later.

I got in the car and closed the door. On the drive home, Dad rambled on about how disappointing we were, and why couldn’t we be more like my him? I blocked out his words, choosing instead to focus on my stinging lips and Stella’s intoxicating eyes.