Chapter 2 ~ 2

Chapter 2

~ Hay ~

I braced myself for another fight as I pushed through the front door to prepare for pre-prom, but the voice that greeted me wasn't Mom's.

"Hayden!"

"Dad?"

He was standing in the living room, arms open, and I didn't even think before running straight into them. He held me tight, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could actually breathe.

"What are you doing here?" I mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back, hands on my shoulders, his expression gentle but serious. "I came to see you. I have some news."

My stomach dropped. Nothing good ever started with "I have some news."

"I'm heading to Africa," he said. "The WHO needs medical personnel for a new initiative. I'll be gone for at least two years."

"Two years?" The words came out strangled. "No. No, Dad, you can't… you can't just leave me here. Not now. Not when Mom's…"

"Hayden." His voice was firm but kind. "Your mother told me about Jonathan."

I grabbed his arm. "Then you understand, right? You can't let her do this. You can't leave me with them. Don’t go to Africa. Please, I'll…"

"Sweetheart…"

"I'll finish high school online. I don't care. Just don't leave me here with Drake Fletcher as my stepbrother…"

"Hayden."

Mom's voice cut through my pleading. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, looking exhausted.

I glared at her. Dad squeezed my shoulder.

"Your mother wouldn't do anything to hurt you," he said quietly. "And she certainly wouldn't marry someone who wouldn't be good for you. Jonathan is a good man. I've known him a long time."

"You knew about this?" I felt betrayed all over again.

"Not about the engagement specifically, but..." Dad sighed. "Look, I know this is hard. But there's something else. Something good."

I waited, jaw clenched.

"Jonathan's offered to pay for your tuition. To Gothenburg University."

Everything stopped.

"What?"

"Gothenburg," Dad repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Full scholarship."

Gothenburg. The university I'd dreamed about since freshman year. The university I'd resigned myself to never attending because we could never afford it. The university where Chris was going.

"I... I'd be at Gothenburg?" My voice came out small. "With Chris?"

Mom's expression softened. "Yes, honey. You and Chris would be together."

My mind raced. Being in the same school as Chris. Same campus. Same everything. We'd always talked about it, but it had seemed impossible. And now...

Maybe this marriage thing wasn't the worst idea after all.

Dad must have seen the shift in my face because he smiled. "There's my girl. Now, I know I'm leaving soon, but I was hoping you'd spend tonight with me. Maybe grab dinner, watch one of those terrible movies you love?"

"But it's pre-prom night," I said automatically. Chris and I had plans… nothing big, just hanging out with the team.

"I know. But I won't see you for a long time, sweetheart."

I looked at my father. When would I see him again? Two years was forever.

"Okay," I whispered. "Yeah. Let's do it."

Chris would understand. It was just pre-prom, anyway. The real prom was tomorrow.

…

I stood in front of my mirror, smoothing down my dress for the hundredth time.

Chris and I had been planning prom night since freshman year. Two and a half years of dating, of waiting, of planning. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, I'd finally give myself to him completely.

My hands were shaking.

"Hayden!" Mom's voice drifted up the stairs. "Can you come down here for a second?"

I found her in the kitchen, holding a cream-colored envelope.

"The wedding invitations just arrived," she said, handing me one.

I opened it, scanning the elegant script. Jonathan Fletcher and Catherine Bellamy cordially invite you...

My eyes snagged on the date.

"This Saturday?" I nearly dropped the invitation. "Mom, that's in four days!"

"I know it seems fast…"

"Seems fast? It is fast! Why the rush? Are you pregnant or something?"

"Hayden!"

"Well?"

"No, I'm not pregnant." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Jonathan has business obligations that require... look, it's complicated. But we want to start our life together as soon as possible, and…"

The sound of an engine cut her off. Chris's car.

"He's here!" I grabbed my purse, already moving toward the door. "Later, Mom!"

I burst out the front door, my heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always did when I saw Chris. He was leaning against his car — a black SUV that his uncle had given him for his birthday — looking every inch the most popular guy at Olympic High. The tuxedo fit him perfectly, his hair styled just right, his smile confident and easy.

He was perfect.

I slid into the passenger seat, and he immediately pulled me in for a kiss.

"How's my girl?" he murmured against my lips.

"Better now." I pulled back, grinning. "Your tie looks amazing, by the way."

He glanced down, adjusting it slightly. "Not too thin? I don't want anyone outshining me tonight. Especially not that motherfucker Drake."

Right. Drake. My soon-to-be stepbrother.

"Actually," I said as Chris pulled out of the driveway, "I have good news. Really good news."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to Gothenburg. With you."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. For a second, he didn't say anything.

"Chris? Did you hear me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's... that's great, babe." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "How'd that happen?"

"Jonathan offered to pay my tuition. Full ride."

"Of course he did." Chris's jaw clenched. "So you and Drake are really going through with this whole 'living together' thing, huh?"

"It's not like I have a choice…"

"I just hate that he's going to be in your life." His voice dropped. "Everyone already says he's better than me on the ice. Now he gets to play happy family with my girlfriend too?"

I reached over, touching his arm. "Chris, he's not better than you. You're the captain. You're…"

"He is better, Hay. Everyone knows it. They just won't say it to my face." He glanced at me, something dark flickering in his eyes. "And he'll be at Gothenburg too. Probably try to get in the way of our relationship with the stupid stepbrother shit."

"That's not going to happen…"

"You don't know that." His voice was sharp. "You don't know what he's capable of."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just squeezed his arm and changed the subject.

…

The venue was already packed when we arrived. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a warm golden glow. Music pumped through speakers, and people were already dancing.

I waited for Chris to come around and open my door.

He didn't.

Instead, he climbed out, adjusted his jacket, and called over his shoulder: "Come on, babe!"

I tried to ignore the sting of disappointment as I opened my own door and hurried after him. Maybe he just didn't think about it. Maybe…

"Yo, Chris!" One of the hockey team guys jogged over with a huge grin. "Dude, last night was insane!"

The others crowded around, laughing and clapping Chris on the back.

"What happened last night?" I asked, smiling even though I felt weirdly left out.

They all exchanged glances.

"Just pre-prom stuff," Chris said quickly. "You know. Guy things."

Before I could ask more, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Oh my God, Hay!"

Felicia.

She glided over in a dress that was all silk and skin, her hair perfectly curled, her makeup flawless. She looked me up and down with that fake-sweet smile I'd learned to hate.

"I love your dress," she purred.

I barely had time to say thanks before she tilted her head, her smile sharpening.

"But isn't it a little... long? What are you, a nun?"

The guys burst out laughing. Heat crawled up my neck.

Felicia turned to them, flipping her hair. "Anyway, don't you boys clean up nice."

She moved toward Chris, and I watched helpless as she trailed her fingers across his shoulders.

"Chris, handsome," she murmured, her voice low and intimate. "I hope I didn't drain you too much last night."

Chris went rigid. The other guys shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in their shoes.

"Felicia…" Chris started.

"What happened last night?" I heard myself ask.

"Nothing," Chris said too quickly. "She's just talking about the drinks."

But Felicia just smiled, slow and satisfied, before walking away.

My chest felt tight. I turned toward the drink table, needing air, needing space, needing something…

And that's when I saw him.

Drake.

He stood at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall in a perfectly made suit, and his eyes were already on me. Those impossible blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

Then they flashed amber.

Just for a second. Just like before.

I shivered and looked away.

…

"And your Prom King is... Chris Walker!"

The room erupted in cheers. I clapped so hard my palms stung, my heart swelling with pride. This was it. He'd choose me as his queen, and everyone would see that we belonged together.

Chris took the stage, crown gleaming under the lights, and grabbed the microphone.

"Thanks, everyone!" His grin was wide, confident. "This is amazing. Really. And now I get to choose my queen."

He looked right at me.

My breath caught.

Then his gaze slid away.

"Hay." He stepped off the stage, coming toward me, his voice low, so no one could hear. "Listen, your dress is... it's great, but…"

"But what?"

"It's not really... queen material, you know?" He gestured vaguely at the length. "Felicia's dress is more what people expect. More... appropriate for pictures and stuff."

I stared at him. "You're not choosing me."

"It's not about you, babe. It's just about the dress. You understand, right?"

Before I could answer, he was back on stage.

"My Prom Queen is... Felicia James!"

The applause felt like it was happening underwater. I watched Felicia float up to the stage, watched her kiss Chris's cheek, watched them pose for photos while I stood there in my too-long, too-frumpy dress.

Maybe he was right. Maybe my dress was wrong.

I moved toward the stage anyway, ready to stand by his side even if I wasn't wearing a crown…

My heel caught on something.

Felicia's foot, stuck out just enough to send me stumbling.

I pitched forward, arms flailing, the floor rushing up to meet me…

Strong hands caught me.

Too close… too warm… too everything.

I gasped as I was pulled against a solid chest, my hands pressed flat against expensive fabric. The scent hit me immediately — smelled like rain and cedar and something darker, something that made my head spin.

Heat radiated from him like a furnace. Way hotter than Chris. Way hotter than anyone.

A spark shot through me where our bodies touched. Electric. Impossible.

I looked up.

Drake's blue eyes stared down at me, so close I could see gold flecks in the amber that flickered there.

"He's making a fool of you in front of the whole school, stepsister." His voice was low, almost gentle. "Are you going to keep standing there, or are you ready to leave?"

Stepsister.

The word doused the heat like ice water.

I shoved him away, stumbling back on my heels. "Don't touch me."

"You were about to hit the floor…"

"I don't need your help."

I turned and walked away, my face burning, my heart pounding for reasons I absolutely refused to think about.

Drake Fletcher was the enemy.

And I was not going to let him get under my skin.