Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(66)

Without having ever really traveled, she moved here. Away from her parents and sister.

These thoughts just crash into me, trying to process. Trying to understand. Because I see myself trying to do the same fucking thing, and I’m not sure I’d have the courage to step one foot out the door.

I stare at the wall, for about three minutes total. Just staring and imagining that giant leap into the unknown.

I don’t know how…I can only feel fear.

Currently…





What are you eating: vanilla birthday cake that I made for my sister. I snuck downstairs for a slice & brought it back up





What the fuck. Why is she sneaking downstairs in her own house? Did they lock her up there? You know what, I don’t like her family. It’s a declaration I make in my head with limited facts from a Tumblr questionnaire. I get that. But I don’t give two shits. I’m sticking by it.

What are you drinking: a flat can of Fizz Life



What are you waiting for: this birthday party to end





Seriously. What happened?

Do you want kids: idk I don’t think about that



Marriage: I don’t mind either way



Career: too soon to tell





What do you like…





Hugs or kisses: hugs for now





Has a guy ever even hugged her? It’s my only thought. One that I’m sure will be plaguing me all night.

Shorter or taller: taller than me. Even if it’s only a little taller. That works too.



Older or younger: older but not too old—I couldn’t do what Daisy Calloway does with her boyfriend, who’s like seven or eight years older (I can’t remember).





And that concludes the questionnaire. She meant it when she said it was personal. I pull my knees up and rest my elbows on them, staring off at the ground.

Shit.

I thought the point of reading that was to get answers, but now I have a thousand more questions. My heart pounds harder, my pulse fast. My body has responded like I chugged a Lightning Bolt!

The door to the break room opens, and I immediately freeze, only now realizing that my legs have been jostling.

“Garrison? Are you in here?”

Lily Calloway.

Great. I’m about to get fired. I rub my temple and run my hands up to my hair, aggressively pulling at it for a second before taking a breath. And then, I slowly stand.

“Yeah?”

She keeps the door propped open, not edging further towards me. “The Avengers vs. X-Men issues need restocking, and they need more hands behind the counter.”

She’s not firing me?

I stare at her blankly for a second before nodding. “Yeah, fine.”

She squints a little. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I motion towards the door. “You going?”

She opens her mouth like she might say something, but then someone calls her from the break room. She turns back to me quickly. “Forget about the comics. Just go help up front.” Her words drift as she rushes out to take care of something else.

I let out a breath of relief.

I still have this job.

And that has to count for something.





21 PRESENT DAY – December


Philadelphia, Pennsylvania





WILLOW HALE

Age 20





As soon as my plane lands on the tarmac, a text from Garrison pings my phone. Nervous, giddy butterflies invade my belly. Countdown to seeing my boyfriend: minutes away. It somehow doesn’t even feel real.

I click into my cell, the plane rumbling to a halt and the other passengers grabbing suitcases from overhead.

Garrison: Waiting at baggage for you.





He’s waiting for me. I take a deep breath, excitement trouncing nerves.

And then my phone rings.

But it’s not Garrison.

“Hey?” I answer quietly, crammed in a window seat and hugging my backpack on my lap.

“Did you land yet?” Ryke asks.

In the background, I hear Lo retort, “She already did. I’m telling you the flight tracker says so.”

Ryke growls back to him, “Let me ask our fucking sister, Lo.”

Our sister.

It still rings through me like a soft padded hammer to a bell, even after two years of knowing Ryke is also my brother.

I can feel a smile on my lips. Palm sweaty, I adjust my grip on my phone and stare out at the tarmac. “Yep, I’ve landed.”

I’m back.

“We’re waiting in the car,” Ryke tells me.

Lo chimes in, “Paparazzi won’t hound you that way. Garrison should be at baggage.”

“Yeah, he texted already.”

“Great,” Lo says. “Can’t wait to see you.” He mumbles something to Ryke about a honking asshole nearby, and after a few see you soons, we hang up.

I’m thankful there’ll be less chaos when I reach baggage claim. Lo and Ryke would definitely bring a stampede of adoring fans.

They wanted me to fly on the family private jet, but I chose commercial, wedged in the back near the growling engines.