The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(14)

I hid behind other people’s songs, too. Like “Yellow” by Coldplay. That was her favorite. It became “our song.” She thought I’d chosen it because it sounds good on an acoustic guitar. She never suspected that every lyric was a dedication to her. And she always cried, saying over and over again how talented I was. Gifted. Destined for greatness.

I didn’t believe her, but I knew I wanted to make music for the rest of my life. Violet showed me the way and I loved her for it. I loved her in a thousand ways, but she cherished our friendship above all else and so I gritted my teeth and respected that.

I let her feed herself lies about how terrible love was and how it ruined everything.

I let her listen to her parents argue and think that’s what happened to everyone.

And I’d promised to be her friend. Sealed it in blood.

To plunge the knife deeper, she still carried a torch for that bastard, River Whitmore. I suspected she kept her crush going because it was safe. Violet carried her shit close to her heart too, just in a different way from me.

But I couldn’t do it anymore. Tomorrow was the first day of school. I was about to face down another year—our senior year of high school—with Violet never knowing how I felt. I had to tell her before it was too late. Convince her to set aside her fear and see how right we were together. How fucking perfect.

How we just fit.

Violet must’ve been waiting for me, since the window flew open the second I came around the side of her house.

“Get in here, quick!”

She waved me up, a white, rectangular envelope flapping in her hands. Her parents didn’t care if I came in the front door or not. But every night I visited her, I climbed up the trellis like Romeo does in the play. Except in this version, Juliet friend-zoned Romeo. Hard.

I pushed my guitar case through the window first, and Vi carefully set it aside while I crawled in and hopped down from the desk, like I always did. Also, like usual, I took a breath to drink her in.

Violet McNamara had been a self-proclaimed geek when I first met her, but over the last four years, she’d morphed from a warm, fuzzy caterpillar into a butterfly—deep blue eyes, shiny black hair, and a body kept fit with soccer but rounded everywhere that mattered to guys.

To me, she’d already been perfect.

I loved how she used to run her tongue over her braces when she was thinking hard, or how she’d polish her glasses on the front of her shirt like a college professor, serious and smart.

So fucking smart.

Two years ago, she got her braces off. Shortly after that, she’d gotten whacked in the face playing soccer. I guessed her new contact lenses were a shitty prescription since she still couldn’t see how beautiful she was. Or maybe she did, though she’d never say so. But her confidence grew with her looks. She stopped hanging around with just Shiloh and me all the time and started hanging around study group friends, girls on her soccer team; she joined debate and the Math & Science club. Everyone loved her, including the popular kids.

Kids like River fucking Whitmore.

I coughed and diverted my attention to the envelope in her hand. “You got it?”

“I did!” she said, then narrowed her eyes at me. “How are your numbers?”

“I—what? They’re fine.”

“When did you last eat?”

I rolled my eyes, but her concern made me feel warm all over. “After work. Before I got on the bus.”

Violet’s large, impossibly dark blue eyes narrowed, studying me the same way I imagine she’d size up her future patients.

“Can I…?”

I smirked as she grabbed my wrist to look at the numbers on the smartwatch that was connected to my Continuous Glucose Monitor. The small CGM device was attached to my stomach with a sensor imbedded with a needle under my skin. It continuously monitored my glucose levels and sent the numbers to my watch. If they got too high or low, the watch made an alarm. A gift, courtesy of the State of California, since we were too poor to afford it on our own.

“Okay,” Violet said slowly, releasing my arm. “The numbers are okay, but if you need a snack or something, tell me.”

“Quit wasting time and tell me. Are you in or not?”

“I haven’t opened it. Waiting for you.” She started to tear open the envelope that had UCSC Medical Center’s logo embossed on the front, then stopped. “What if they don’t want me?”

“How could they not want you?”

How could anyone?

“The Patience Care Volunteer program is super competitive,” she began, but I waved her off.

“Your GPA is a four-point-a-million and you aced the interview. Not to mention, you were born for this. So open the envelope already and get your assignment.”

“Right. Okay.”

Violet opened the envelope. The smile that broke over her face was going straight into my next song.

“Holy shit,” she breathed and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes scanned the first page. “I’m in. I’m in!”

She threw her arms around my neck. Her excitement hummed through her body and I held her as tightly as I dared. I inhaled her scent—flowery and clean—and let my hand briefly touch the silk of her hair. Her breasts pressed against my chest and had to fight to keep my hands from sliding down the slim contours of her sides, down to her wide hips and rounded ass. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was luscious…as my seventeen-year-old body liked to remind me of, frequently.