A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)

A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)
Suzanne Young



Chapter 1

I SIT ON THE FRONT STEPS of St. Vincent’s Cathedral and pick at the moss nestled in the cracks of the concrete. I’m waiting for Sarah—as usual. She begged me all through calculus to go shopping with her, even though she knows I don’t have the money for it. She promised it’d be fun. And she promised that this time she wouldn’t be late picking me up. I rarely trust her promises, and yet I’m still here.

Traffic whizzes past the church and I look across the street to the bus stop. A thin woman is alone on the bench, a black umbrella open above her, blocking her face. But it’s not raining. I glance up at the blue cloudless sky over Portland. The rainy season hasn’t started yet. We have until November at least.

Just then a drop of water hits my hand. Then another smacks my cheek. No way. When I look across the street again, the woman has moved to rest the umbrella on her shoulder. She’s smiling at me, her blond hair spilling over her black jacket, her boots zipped high on her calf. She looks familiar. Something about her—

A bus pulls up to the stop, erasing her from my view. The sprinkles continue and I look back at the church, considering going inside for cover. The loud rumble of the bus pulling away startles me, and when I look it’s gone and so is the woman.

And then the rain stops.

“Charlotte,” Harlin whispers in my ear, and I jump. I hadn’t heard him walk up.

I look sideways at my boyfriend as he straightens, grinning down at me. His unshaven chin and messy dark hair are a delicious contrast to me, sitting here in a plaid schoolgirl outfit with my fine, straight blond hair neatly combed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, standing up. “Sudden urge to confess your sins?” Harlin lives on the other side of town with his older brothers. Six months ago he’d decided to drop out of St. Vincent’s Academy, and although I’d hoped he’d enroll somewhere else, so far he hasn’t.

“Nah,” Harlin says. “Pretty sure you’re the only thing that could get me this close to church again.”

“I sound inspiring.”

He laughs. “Well, that and I thought you might need a ride. Figured I’d swing by and check before heading to my mother’s. I’ve been summoned for a chat.” He looks away, clearly not wanting to talk about her. He never does.

I step closer and take his hand. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

He glances at me, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Is that right?” He pulls me into him and I get on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leans down, his mouth barely grazing mine. “How glad?”

I smile, motioning toward the church. “Maybe not here?” Harlin shrugs and grins wickedly before kissing me again.

“You absolutely need confession,” I whisper, and when he laughs, I take out my phone and check the time. “Sarah’s nearly forty-five minutes late,” I say, exhaling.

“You sound surprised. When in your life has Sarah ever been on time?” Harlin asks.

“Once last summer . . . Wait. Never mind. She sent her driver instead.”

“I’m coming!” Sarah calls from around the corner. Before I even see her, I can hear the sound of her shoes clacking on the pavement until she finally appears near the street sign. She waves to me, gasping dramatically for air.

“And she arrives . . .” Harlin says, putting his arm over my shoulders. He turns and the scruff on his chin prickles my cheek. “Come to my house after?” he asks, his breath warm on my face.

“Mm-hmm.” I close my eyes, loving the feeling of him so close. The security of his arm around me.

“Gross, you two,” Sarah says, smoothing her red hair as she walks up. She’s still in her uniform, although it’s rolled at the waist, the hem well above regulation length. She’s switched out the usual black loafers for a scandalously high pair of spiked heels. Sarah likes to say that St. Vincent’s dress code is only for the fashionably challenged. Maybe that’s why my skirt is currently grazing my kneecap.

Unlike Sarah, I’m at St. Vincent’s on a “tuition adjustment,” which is code for I can’t afford it. It’s not like we’re that poor, but when the yearly private school dues are enough to buy a BMW, it’s a little tough to work into the family budget.

Truth be told, St. Vincent’s is the best school in the state—even if half the people here are snobs. And that definitely includes Sarah. But at least she’s my snob.

“Hey, Harlin,” she says, glancing over at him. “You here for church, or will you spontaneously combust if you walk in?”

“Not today,” he answers. “Seems they have a strict one-Antichrist-per-service rule, and you fill the quota.”

“Ah, well. Guess I’ll save a seat for you in the netherworld, then?”

Harlin grins. “Appreciate it.”

Sarah turns to me, looking impatient. “Are you ready? I have ten zillion things to do before tonight.”

I nod, sure that she’s exaggerating. It’s probably more like five zillion. Sarah’s what the nuns like to call a “social butterfly”—not to be confused with a tramp. Which is what some of the other girls in our class like to call her. Of course, Sarah’s family is richer than all of them combined, so they’d never say it to her face.