[Currently being rewritten and updated chapter by chapter]
Book One in the "Hard Love" series.
It's hard being knocked down. And it's even harder getting back up.
Thalia Carter grew up on the south side of Chicago with a dead-beat dad and never real...
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My head is spinning. I feel light and floaty and I'm not entirely sure the past few minutes actually happened. I can hear my blood pumping in my ears and my eyelids are heavy. Overall, I feel high. Except I'm stone cold sober, so I know this blissed out daze is coming from the shell-shocked girl in my arms.
The completely horrified girl who looks like she's about to barf all over me out of embarrassment. Because standing five yards away from us at the T in the fake hallway are all of our friends.
Oliver. Nate. Fallon. Zoe.
The lights are back on, signaling that our game is over. How long was I kissing her? As soon as I'd found Thalia alone in a corner, looking like a lioness ready to pounce, everything else faded to dust. All I could see is her.
Thalia pushes off me, planting her feet firmly on the ground. But her legs wobble and I'm afraid she might fall, so I shift my hold to her waist and tighten it. She snaps her head up to me and glares with the same fire in her eyes she had only moments ago. Except this time she looks like she'd rather kill me than kiss me.
I back off and lift my hands away.
Then she bolts. Again.
Fuck. I string my hands through my hair as she takes off past our friends, not quite running but there's definitely a sense of urgency in her pace. I should've just stayed away from her. At least for a while, so she wouldn't regret kissing me like she clearly does.
But when I'm with her, she's all I see. She's all I know. Thalia is the sun and I'm caught in her orbit, unable to turn away. Everything about her draws me in–her smile, her laugh, the adorable little scrunch her nose makes when she's amused. She's bold and unafraid, but then I'll catch glimpses of her that seem to carry more weight than a seventeen-year-old should. She's strong.
Fallon nudges Zoe and nods her head sharply to the exit, and they take off after her after a set of quick, awkward goodbyes. Before I can process what I'm doing, I'm running to, only to be stopped by Oliver's hand on my chest.
"Let her go," he urges.
"What?" I scowl, because that's the worst idea I've ever heard. "Why?"
"Because she just ran away from you," Nate adds, as if it's obvious. There's a gentleness in his tone, but it still pisses me off.
"Because you guys walked in on us," I rasp desperately.
"You guys were full on going at it in public." Nate's lips curve into a wry smile. "There wasn't really anything to walk in on."
My scowl hardens into a permanent fixture. "You have no room to talk."
It feels like everywhere I look, Zoe and Nate are getting handsy with each other. In public, at the house in front of everyone; they have no shame or subtlety. I, at least, have the decency to be a smidge embarrassed about this disaster.
