Seventeen-year-old Hazel never saw having a sick mom in her future. And the last thing she expected was for her new next-door neighbor to give her a checklist that would change everything.
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After Hazel Winter's mom got sick, all emotion vanishe...
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The following Monday at school, my mind is reeling with images of this past Thursday. The way River held my waist. The way his fingernails dug into my side from how good our kiss was like he never wanted it to end.
I don't know what's gotten into me. Since when am I daydreaming about boys? Or boy, I should say? For as long as I can remember, my thoughts have consumed fictional people. I'd think about their lives, and I'd think about what I'd like to happen next for their story. I was in the middle of writing, but lately, I'm thinking about my story. I'm thinking about what my story could be like with River in it, and the thought is terrifying.
I'm busy rummaging around in my locker for my textbooks when I see a familiar gleam of long, black hair from the corner of my eye. I close my locker to find Joy staring back at me, the same smile on her face that she always seems to have, like nothing bad in the world has ever happened to her. Like her boyfriend didn't just cheat on her a few weeks ago.
She pops her gum before she asks, "Are you going to the winter formal?"
Joy knows me well enough by now. I took River's advice and texted her the night he bought me P.F. Chang's, and we've texted on and off for the past week. She needed to vent about missing her ex, and I tried to be considerate, texting her back the only advice I could think of, which was to leave him the hell alone. He cheated on her for a reason. That doesn't just happen out of nowhere; from what I can tell, Joy is the sweetest person alive. There isn't an angry bone in her body, and she's loyal to the core. If her ex wanted to fuck it up, then let him. Plenty of guys would kill to have a girlfriend like Joy.
Come to think of it, maybe Joy doesn't know me well enough to know that the winter formal is the last place I would ever end up. We've only talked about her ex or her love for cosmetics, and I usually listen rather than speak.
"Dances aren't my thing," I tell her bluntly, tucking my textbook into the crease of my elbow. "I'm not just saying that to say it. I'm not one of those girls who pretend not to like dances to look cool. I genuinely despise dancing. It's not my idea of fun."
She raises a brow. "Even if River took you?"
"What?" Oh god, did he tell her what happened on Thursday? "Why would you say that?"
"I'm not stupid, Hazel. I could tell you liked him the night of Dallas's party. The minute he said he liked a girl in sweatpants, your face turned about as red as my nails," she replies as she glances down at her fresh manicure. They're so bright they're almost blinding, "River is probably going to ask you. All the guys are gossiping about who they'll bring."
"And River said he was going to bring me?" I squeak, and a weird noise tumbles out of my throat from the embarrassment, my face turning as red as her nails again.
River better not ask me because the answer will be no. I don't like dances, and River at least knows me well enough to know that, right? He wouldn't force me into an awkward situation where I had to say yes.
