BELONGS TO ME

Chapter 1

Camila

The drive to Oceanside is usually a peaceful one, but my brother, Carl, and his two best friends, Shawn and Harry , came to an unspoken agreement last night that "one more," meant one more twelve-pack. So out they stayed, saying drunken goodbyes to our classmates at the very last summer party to be had in our hometown.

My girl Hailee and I knew better than to party hard the night before a drive, so we headed home early to finish packing for our final trip to the beach before college life begins.

A trip that should have taken no more than three and a half hours, yet we've already been in this damn SUV for five. We learned years ago that long drives with pouty, hungover man-boys are not fun, but here we are again, willing yet slightly annoyed participants in the 'how many times does one man have to stop to piss' experiment.

The answer Is seven. We stopped seven times already thanks to Harry 's baby bladder.

At least they seem to have sobered up in the last fifteen minutes, finally allowing us to turn the music up loud enough to where we can actually hear it.

Honestly, I shouldn't complain.

Group car rides are pretty much the only time I get to feign innocence when I lean a little further into the star player of my fantasies, more commonly known as my brother's best friend.

'Play but don't push' is the game I'm forced to settle for and I'm good at it. Probably because I've had the better part of six years to perfect it.

See, the day Shawn and his family moved in across the street, I saw him first. It was as if an invisible stamp came down and pressed across his forehead, a big fat red label that screamed mine.

Sure, I was only in junior high, but I'd seen The Boy Next Door. I understood the power of obsession and mine started the minute I laid eyes on him. Granted, mine wasn't the murderous sort, and watching that movie gave me hardcore, unachievable body goals, but all that's beside the point.

Shawn Mendes had arrived in the neighborhood, and I was determined to be the one to show him around it, so I pressed the brakes on my bike at the edge of his lawn, gaining his attention.

The minute his brace-face smiled at me from across the yard, my twin appeared out of nowhere, something he's inconveniently good at.

Carl rushed him, tackled him to the ground, and when he stood, he fed Shawn a line I sometimes wish he'd choke on.

He growled, "Stay away from my 'little sister!'"

In horror, I watched as Shawn hopped to his feet, literally, like some sort of spider monkey shit. I held my breath, readying for the fight I suspected to follow—yeah, my brother was known to knock a kid out when it came to me—but then Shawn laughed and we all fell silent.

The brown-haired boy turned to my brother with grass in his mouth, a grin curving it, and asked Carl what football team he played for. He was looking for one to join.

I huffed and rode off, because I knew with that single question asked, Carl and Harry had a new best friend, and I was, once again, colored in red, an invisible back slashed circle painted across me.

In the span of five minutes, my brother's duo grew into a trio, and our house became their hangout spot of choice. I never understood the whole forbidden fruit thing until then, how not having something only made you want it more.

It's a bunch of bull If you ask me.

Unfortunately for me, no one did, so I sat back, forced to watch as the jocks of junior high became the hotties of high school.