Chasing Sunrise: A Sweet YA Enemies-to Lovers Romance (Inn for the Summer)
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Chasing Sunrise
Inn for the Summer #1
Sara Jane Woodley
Cover Photography By
Chris Joel Campbell Via Creative Market
Eleventh Avenue Publishing
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Contents
1. Kiara
2. Jonathan
3. Kiara
4. Kiara
5. Kiara
6. Jonathan
7. Kiara
8. Jonathan
9. Jonathan
10. Kiara
11. Jonathan
12. Kiara
13. Kiara
14. Jonathan
15. Kiara
16. Jonathan
17. Kiara
18. Kiara
19. Jonathan
20. Kiara
21. Kiara
22. Jonathan
23. Kiara
24. Jonathan
25. Kiara
26. Jonathan
27. Kiara
28. Jonathan
29. Kiara
30. Kiara
31. Kiara
32. Jonathan
33. Kiara
34. Jonathan
35. Kiara
36. Jonathan
37. Kiara
38. Jonathan
39. Kiara
40. Jonathan
41. Kiara
42. Jonathan
43. Kiara
44. Jonathan
45. Kiara
46. Jonathan
47. Kiara
48. Kiara
49. Jonathan
50. Kiara
51. Kiara
52. Jonathan
53. Kiara
54. Jonathan
55. Jonathan
56. Kiara
57. Jonathan
58. Jonathan
59. Jonathan
60. Kiara
61. Kiara
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1
Kiara
“I’m home!” I call out as I shut the door, already knowing I won’t get a response.
Well, that isn’t entirely true. As I drop my keys in the bowl, my cat Sebastian strolls elegantly around the corner, mid-yawn and eyes half-shut. I’ve woken him from his late-afternoon nap.
“Hello, sir.” I scratch his head. Sebastian has a dapper look, his white booties matching the little mustache under his nose. He meows loudly as I make my way to the kitchen.
“I had a great day, thank you.” I pour cat food into his empty bowl. Clearly, my mom forgot to top up his food earlier today. Sebastian winds between my legs, almost tripping me, then shoves his face in the bowl and crunches away.
As soon as Sebastian is happily eating, I go to my bedroom upstairs, and drop my backpack with a loud thump. Today was the last day of school — the last day of Junior Year — and I couldn’t be happier. In a year, I’ll be heading into the world. In a year, I can finally leave this town. Every day is a step closer to fulfilling my dream of living literally anywhere but here.
The next chapter starts tomorrow. Every summer, Legacy Inn hires five local students. This year, I'm one of the lucky few to be selected. I’ll be working as their student photographer. It’s a rite of passage at Edendale High to apply for a summer job with Legacy Inn, but very few of us get these prestigious positions.
Sighing happily, I dig around the back of my closet for my suitcase and flop it open onto the bed.
“Let’s see. Summer in the mountains. What does one pack?” I cock my eyebrow at Sebastian, who has devoured his food and is now rubbing against the door frame. “Any advice?”
Sebastian considers various options before perching himself on top of my pile of clean clothes.
“Smart boy.” I place my camera and all of its accessories into a protective case that fits neatly in my suitcase. My trusted Fujifilm X-T4 is like a limb. It’s my ticket out of this town, and it comes with me wherever I go. It’s also the most expensive thing I own. I spent a year babysitting the Nightmare at the End of the Block in order to afford it. All it took was an endless amount of diapers, ear-splitting tantrums, and accepting that everything I owned would smell vaguely of spoiled milk.
I shudder at the memory, then throw jeans and sweatpants into the suitcase, along with some sweaters. I bring a bathing suit for good measure, though I don’t like to swim — who knows what’s swimming beneath me? And what if the algae gets tangled around my legs? The mountain lakes in Montana are known for being crystal clear and refreshing, so this is probably my best shot at swimming worry-free. But if I’m honest, I’d rather capture the lakes in photos than actually swim in them.
I want to travel and live a life of adventure, but the world terrifies me. I’m not blind to the irony; it’s an internal conflict I choose to ignore.
I reluctantly throw a few dresses and skirts into the suitcase. The Inn has weddings and garden parties during the summer and, as the photographer, I must look nice to attend. Which is unfortunate — my mom discourages wearing “overly feminine” clothes. The last time I wore a dress and heels, I was so unused to the height, I sprained my ankle trying to navigate a crack in the sidewalk.
But these weddings could be my big break — my chance for the future of my dreams. I’m already dreading having to make conversation with all of these absurdly cheerful people going on about love. However, I know wedding photos could be the perfect additions to my portfolio. When put through that lens, packing dresses and makeup doesn’t seem so bad.
In what feels like a matter of minutes, I’m done packing. I wander back into the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.
“Sebastian, what do you think?” I hold up a box of mac and cheese in one hand and cereal in the other. “Which would mom pick?”
Sebastian stares at me blankly, meowing loudly in response. He’s sitting nicely by his bowl with his feet turned out. Always the gentleman.
His eyes dart to the mac and cheese, and it’s the deciding factor. “Smart boy. You can never go wrong with cheese.”
I set a pot of water on the stove, add two shakes of salt, and turn the burner to max. While I’m literally watching a pot of water and urging it to boil, I get a text from my mom.
Mom: Working late, sorry sweetie. I left a frozen lasagna from Colman’s in the fridge. Directions are on the back. I should be home before you go to bed. Love you.
Too late for lasagna.
I toss my phone onto the counter, rolling my eyes. I didn’t actually expect her to be here tonight, but I’m still disappointed. As the COO of Echo Home Builders, my mom is always mid-project, finishing projects, or dreaming up new projects. It would’ve been nice to have a last dinner together before I go away for three months.
Sebastian ambles to the center of the kitchen and dramatically flops to his side.
“Looks like you’re my dinner date again.” I poke his belly with my foot. He instinctively stretches out his claws and clutches my sock. After a brief skirmish, I pull away.
Glancing towards the dining table, I spot an issue of Glacier Journal lying open from y
esterday. I shove it to the floor.
I’d received my rejection letter earlier today.
The Glacier Journal is a major publication in our town. Their features and editorials are circulated and shared around the world. In their last issue, they had a riveting six-page feature on a climbing expedition to Glacier National Park. The photos were unbelievable. I’m lucky to live in one of the most beautiful areas of Montana — or so people tell me — and the Glacier Journal is at the forefront of the tourism industry around here. Getting my photos published in their magazine would’ve been a massive step-up for me.
Awards, photo prints, and framed originals adorn the walls of our house — all work I’ve done over the years. This past year, I even had a couple photos featured in our town’s gazette. I win awards for photography with our school’s newspaper every year. Actually, this year’s award sits heavily at the bottom of my backpack. The photo was a particularly engaging shot that went viral in my high school — or as viral as can be in Edendale. And, as with anything that goes viral, it caused a few problems, which I choose to ignore.
I applied for Glacier thinking that I’d be a shoo-in. I sent them my best and brightest photos taken around the area. Once, I set up my camera as a storm rolled in and captured photos as the storm hit. Unfortunately, the rain came much sooner than expected, and I squelched home as wet as if I’d showered fully clothed. The other photo I sent was of a herd of elk. I sat in my car for 10 straight hours, waiting for the shot, sustained by Pepsi and Nacho Cheese Doritos.
Glacier Journal was the first major magazine I’d applied to. And it fell flat, to my utter disappointment.
I finish making my mac and cheese, then take a seat at the table. My dinner date, Sebastian, remains on the floor, snoring gently. I dig into my bowl of steaming mac and cheese and flip open the Legacy Inn’s marketing brochure, perusing the photos. They aren’t bad photos by any stretch of the imagination, they just seem outdated.
I chuckle at a photo of a big fish and remember my conversation with Ava earlier today.
“You? Going out in nature?” Ava laughed and closed her locker for the last time this year. She lugged her violin in one hand and the rest of her gear in her other hand.
“Is that so hard to believe? Wait. Don’t answer that.” I grabbed Ava’s violin while she juggled the rest of her stuff. Ava is my best friend at Edendale High School. We have a similar love for art — me for photography, her for music.
“Legacy Inn is my chance to strengthen my portfolio,” I said as we walked the halls. “It’s surrounded by lakes, forests, mountains, all that outdoor stuff. I’ll be able to take some killer nature shots!”
Ava laughed again, her curly hair bouncing with every step. “Says the girl who only visits the mountains on an annual basis.”
“What’s the rush? It’s not like they’re going anywhere.” I smirk, but I know she’s right. “I’ll visit the mountains everyday if it means becoming a photographer and getting the chance to travel the world. Plus, there’ll be weddings and events. Av, think of the floofy white dresses.”
Ava snorts. “The girl who loves the indoors and despises formal wear is heading out for a summer of mountains and marriages.”
“Mountains, marriages, and photography. Don’t forget the most important part.”
Photos are my everything.
I scrape the bottom of the bowl to catch the last piece of lingering macaroni. I’ll miss Ava when I go to Legacy Inn, but I know she’ll be busy with band camp this summer. All she has are her big dreams and violin, but when you have determination like hers, that’s all you need.
I flip through the Inn’s brochure again, my anticipation building. The Legacy Inn and it’s surrounding area are stunning, even if the photos in the brochure are outdated. I can only imagine the amazing lifestyle and nature shots I’ll be taking this summer with my pro camera. Glacier will be knocking down my door for photos.
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life.
I’m counting down the minutes.
2
Jonathan
“This is your chance to shine, Jonathan,” Dad’s voice reverberates around our dining room table.
I have one piece of pasta left on my plate and I shift it around in circles, gazing at it as though watching the best soccer match of the season. Usually, these dinners go by quickly if I keep my head down and nod frequently. I tune in and out of the conversation, knowing that the topic is about me but doesn’t necessarily include me.
“Alan, he knows that.” Mom flips her blonde bobbed hair over her shoulder. She’s still wearing her work clothes. The meal feels more like a college interview than a family dinner. And I would know, with all the training they’ve been putting me through. “He’ll work hard at soccer camp this summer. Won’t you, Jonathan?”
“Definitely,” I say robotically. I toss the final piece of pasta into my mouth. The cheesy pasta dish we had for dinner was a “reward” for all of my hard work on my school’s soccer team.
Mom whipped up the meal while she was ranting about how summer training camps groom high schoolers for college soccer. When I got home, I didn’t have time to drop my backpack in my room, or tell her about my last day of school. My parents are determined to make sure I’m ready for training camp tomorrow. Apparently, this means emphasizing how much this will change everything and set the course of my life in a new and exciting direction. They’ve memorized the marketing material verbatim.
“All I’m saying is that, if you do well, we could be looking at a phenomenal scholarship. You had a great junior year — state champion MVP. But this is the next step. Show them what you can do as a midfielder and you’ll get a full-ride at the best colleges in the country.”
With the amount of times I’ve heard my dad say this over the past month, I’m starting to think I’m living the movie Groundhog Day.
Meanwhile, he has pasta stuck in his mustache and I’m keeping tabs to see when it falls off.
My acceptance letter for Momentum Soccer Camp came in the mail a month ago, and my parents have hardly spoken of anything else since. The past few weeks have been all about Momentum and how this is my big break. There was one day that we didn’t speak about Momentum, but it was only because my parents were fawning over our win in the State Finals. The Edendale Eagles brought home the gold once again.
The funny thing? I never applied for Momentum — my parents applied for me. If I had my pick, I would have done any number of things this summer that did not involve soccer. My love for soccer died around the time my junior coach mentioned I had a future in the sport and my parents started forcing me into regular 6am workouts.
Given their excitement, I didn’t want to let them down by opting not to go to Momentum. So I said I’d go. And I meant it.
At least, I did until three days ago.
A break comes in their conversation about the glory of Momentum, and I take advantage of the silence. I jump up from the table, clear my plate and put it in the dishwasher, then grab my backpack off the counter.
“Going to my room.” I swipe a chocolate bar from my mom’s hidden stash. I’m supposed to regulate sugar intake, and my mom is monitoring my diet for optimal performance, but there’s only so much grilled chicken and broccoli a guy can take.
The chocolate bar is out of the wrapper and in my mouth before I even make it to my bedroom. I close my eyes and savor the rich taste, grateful that I can have as many cheat days as I want this summer.
My room is sparkling clean and my suitcase is open on my bed, soccer cleats carefully positioned on top. Looks like Mom got a head start.
With a sigh, I open my phone and see a message from Troy, my best friend.
Troy: Yo, have you told your parents?
Jonathan: No way. Dad’s head would explode and Mom would launch into her classic “after everything we’ve done for you” guilt trip. No thanks. As far as you know, I’m at Momentum this summer.
Troy: K, have a good time bro, keep
in touch.
I stash my phone and haphazardly stuff clothes into my suitcase. I fold my soccer jersey, cleats and other gear nicely on top, in case my mom opens my suitcase later. I know my parents mean well, but the next three months can’t come fast enough.
Troy is the only one who knows where I’m going this summer. He’s the best defender on the Edendale Eagles, and he’s planning on applying for Momentum next year. This summer, he’s sticking around town and doing recon for me, making sure no one finds out my secret.
As my parents said, I am leaving tomorrow.
But what they don’t know is that I won’t be going to Momentum Soccer Camp.
3
Kiara
The rumble of the bus lulls me into a daydream. I left the house early this morning to catch the first bus out of town. Now, looking out the window, music blaring through my headphones, the landscape changes before my eyes. The city of Edendale gives way to the foothills, and the foothills to mountains. Periodically, I lift my camera to my face and snap a photo of the scenery.