I nod and make a mental note not to hug Kingsley again unless he asks me to. Then we go inside.
We get grounded for a month for digging the hole and for wandering into the woods. But we’re allowed to hang out with each other, so it’s not that bad of a punishment. I think the only reason they allow it, though, is so our moms can still have their girls’ day.
We have to fill the hole up, too, but since my hands are messed up, Foster and Kingsley offer to do it. I like them a little bit more for it.
After that, Foster and Kingsley start coming over to my house a lot. Well, Foster does but I don’t see Kingsley for about a month. When I ask Foster why, he says its because Kingsley is hanging out with his own friends, which makes me kind of sad. But eventually, Kingsley starts coming over again.
Every time they come to my house, Foster sneaks into the woods to look for my necklace. He never does find it, but I appreciate him trying. That’s when I start really liking him.
As for Kingsley, I’m not as close with him as I am with Foster, but we’re still friends. That is until my twelfth birthday. That day, I decide it might be better to not be Kingsley’s friend anymore.
Two
Harlynn
Twelve years later…
I’ve never thought of myself as one of those sappy, lovey-dovey, get all swoony over a guy sort of girls. Sure, I like guys. I just don’t get all gushy and flustered whenever one gives me attention. Take the dude in front of me. His name is Grey, and he’s considered one of the most popular guys in Sunnyvale. All through high school, girls were all over him, and he took advantage of it, changing girlfriends about as much as I change hair colors, which I do every few months.
Now that we’ve graduated, I wonder if Grey will be able to carry his popularity through college. Or will he have peaked in high school? Who really knows? And honestly, I don’t care about Grey. He’s a douchebag and loves to talk about himself. Just like he is right now.
“Look, I know you don’t get it, but could you at least try to show me some respect? God, Harlynn, do you even realize how many championships I’ve won? I didn’t peak in high school.” He takes a sip from the plastic cup he’s holding. “I’m a badass. I don’t know why you’ve never understood that.”
Yeah, okay, so this conversation might be a little bit my fault.
After Grey cornered me at the bonfire and proceeded to tell me for the umpteenth time how amazing he is, I may have let it slip that perhaps he peaked in high school. It was mostly just to get him to leave me alone. Obviously, it didn’t work. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.
Ever since freshman year after I turned down his invite to go to a dance, he’s been trying to get me to go out with him. While I felt bad for rejecting him, there was no way I could’ve accepted his dance invite. Or, well, his dance demand, since he basically walked up to me, put his arm around my shoulders, and said, “Hey, baby, it’s your lucky day, because I’m going to take you to the dance.” When I politely told him, “No thank you,” and slipped out from underneath his arm, he became extremely irritated, but not enough to stop asking me out. He does it every so often when he’s between girlfriends. And every single time, I turn him down. I’m not sure why he’s so persistent, but I wonder if he secretly gets off on it. I grew tired of it a long time ago and can’t wait for college to start since he’s going to one clear across the country while I’m going to the local college. That means I’ll be far away from him and his need to bug me. Seriously, the guy needs to learn that no means no.
“I don’t get you,” Grey continues to babble on. “Every girl would love to be in your shoes.”
Oh god, here we go again.
I arch a brow. “And why’s that?”
He gapes at me. “Because I’ve asked you out like twenty times!”
“And I’ve said no to all those twenty times,” I remind him then take a sip of my beer. “Newsflash: not every girl wants to date you. And no girl wants to repeatedly have to turn a guy down.”
His lips kick up into a smirk, and he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Then stop turning me down.”
His touch makes my skin crawl.
I start to turn to leave, but he folds his fingers around my arm.
“Hey, I’m sorry. That was probably too pushy, right?”
I give him a blank stare. Is he being serious? Pushy is practically his middle name.
“Yeah, just a bit.”
“All right, I’ll back off.” His gaze drops to the cup in my hand. “In fact, let me refill your drink as an apology for being so damn annoying.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Oh, come on. I’m trying to be nice here.”
“So am I, but you’re not taking the hint.” I try to step back, but he tightens his hold on my arm.
I’m about one step away from tossing my drink in his face, not just for hitting on me again but for touching me unwelcomingly, when someone slips an arm around my waist.
Unlike Grey, this touch is welcomed.
Grey immediately releases me.
“Hey,” Foster whispers in my ear. “Everything okay?”
I discreetly breathe in his scent; cologne, campfire, and something light and sweet. It reminds me of when we were little and our families would go camping together. Back then, Foster and I were best friends—still are. But around the age of fifteen, I fell in love with him. And not in a best friend sort of way. No, I love him, love him. Love spending time with him. Love the way he smells. Love his smile. Love the way he laughs. Love the way his dark hair falls into his eyes …
Okay, maybe I do get sort of lovey-dovey about guys sometimes, but only on the inside. On the outside, I’m as cool as I always am, which I guess isn’t really that cool. Truthfully, I’m sort of awkward and strange.
I love reading and writing more than going out. I’m obsessed with anything that has to do with steampunk, Alice in Wonderland, and zombies. I prefer clunky boots over high heels, jeans and T-shirts over dresses, facial piercings over diamond necklaces and, like I mentioned before, love dying my hair all sorts of crazy colors. Right now, it’s brown about halfway down—my normal color—but toward the bottom, the strands bleed into various shades of purple and indigo. It’s pretty damn badass if I do say so myself, but not everyone is a fan of it. Foster is always telling me that he loves the natural color of my hair and that the crazy colors make me seem wilder than I really am. I’ve thought about not dying it anymore because of that, but a tiny part of me, a tiny part I rarely admit exists, likes the idea that I look a bit wild.
But I’ll never tell anyone that aloud. Especially Foster.
My gaze drifts to Foster as he brushes his fingers through my hair. He’s looking at me with concern, but that’s nothing new.
He’s always worrying about me, because he’s my best friend, and because, back when we started high school, our dads gave him a lecture about keeping an eye on me and making sure no one ever hurt me.
Yeah, both our parents are besties, so we were pretty much destined to be best friends. Well, I guess I could say that if it weren’t for Kingsley, who I am no longer friends with. Kingsley isn’t like Foster, though.
Where Foster is all light, happiness, smiles, and popularity; Kingsley radiates darkness, is a loner, and as far as I know, has only one close friend. And while I feel awful for even thinking it, sometimes Kingsley scares me. I’m not the only one who feels that way. Still, since we were sort of friends when we were younger, I feel bad for feeling the way I do. I have a good reason to, though.
“I’m okay,” I tell Foster, hoping to erase some of his worry.
“You sure?” He gives a sidelong glance in Grey’s direction then leans toward me and lowers his voice. “Because I can kick some ass if I need to.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “As fun as that sounds to watch, I’d like to keep the fights to a minimum, at least for tonight.”
He grins wickedly. “Just for tonight?”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, remember we have that bar fight scheduled for tomorrow?”
“Aw … shit, must have slipped my mind. But I’ll totally pencil it in, right between packing my stuff and taking you out for ice cream.”
My smile falters at the reminder that he’ll be leaving for college soon because, unlike me, he decided to start school during summer semester. And since my best friend Alena is going to be spending the summer in Paris, I’m going to pretty much be spending the summer alone.
“Hey.” His smile fades as he reaches up with his free hand and cups my cheek. “I promise I’m going to come back and visit.”
“I know, but”—I sigh—“it’s like six hours away from here. You’re not going to want to make that drive a lot.”
He grazes his finger along my cheekbone. “For you, I will.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so cheesy sometimes.”
“Which is why you love me so much.”
God, if only he knew.
Grey clears his throat, startling Foster and me.
“Um, I’m going to get a drink.” Grey looks at me. “You sure you don’t want me to refill yours?”
“Yep, I already told you I was good.”
He frowns, but as his gaze settles on Foster, his lips tug into a smirk. “Hey, man, heard you were taking off to college soon.”
Foster drops his hand from my cheek, his lips dipping into a frown. He’s never been a fan of Grey. “Yeah, I want to get an early start on things. I’m actually trying to finish my degree in three years instead of four.”
Grey’s lips twist into a malicious grin. “Huh. That’s not the reason I heard you were leaving early.”
Foster threads his fingers through mine. “Well, you heard wrong.”
Grey’s smirk magnifies. “You sure? Because I swear I heard a rumor that you might’ve told someone you’re looking to make a quick escape from Sunnyvale.”
I glance at Foster in confusion. “What’s he talking about?”
Foster stares Grey down, the afterglow of the fire reflecting in his eyes. “He’s just talking out of his ass like he always does.”
Grey glares at him. “I’m the one who’s talking out of my ass? Go fuck yourself. Seriously, you’re just as big of a liar as I am.” His gaze flicks to me. “You may think I’m a bad guy, and maybe in some ways I am, but so is Foster.” At that, he stalks off toward the keg.
“What the hell was that about?” I mutter.
“Who the hell knows?” Shaking his head, Foster focuses on me. “You need to stay away from him, okay? His obsession with you makes me nervous.”
This isn’t the first time he’s said this to me, but the last time it was about someone else. He was right then, though, and probably is now.
“I do try to stay away from him,” I insist. “He’s the one who won’t leave me alone.”
“I know, but I …” He withdraws his arm from around me and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”
He’s acting weird and twitchy, so unlike Foster.
“What’s going on?” I question. “Wait. Did you get high?”
He frowns. “What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re freaking out, and you usually only do that when you get stoned.”
“I don’t every time … Sometimes, I get relaxed.” His gaze travels over my shoulder as he dazes off.
Okay, he has to be stoned. And while I don’t mind him occasionally partying it up, Foster sometimes has a bad reaction to getting blazed. Instead of getting super calm, he has mad freak-outs. I’ve spent a handful of nights talking him down, and I’d rather not do it tonight when it’s one of the last nights we get to hang out together before he leaves.
“Come on; let’s get you home before you go into complete meltdown mode.”
“What?” He blinks a few times, coming out of his daze. Then his lips sink downward. “I already told you I’m not high.”
“Then, what’s your deal tonight? Because you seem twitchy and ditzy.”
“Ditzy?” He grins, pressing his hand to his heart. “I’m not, nor have I ever been, ditzy.”
“If you say so,” I quip with an eye roll.
He shakes his head, the corners of his lips quirking. “You’re asking for it tonight, aren’t you?”
I promptly step back, pointing a finger at him. “No way. Don’t you even dare.”
He cracks his knuckles. “Aw … now, come on. Deep down, I know you like it when I do it.”
“No, I don’t. And if you do it, I’ll get you back,” I warn. “Ten times worse.”
“I think I’ll take the risk.” He lunges at me.
I whirl around to run but only get one step forward before his lean arm envelopes around me. Then, with one swift motion, he scoops me up, flings me over his shoulder, finds the spot right above my knee, my ticklish spot, and digs his fingers in.
“Foster! Don’t you even—”
I squeal as he lightly pinches the area.
“Stop!” I cry through my laughter. “Please!”
“Only if you say the magic words,” he says as he continues to tickle me.
“Never!” I shout, drawing all sorts of attention.
Smashing my lips together to hold back my laughter, I reach around and pinch his ass.
“Shit.” He lets out a string of curses, his muscles winding tightly.
I let out my best evil villain laugh, trying not to take his aversion to me pinching his ass too personally. “You play dirty, I play dirty. I thought you knew that, bestie?”
“I do.” He gently lowers me back to the ground then stares at me with his brows knit.
I grin like the Cheshire cat. “I think the words you’re looking for are Harlynn, you win.”
“I guess you did.” He brushes his fingers along my cheekbone again, and it startles me a little bit.
I mean, sure, he’s touched me like this before, but not while staring at me as if he never wants to look away.
What in the hell is going on?
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods. “I was just thinking about how sucky it’s going to be not having you around all the time.”
“Aw, is that your way of saying you’re going to miss me?” I play off what he said jokingly, but inside, I’m a bundle of emotions.
I’m going to miss you, too.
“I guess it is.” He smiles. “How about we get out of here? We can grab some ice cream or something then go hang out at our spot until the sun comes up.”
“That sounds perfect.” I force a smile, but my heart squeezes inside my chest.
We’ve been going up to our spot by the lake for a couple of years now, ever since he got his driver’s license. When we do, it’s usually after we sneak out of the house or leave a party. We park and talk until the stars go to sleep. Those nights are perfect, and this might be the very last time we get to do it. In fact, I can feel it in my bones, like a warning. An omen.
“Are you okay?” Foster asks worriedly. “You look upset.”
“I’m just really going to miss you,” I whisper, and then I throw my arms around him.
He hugs me back. “I’m going to miss you, too. More than anyone else in my life.”
“That’s because I’m awesome,” I aim for a joke to avoid bursting into tears.
“You’re more than that.” The warmth emitting from his eyes makes my lungs tighten. “I love you, Har.”
I know he doesn’t mean it like how I love him. At least, I don’t think he does. But then he starts to lean in … to kiss me?
Wait. Is he really about to kiss me?
My heart slams against my chest. “I—”
A girl strolls up to us and taps Foster on the shoulder. Our gazes dart to her and we both tense.
No, this isn’t just some girl. It’s Evalynn.
Shit.
Evalynn is a girl we went to high school with who became infatuated with Foster. She’d follow him around all the ti
me and constantly asked him out. Foster, being the nice guy that he is, always very politely turned her down. One day, though, Evalynn lost it and screamed at Foster in the hallway after he declined one of her date offers. Then she went outside, slashed his car tires, broke all the windows, and wrote Liar on the hood of his truck in her blood, which is not only a bit crazy but also made no sense since Foster hardly ever tells lies.
But, anyway, the ordeal with Evalynn happened about six months ago, and we haven’t seen or heard from her since. According to rumors around town, she was admitted into a hospital for a while but was released a couple of months ago.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” Evalynn smiles sweetly at Foster. “I’m so glad you came. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Foster squirms, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Too long.” She giggles, placing her hand on his chest. “I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere and talk for a bit. Maybe get a bite to eat.”
“Um …” Foster glances at me, his eyes filled with a silent plea.
“Actually, he was about to drive me home so I don’t miss curfew,” I chime in, and he offers me a grateful smile.
Evalynn cuts her gaze to me. “Can’t you drive yourself home?”
“Can’t. He’s my ride.” I shrug. “Sorry.”
Her lips spasm, and her eyes darken. “Whatever.” A smile takes over her face as she looks back at Foster. “Call me so we can hang out, okay? It can be just like old times.” She blows him a kiss, spins around, and skips off toward the fire pit.
People glance in her direction then at Foster and me, question marks filling their eyes.
I shake my head. “That girl is living in Delusional Land, isn’t she?”
Foster pinches the brim of his nose. “I wish someone would’ve warned me she was back in town.”
“Maybe no one knew,” I offer. “People do look really shocked to see her.”
His gaze sweeps the crowd and his frown deepens. “How about we get out of here?”
“Sounds like an awesome idea.” I lace my fingers through his and tug him toward the truck, but then pause. “Wait. Are you sober?”
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 2
