by Lexi Bissen
Cover Design by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs
Photography by Shauna Kruse at Kruse Images & Photography
Cover Model: Joshua McCann
Edited by Monica Black at Word Nerd Editing
Interior Design and Formatting by Brenda Wright
A Fresh Start Copyright © 2016 by Lexi Bissen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distrusted, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical reviews and certain other noncommercial permitted by copyright law.
This novel is fiction. That means all of its content inducing: characters, names, places, and brands are products of the authors imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any similarities to actual people, living or dead, places or events are purely accidental.
This book is for anyone who has ever made a mistake in their life and needs that second chance. We all deserve one, all you have to do is want that change bad enough…
Hope you enjoy
Day one of my senior year of high school. Only 179 days to go. That’s not so bad, right? Only one more school year until I’m out of this small town and on to bigger, better things. Like a degree from the University of Northern Florida.
Freedom, Alabama is not a place you want to get stuck in for the rest of your life. With a population of less than 5,000, there aren’t many job opportunities. My daddy is the high school football coach—yes, the high school coach, because there is only one—and the science teacher for the upper classman. Mama has always stayed at home with us kids and volunteers for any and every event held within the town. She is the leader of all the fundraisers throughout the year and outdoes herself every time.
My high school consist of 450 students, 93 of them in my graduating class. Most of the kids all grew up together—hell, even our great-grandparents have known each other for years. Everyone knows me as Ronnie Hamilton, daughter of Michael and Anne Hamilton, younger sister to Jerry Hamilton and twin sister to Sean Hamilton, my very overprotective brothers. And I know what you’re thinking—yes, we are all named after former football players. Our dad is a huge football fan, if you can’t tell. I mean, he named his only daughter after one for God’s sake.
With such a limited selection of people my own age, making friends has been hard, but boy am I lucky to have Allen. He moved here our freshman year and my life has never been the same since. He keeps me laughing constantly with his flirty pick-up lines toward the football players and constant need to “rename” himself, which really just means trying a new style.
I pull up to Allen’s house in my red, beat up Ford F-150. He’s walking down the driveway with a super tight polo shirt on. The poor guy was still trying to find his identity after all these years. His mama accepted him being gay, but living in Bama, not many other people do. He never felt like he fit in with the southern style of plaid button-downs or a t-shirt, jeans, and some boots. He’s a large guy, standing at six-two. I always love seeing the different styles he goes through. My personal favorite was last year and his Goth stage. He scared the shit out of a lot of people during that time with the crazy hair and makeup.
I smile at him as he gets into my truck. “Darlin’, what in the hell are you wearing?” I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s starting to slip.
He looks down at his fitted jeans and black polo shirt. “What? This is the last look I’m willing to try. I think I can pull of the preppy style well, don’t ya think?”
When he slicks his brown hair back and winks at me, the laugh escapes. Shaking my head, I shift the truck into first gear. “Yep, you’re doing a great job.”
“Don’t look at me like that, missy. Just because you have no style, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t,” he huffs.
I turn my head to give him a questioning look. “What do you mean I have no style? I think I look good.” I look down to check myself out. I have on a black tank top with one of Sean’s red plaid shirts over it, jean shorts, and black Converse. The shorts are a little too short, but that’s because I haven’t been able to afford a new pair with my Chili’s paychecks and these are two years old.
Allen looks at my outfit, then rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. I can’t complain about your outfit. You’re the only girl I know who can make those basic clothes looks hot. All the guys are going t—oh, shit!” he snorts, and I look over to see him trying breathe through his laughter.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask him.
He wipes the tears from his eyes—actual tears. “I’m picturing Sean’s face when he sees you dressed like that today. He’s going to flip a lid. Not to mention, Rodger’s reaction to all the guys who will be looking at you. You somehow got hotter over the summer and those two are not going to like that.”
I think for a second. Sean wouldn’t go too crazy over it…I think, and Rodger couldn’t care less. Plus, what is he talking about me getting hotter over the summer? “Sean will get over what I’m wearing and why would Rodger care? That was last summer and we were only together a couple times.” It was really twice, and I don’t even count the first time since all I remember is pain.
Last year, I decided I wanted to get it over with—losing my virginity, that is—and I picked someone I trusted. Rodger. One of my brother’s best friends and the punter for my dad’s football team. We were only together those two times before he started wanting more and I freaked out. I didn’t want a relationship with someone, least of all Rodger. He’s attractive and a nice guy, but I tend to stay away from jocks. Growing up with them my whole life, I want a little bit of distance. I made sure to tell Rodger sleeping with him didn’t mean anything serious to me. I wanted to get it over and done with. He was hesitant at first, but ended up being the guy who took my V-card. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to get angry when I ended it.
Allen laughs at me. “Honey, Rodger is still obsessed with you. The guy watched your every move and made sure no one got any ideas when it came to you.”
That’s a surprise. “He’s made sure? What does that mean?”
“That means, he told the guys to stay away from you. Sean thought Rodger was doing him a favor since some of the guys were talking about asking you out, but Rodger was doing it in hopes you’d give him another chance,” Allen replies.
I look over and see him checking his phone. “I’m sure you’re imagining things. Besides, he knows I don’t want anything. I told him that last year.”
Allen rolls his eyes. “Believe me or not. Look at the way the guy watches you. It’s borderline stalker, if you ask me.”
We both laugh at his stupidity. “Shut up,” I say, then turn up the radio, blasting Blake Shelton’s Neon Lights.
After a few minutes, we pull into the parking lot of our school. I put the truck in park and start to collect my backpack. “Holy shit!” Allen yells out, causing me to jump. When I look over, he’s still focused on his phone.
“What? What is it?” I ask.
He looks up at me with wide eyes. “Did you know we have a new student this year?”
“Um, no. I hadn’t heard anything. Why is that so shocking? I mean, we don’t get new students all the time, but—”
“Ronnie, it’s a celebrity!” Allen practically screams at me, not to mention interrupted me. Rude.
“Why would a celebrity come here? We don’t have much in Freedom.” Our small town has nothing. I mean, we have beaches and football, but that’s it.
“No clue, but I wonder who it is,” Allen says while getting out of my truck.
“Me, too.” I grab my bag and follow him into the building. Happy first day of school.<
br />
I was lucky enough to have five out of my eight classes with Allen, including lunch. Our first period together is English, which we also have with Sean and Rodger. I watch as they both sit at the same table with us. Rodger sits across from me and Sean across from Allen, leaving the last two seats open.
Sean tries to slouch his six-foot frame into the poor excuse of a chair, then looks over at me. “How’s your first day going, little sis?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a minute and a half older than me. You can stop with the ‘little sis’.”
“You’ll always be my little sis, Ron. I mean, look how tiny you are,” Sean replies.
I huff at his comment. “I’m not tiny. Five-two is a reasonable height.”
Rodger looks over to me. “Yeah, she’s not at all tiny.” He gazes down at my chest for a bit too long, earning a punch in the arm from Sean.
“What the fuck, man! That’s my little sister. Don’t look at her.” He pauses and looks at me, then my outfit. “And what the hell are you wearing? You shouldn’t be leaving the damn house like that.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “Like what, exactly?”
“Your shirt is too low, Ronnie. Your tits are practically falling out of it,” Sean replies.
One of the junior baseball players walks by, saying, “Hey, Ronnie,” while checking me out. Okay, maybe he has a point. I look down to make sure my top is set correctly so nothing is showing.
Rodger glares at the guy before looking back at me. “Yeah, you should fucking change,” he growls out.
Now that Allen pointed it out to me, I do see how Rodger changed after we slept together last year. Before, when he was only my brother’s friend, he would joke about my looks like all the other guys. He never acted like this.
Before I can say anything to either of them, Allen steps in. “Okay, you two, tone down the testosterone a bit. She’s eighteen, I really don’t think she need anyone’s approval on how she dresses.”
“Thank you, Allen,” I say, smiling at him.
Before either Rodger or Sean can say anything in return, Mr. Henry enters through the door and walks up to the front of the classroom.
He clears his throat, then proceeds to say, “Okay, class. Most of you know me or have had me in the past, so I won’t be going into the whole boring introduction of myself since half of you won’t listen anyway. I do have a couple things I want to go over with you and then you can all hang out until the bell rings.” This is why Mr. Henry is one of my favorite teachers. I had him the last two years and while he does teach really well, he is pretty laid back.
The next ten minutes are filled with Mr. Henry going through the syllabus and what we’ll be reading this semester, including an essay that is a large percentage of our grade. Once he’s wrapping up, the principle walks in. That’s never a good sign. They both step outside the room to talk, leaving the class unsupervised.
Looking at Allen, I say, “I wonder what that was about.”
“Maybe we have the new student in our class,” he replies, hopeful.
Sean and Rodger look to both of us. “What new student?” Sean asks.
“Y’all didn’t see Megan’s post on Facebook?” Allen asks. Of course, Miss Nosey posted about it.
Both boys shake their heads.
Allen smiles at them and perks up. “Well, gentlemen, we do indeed have a new student starting today. And not any new student, they’re a celebrity.”
The mention of a celebrity gets the dumb jocks to straighten in their seats. “Really? Wonder who it is. Maybe that hot new actress in those horror movies,” Sean says.
Rodger smiles. “Or that redheaded singer with the amazing—” he stops mid-sentence and quickly glances at me, “voice.” Like I would care if he thought another chick had an “amazing” something.
Mr. Henry walks back into the room and faces the class. “All right, everyone,” he calls out, getting our attention. “Some of you might have heard that we have a new student this year. You may have also heard they’re somewhat of a celebrity. I want you all to treat them like any other student and not make a big fuss over who they are. We are all adults…or almost adults, let’s act like it.”
I roll my eyes when all the girls start fixing their hair and the guys sit up straighter to get a better look at the door behind me. I mean, come on, they’re a person for Christ’s sake. I look down at my Kindle and continue re-reading my favorite book by Jennifer Armentrout. Sean nudges Rodger in the arm at the sound of the door opening. When it closes, both boys slouch down in their seats, looking disappointed, while Sean sighs, “Damn.”
I don’t look up, but in all honestly, I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never met someone remotely famous before. I figure if I don’t look, they aren’t really here. That will work, right? I remain focused on a certain sexy alien saving his race when I hear Mr. Henry introduce the newbie.
“Everyone, this is Gibson Mitchell. Please be respectable and help him with getting to class or anything else.” All the girls let out a round of sighs as they fawn over him. Yet another reason I don’t have any female friends. I would never fall all over a guy.
Mr. Henry clears his throat in an effort to calm the raging hormones of his female students. “Okay, Gibson, you can have a seat at that table over there with Allen, Sean, Rodger, and Ronnie. They’re a good group.”
Oh God, Mr. Henry had to sit him by us, didn’t he? Why couldn’t New Guy sit with any of the other seven tables in this room? I don’t want to be part of the welcoming committee. I shift in my seat, still keeping my head down, avoiding our new student.
Loud footsteps come from behind me, stopping at the edge of the table to my left. Taking a deep breath, I look to see an intense pair of eyes staring right at me. They are a strange green with specks of blue throughout them; unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They captivate me and I find it hard to look away. When I’m able to tear my gaze from his, I follow the length of a straight nose and meet a pair of full lips with a silver metal ring through the center of the bottom one. Making my way back up, I notice he has full, dark eyebrows. His hair is the same color. It’s short on the ends, yet long enough to run your hands through at the top. Allen would call it “fuck me” hair.
My eyes keep moving on their own and travel over his torso and down his legs. He’s tall, probably around Allen’s height, with a lot of lean muscle. His t-shirt is fitted, the fabric stretching across his sculpted chest and colorful arms. His dark jeans covering a pair of boots look like they’ve been washed one too many times.
I make my way back up his body, and when our eyes meet, he smirks, like he knows something I don’t. A throat clears, breaking our staring contest. When I look over, both Sean and Rodger are giving Gibson the dirtiest looks.
Allen’s chair makes a loud screeching noise as he pushes it back and stands to greet Gibson. “Hello, there. I’m Allen. Don’t mind those two muscle heads over here. They’re jocks, so you’ll only be getting grunts and nods from them all year. Too many blows to the head caused them to lose their ability to act civilized toward people.” He shakes Gibson’s hand and then turns to the boys. “The dark-haired one is Rodger and Goldilocks is Sean.” My brother huffs at the nickname.
Gibson ignores both of them and stares at me. Allen gives me a sneaky smile and comes to stand at the back of my chair, putting his hands on my shoulders. “And this beauty right here is my bestie, Ronnie.”
I give Gibson a slight smile, and say, “Hi.”
He smirks again. “Hey.”
Allen whistles and then takes his seat next to me. Leaning over, he whispers, “I think someone is fixated on you.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re crazy. Why would you say that?” I ask.
Allen just looks over to where Gibson is still standing, studying me. Gibson shakes his head before taking the seat beside me.
I take a deep breath, and look up to Gibson’s face. “Nice to meet you, Gibson.” I hold my hand out for him to shake it. He looks at my han
d for a second and then takes it in his. His hand is large and warm. It just feels right being wrapped around mine, like they fit perfectly together.
While still holding my hand, he smiles up at me, and says, “You, too, Ronnie.” His voice is rough, but smooth at the same time. He sounds like he could be a singer. Maybe that’s what he’s famous for.
Sean clears his throat and Gibson lets go of my hand to look at my rude brother. “I’m Ronnie’s older brother,” he says, his tone threatening.
“Twin,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Gibson gives a deep, quick laugh at my comment.
“Still older,” Sean retorts, sounding like a five-year-old.
About a minute of awkward silence with Sean and Rodger both glaring at Gibson, I decide to break the silence.
Turning my body to face Gibson, I ask, “So, what brings you to our small town?”
Ronnie. When I got a glimpse of her walking into the school building this morning, I knew she would have a badass name to match her look. She’s different than most of the girls I’ve seen around this damn small town. She has the blonde hair and nice tan most Alabama girls have, but her look is different. While all these other girls around here have perfectly done hair and make-up, Ronnie seems more real, natural; not overly done like what I’m used to seeing. Her basic outfit is cute, yet fucking sexy at the same time. It shows off her features perfectly—features I couldn’t stop looking at this morning.
I was all ready to show Ronnie how charming I can be when she opened that sweet mouth of hers and asked the one question I didn’t want to answer.
My mistake four months ago is now the reason I’m living in the smallest damn town I’ve ever seen. It’s also something I don’t particularly want people to know about. My dad’s agent kept all of this out of the news and spun the story to magazines as my uncle looking out for me while my dad’s on tour and Mom is away at a spa.
I look over to Ronnie, and ask, “So, you haven’t read any of the news articles or heard the gossip about why I’m here?” Some of the gossip magazines posted stories about me getting a chick pregnant and going into hiding. Another had a front page story on my tragic meltdown and how I’m in a mental hospital. Completely ridiculous.
