by S. M. Soto
Chasing the Moon
Copyright © 2020 S.M. Soto
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover by Najla Qamber Designs
Photography by Regina Wamba
Editing by Paige Smith, Jenny Sims, and Rebecca Barney
Formatting by Stacey Blake
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
More Books by S.M. Soto
Playlist
Epigraph
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Ache: A Second Chance Romance Preview
Acknowledgements
Let’s keep in touch!
About the Author
A modern-day retelling of the Greek Myth of Selene and Endymion.
He was the sun, and she was the moon. A love like theirs was never destined to last.
Selene Drake has always been the girl that blends into the background.
The wallflower.
Quiet.
Unnoticed.
Sweet as can be.
It never bothered her, she preferred slinking into the shadows.
When she first laid eyes on Endymion Black, she fell irrevocably in love with him.
The bad boy.
Cold.
Distant.
Handsome as ever.
For years, she pined after the unattainable boy who had somehow burrowed his way into her heart.
Until everything changed.
One unforgettable night bridled with passion and forbidden lust destroyed her naïve heart and reshaped her innocent soul. It sent her fleeing from the only town she’d ever truly known.
Six years later, Selene is back in Dunsmuir and the boy she spent years loving in silence, has now turned into a man. A man with his sights set on her. Somehow, the tables have turned, and this time around, he’s the one doing the chasing, determined to claim her heart as his. Only, he doesn’t realize, she has a secret of her own.
One with the potential to change their lives forever.
Chasing the Moon is a full-length second chance standalone with a guaranteed HEA. At the end, I’ve included an excerpt from Ache, an emotional second chance romance.
Chasing the Moon concludes at around 90% on your device.
Happy Reading!
XO, S.M. Soto
THE CHAOS SERIES
Deception and Chaos
Blood and Chaos
Love and Chaos
THE SAN DIEGAN SERIES
Scoring the Quarterback
Damaged Heart
THE TWIN LIES DUET
Kiss Me with Lies
Bury Me with Lies
STANDALONE TITLES
Hate Thy Neighbor: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
Ache
A Cruel Love
COMING SOON
The Seasons of Callan Reed
Jake Wilder
The Consequence of Hating You
Redemption and Chaos
Corruption and Chaos
Muerte and Chaos
Spotify
Lucid—QUIN ft. Infinity
All Of The Stars—Ed Sheeran
Magic Hour—Jhene Aiko
Love In The Dark—Jessie Reyes
The Real Her—Drake ft. Andre 300, Lil Wayne
Wrong Direction—Hailee Steinfeld
Moon River—Frank Ocean
Us—James Bay
Ocean—Martin Garrix ft. Khalid
Rewrite the Stars—James Arthur & Anne-Marie
Playing With Fire—Thomas Rhett ft. Jordan Sparks
Somebody—The Chainsmokers, Drew Love
Try Me—The Weeknd
You Are The Reason—Calum Scott
Landslide—The Chicks
Before You Go—Lewis Capaldi
Dancing With Your Ghost—Sasha Sloan
Paradise—Anderson Rocio
Selenophile: (n) a lover of the moon; someone who finds joy and peace of mind from the moon.
For the moon lovers.
The old souls.
And every Daddy’s girl.
“In ancient times, it was said that the goddess Selene drove the moon across the sky. Each night, she followed Helios, the sun, to catch his fiery rays and reflect the light back to earth. One night on her journey, she looked down and saw Endymion sleeping in the hills. She fell in love with the beautiful shepherd. Night after night, she looked down on his gentle beauty and loved him more until one evening, she left the moon between the sun and the earth and went down to the grassy fields to lie beside him.
For three nights, she stayed with him, and the moon, unable to catch the sun’s rays, remained dark. People feared the dark moon. They said it brought death and freed evil forces to roam the black night. Zeus, king of the gods, was angered by the darkness and punished Selene by giving Endymion eternal sleep. Selene returned to the moon and drove it across the night sky, but her love was too strong. She hid Endymion in a cave, and now, for three nights each lunar month, she leaves the moon to visit her sleeping lover and cover him with silver kisses. In his sleep, Endymion dreams he holds the moon.”
July 2007
I fell in love when I was just eleven years old. All it took was one glance, three unsteady breaths, and five measly seconds to turn me to putty. There was a foreign swarm of butterflies so powerful it made me nauseous. My heartbeats were irregular, and since then, nothing in my life has been the same.
The first time I laid eyes on Endymion Black, I fell irrevocably in love with him. He was an enigma in our town—the stranger everyone wanted a piece of. On his fifteenth birthday, he moved to Dunsmuir, a small town in California, and he turned the quiet, familiar place upside down.
I remember that first day like it was yesterday. The moment has ingrained itself in the deepest depths of my mind, playing on a constant loop. Even now, just thinking about it lights a fire in my soul.
My dad and I were at the grocery store picking out a dessert for my birthday. Each year, my dad would drive me to the l
ocal Grab-N-Go, and I’d head to the bakery section to find the best-looking cake. And each year, it was always the same. A triple chocolate cake with my name written in pink icing. That was another thing I’d later realize would connect me to Endymion. Among a handful of other things, we shared the same birthday—July twenty-second.
As always, Mom and Dad were fighting, so when he took me to the grocery store, it was really just an excuse to get away from my mother. I don’t remember a time in my life when my parents weren’t at each other’s throats. They pretty much hated each other’s guts. They were always shouting, always arguing about bills and money, and to make matters worse, they didn’t even sleep in the same room at night. Surprisingly, they never laid a hand on each other, but sometimes, when I went to bed, I wondered what would happen if I wasn’t there. Would they even be together anymore?
Did I even want them to be together anymore?
I think there’s a point in every child’s life when they want their parents to stay together forever, even if the discussion of separation or divorce is on the table. I was past that point. I just wanted the fighting to stop and wanted them to be happy, even if that meant separately. I wanted a normal childhood instead of this farce of one I’d been given. Just one peaceful night when I didn’t have to listen to my iPod on full blast to block out their arguing. I didn’t want to take sides. I didn’t want any part of it.
Dad split up with me at the grocery store, opting to get a pack of beer and letting me head toward the bakery. The glass display cases were in sight when I spotted him. With broad shoulders and muscles in his back that my dad didn’t even have anymore, I paused in the middle of the aisle and stared at the stranger in an odd state of shock. It rolled through my body in waves, paralyzing me. I was positive he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen, just from what I saw looking at the back of him.
He had light brown hair, long and messy at the top. It was styled in the I-just-showered-and-I’m-too-cool-for-school look. He was dressed casually in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. With a mind of their own, my feet inched closer and closer until I was standing in front of the packaged danishes. Using the shelf and packaged goods display as a hiding spot, I peered around, stealing glances at him. He was browsing the cakes inside the glass.
Just like I was supposed to be doing.
Even Mrs. Cahill, as she pushed through the doors from the back kitchen, stopped short at the handsome teen before her. I didn’t know what his face looked like yet, but that tug deep in my gut, coiling and tingling, told me he was handsome. And when he spoke for the first time? My heart’s normal pitter-patter turned irregular. I don’t think it’s ever beaten the same again—not since that day. He had a voice you could feel roll through your body in an exhilarating, otherworldly sensation. My eleven-year-old brain short-circuited, and all my attention was focused on the guy standing right in front of me. I willed him to turn and feel my presence. Anything to get a look at his face without feeling like a creeper.
I grasped onto the crescent moon around my neck for courage. When I was nervous or needed an extra push, the necklace always gave me that extra something. It was a gift from my parents almost two years ago. For as long as I could remember, I’d been obsessed with the moon, and my parents? Well, it was no secret they indulged me in my obsession. The necklace was silver and dainty, a crescent moon hanging from a 3D moon with real meteorite dust inside. Strangely, since the first time I put the necklace on, it’d given me strength when I normally had none. A talisman of sorts.
I’d always been the painstakingly shy and quiet wallflower who blended into the shadows, unseen and thoroughly unnoticed. I had a hard time speaking up for myself and an even tougher time separating my need to be liked by everyone.
“Selene, sweetie, what are you doing over there?” Mrs. Cahill asked loudly, finally taking notice of me. Her attention caused him to turn, and a ragged gasp ripped from my chest when I got a full look at him. He was quite literally the most beautiful guy I’d ever seen. I didn’t think any boys my age were cute. There were a few celebrities I had crushes on, but no one, and I mean no one, compared to him.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in the back of my throat. He had defined cheekbones and a strong jaw that clenched as he took me in. He seemed angry or irritated to be standing there in the bakery section. As if this was the last place he wanted to be. But what catapulted him beyond any good-looking guy I’d ever seen before were his light green eyes flecked with white, or maybe gray. Bright, like the color of summertime moss. I had never seen such a color in someone’s eyes before. They were a kaleidoscope of greens.
I could feel the heat of his gaze on my skin, and when his eyes clashed with mine, I forced a swallow that felt so overworked, I feared I might’ve swallowed my own tongue. There was a hardness in the depths of his eyes that softened when he saw me standing there. Shaking my head slightly, I hoped it would clear my thoughts as though I was seeing things. It wasn’t possible that this guy was this handsome. Surely, he’d be famous if that was the case. He’d have his own spread in Seventeen or J-14. I blinked rapidly when his plump lips twisted into a soft smile as he regarded me.
“Hey, kid.”
Two words were all he spoke, but they crushed me, nonetheless. The dart of his words was poisonous, burning as it spread. I didn’t want to be a kid. I didn’t want him to see me as a child. I wanted him to think I was as beautiful as I thought he was. Because that was exactly what I thought of this boy standing before me. He was damn beautiful.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and risked a couple of steps toward him and Janet at the glass display. She was staring at me oddly, eyeing me with narrowed and scrutinizing eyes. This was the first of many here in Dunsmuir who would start catching onto my crush.
Not wanting to look like a weirdo anymore, I inhaled a deep, stabilizing breath and closed the distance, coaching myself on how to act naturally as I stood beside this handsome guy, trying not to fidget.
“Where’s your dad, Selene? Are you guys out shopping for your birthday treat?” She smiled, already knowing our routine.
Janet had been the baker here since this place opened. Each year, she rang us up and made sure the cake I chose always had my name and a moon drawn with pink frosting. I was, without a shadow of a doubt, the moonchild here in Dunsmuir.
I glanced at the guy out of the corner of my eye and ducked my head when I felt my cheeks heat. “Uh, yeah. He’s getting beer and after dinner snacks, I think.”
“Well, what are you having? The usual? And what can I get you, hon? Are we still doing the birthday cake, too?” She directed the last portion of her question at him. A smile lit up her face as she pointed back and forth between us. “Happy Birthday to you both.”
I felt his gaze lingering at the side of my head, so I turned to look at him. He stared down at me with an odd expression on his face, before turning back around. “Yeah, let’s do the cake, and”—he paused, glancing down at me—“Happy Birthday, kid.”
“Happy Birthday…” I trailed off, waiting for him to tell me his name. As he dug into his back pocket, pulling out some cash from his weathered leather wallet to pay, he finally gave me what I wanted.
“You can call me End.”
Without another word or even a glance back, he left, taking all the air from my lungs with him.
That was when I first knew Endymion and I would never work. He was otherworldly, and I was…me. Too plain, too young, too quirky to ever capture his attention. That didn’t mean I’d ever stop trying.
Over the course of the years, while Endymion and his family got settled here in Dunsmuir from Lake Tahoe, my crush on him only grew, to the point I was sure everyone in town knew about it except him. He always called me kid, and he never looked at me twice. It was like I was insignificant.
I wasn’t smart enough.
Interesting enough.
Pretty enough.
Or maybe I was just too young, and therefore, off hi
s radar.
For the first few weeks they were settling in, I did everything I could to run into him again. It wasn’t easy. I was still in middle school, and he was heading to high school. We didn’t exactly hang out in the same crowds. Fortunately, I did see him every once in a blue moon at the grocery store and at the mall, but each time, he never looked twice.
Not that I expected anything different. I wasn’t the kind of girl you looked twice at. I was the girl who would go most of her life unnoticed, and I had come to terms with it.
I took to writing his name in my journals and wondering if one day he’d notice me. Little did I know, the competition would make that feat nearly impossible. In a small town like ours, when a hot guy moved in, the girls, and even the women, flocked toward him. They tried to covet and steal what I laid eyes on first.
Endymion got the most male attention I’d ever seen in my entire life. It was probably his looks, his unique name, and the mystery surrounding him. Whatever it was, I wasn’t the only one in town fighting for his attention. And the likelihood was, I never would be. Endymion and I would never work out. We were destined for failure, that was all I was sure of.
August 2008—Past
On my way home from school, I heave a deep sigh when I glance around at the groups of kids. Everyone who walks home has their own cliques. Everyone but me. It’s usually just me and my best friend, Julia. We walk to and from school every day, except when it rains or snows. That’s where our parents draw the line. But today, Julia missed school because she’s “sick,” leaving me to my lonesome. I don’t have very many friends besides Julia, and the ones I do have are more acquaintances than anything else. Which is precisely why I’m walking home all alone.
I let out a surprised squeak and clutch the thick book to my chest when a few of the high schoolers run past me, hooting and hollering. One of them clips me in the arm, nearly making me drop my pride and joy. A few years ago, my dad bought me this thick book filled with legends from Greek mythology. Those faraway tales speak to me on a different level than regular fiction, which is why I don’t enjoy reading anything else.
