a novel by
Copyright © 2020 by Melissa Toppen
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.
Editing by Amy Gamache @ Rose David Editing
Cover Design by Cassy Roop @ Pink Ink Designs
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Please tell me you finished your portion of the assignment last night.” Tanya slides up next to me as I make my way toward my locker, my book bag clenched to my chest. The zipper broke on my way into the building and the damn thing is packed so full I have to hold it shut to keep everything from tumbling out.
“Yes, I finished it. Just like I said I would.” I groan audibly. It’s not even seven-thirty and she’s already tracking me down to harass me. This day is not off to a very promising start.
“Well, I need to see it before class. I want to make sure we came to the same conclusion.”
“I thought that was the whole point. To look at it as a group and then formulate our own opinion. It shouldn’t matter if we came to different conclusions.”
This is what I hate most about group assignments. Especially group assignments when I get partnered with overachievers like Tanya Mackey who think they know better than everyone else.
“Well, I’d still like to see it. This isn’t just your grade, you know.” She huffs next to me, doing her best to keep up with my quick strides.
“Listen.” I turn abruptly when I reach my locker. “I promise you it’s complete and will not reflect poorly on the group. Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to drop my stuff off and get to class. I can’t be late for first period again or I’ll be spending the remainder of the semester in detention.” An over exaggeration I’m sure, but still, Ms. Jennings has threatened detention and I have no doubt that she’ll follow through.
“But,” she objects but I cut her off.
“I’m not discussing this further, Tanya.” I turn away from her to work the combination on my locker.
She remains next to me for several long moments. I can practically feel the heat from her glare burning the side of my face. Eventually, she realizes that I’m not giving her my essay, because after releasing a dramatic huff, she spins around and heads in the opposite direction. Thank goodness.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be quite so curt with someone. It’s not in my nature to be outspoken or stand my ground. I hate to think of myself as a pushover, but in most cases that’s what I end up being. Unfortunately for Tanya, she caught me in a rare mood.
I’ve just finished gathering everything I need from my locker for my first three periods when the second warning bell rings. Knowing I’m going to have to book it if I want any hope of reaching class on time, I slam the door closed, slide the lock back into place, and take off down the hallway. My feet move as fast as they can to still be considered walking. The last thing I need is to get in trouble for running.
I tighten my books to my chest and break out into a jog once I don’t see any teachers around. Based on when the last bell rang, I assume I have approximately thirty more seconds before I garner my fifth tardy in less than a month.
It’s really not my fault. One day my car wouldn’t start. Another it had a flat tire. The third and fourth times were entirely my brother’s fault because he wouldn’t get out of the bathroom. And then there’s this morning. Let’s just say it’s been the perfect example of Murphy’s Law.
I round the last corner, in the home stretch, when I collide with someone that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. My books fall to the floor with a loud thump and various pieces of paper slide along the checkered tile.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I say in quick succession, dipping down to collect my things right as the final bell rings.
“I’m so sorry,” the guy I ran into says right as he kneels down next to me.
I’m so preoccupied with picking everything up that I don’t actually look at him. All I can think is that with how this day has gone so far, I should turn around and head for the front door. If there was ever a day to crawl back into bed and say screw it, today is that day.
“Here.” I straighten into a stand as he extends a few papers of mine out to me.
My fingers wrap around the messy stack right as my eyes meet his.
My jaw instantly goes slack.
He’s gorgeous...
Dark hair, even darker eyes. Perfectly symmetrical features that almost make him look like he’s been plucked from some modeling catalog and dropped into the middle of my school. He’s flawless. All except for a small bump on the bridge of his nose which only gives him even more character. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s broken his nose at least once and I immediately begin to imagine all the ways that might have happened.
Fight. Car accident. Sports injury...
The guy is definitely the athletic type so the latter is totally feasible. Broad shoulders, tall stature, defined bicep muscles. My god...
I lick the corner of my mouth, fearful that I might be drooling.
I have no idea who he is. But I can say with complete certainty that I’ve never seen him before. I would have remembered. He’s not the kind of guy anyone would easily forget.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’m holding onto the papers he extended to me but have not taken them from him. It feels like an eternity has passed since our eyes first met but I’m guessing it hasn’t been more than a few seconds. Trying to shake off the fog that seems to have settled around me in his presence, I take the small stack and stuff it into the front of one of my books.
“I’m sorry about that.” He adjusts the strap of his book bag on his shoulder. “I was trying to figure out where I’m supposed to be and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He holds up a single paper in his other hand.
“That’s okay,” I stutter out, feeling my cheeks heat slightly. “I take it you’re new here?” I gesture to the schedule he’s holding.
He nods, rocking back on his heels. “Today’s my first day. Hence the not knowing where I’m going part.”
I let out a nervous laugh, internally kicking myself for how stupid I probably look.
“Here.” I reach for the paper. “Let me help you.”
&nb
sp; He allows me to take the schedule. I feel his eyes on me as I look it over, and even though the thought of his attention makes me more self-conscious than it should, I also really like it.
I have to physically restrain myself from smiling when I see we have two classes together and share the same lunch period.
So he’s a Junior, like me.
“Most of your classes are all clumped together. Other than Spanish and AP Lit, which are in the west wing,” I nod to the right, “all your other classes are in the East Wing.” I hand his schedule back to him. “Go that way.” I point to the left. “When you reach the end of the hallway, turn right. You should be able to find everything from there. The west wing is the same, except on the opposite side of the building. The classrooms are all numbered and labeled with the teachers’ names so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
“Thank you so much.” He takes the schedule back, rewarding me with a smile that steals my ability to breathe for a long moment.
Of course he has dimples... As if he couldn’t be more perfect, why not add dimples into the mix. And not just any dimples either. Deep, defined ones that take over his entire face.
Sigh...
“Well, good luck,” I say after several beats of silence have bounced between us. As much as I would love to stand here and stare at him all day, I do have a class to get to. One that I’m getting later for by the second.
I step around him, clinging to the scattered mess of books and papers in my arms.
“Hey,” he calls out after I’ve moved a few paces from him.
I stop, looking back at him over my shoulder.
“I didn’t catch your name.” He smiles again and damn if my knees don’t wobble a little at the sight.
“Hope,” I manage to choke out. “Hope Russell.”
“Alec Murray.” He gestures to himself. Another smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Hope.”
“Yeah. It was nice meeting you, too.” I nod, ducking my face as I turn and continue to my class.
Chapter Two
“I can’t believe Ms. Jennings gave you a week’s worth of detention. What an ass sack.” Lucy picks up a carrot stick off her tray and drags it through ranch dressing before popping it into her mouth.
Lucy, or Lulu as I call her, has been my best friend since she moved here before sixth grade and I was assigned to be her guide for her first week. We bonded over our mutual love of all things scary and our shared obsession of the band Lincoln Heights, a small indie/alternative group that originated a couple of towns over.
“Honestly I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. I can handle five days of staying after school to help organize the media room.”
“You say that now. Have you been in that storage room?” She crinkles her nose. “There’s so much dust in there you’ll be lucky if you can breathe once you start moving things around.”
“How do you know? Why were you in the media storage room?” I quirk a brow at her. When she flashes me a smile I know all too well, I laugh. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. Lulu always has boys falling at her feet, and rightfully so, but with parents as strict as hers, she has to find creative ways to be a normal seventeen-year-old girl. Hence, the media storage room.
“So who was it this time? Chad? Michael? Oh, don’t tell me, the guy you’ve been fawning over from the football team. What’s his name again? Bryan?”
“Ryan,” she corrects me, pushing her golden locks over her shoulders as she straightens her posture. “And...maybe.” She kneads her bottom lip between her perfectly straight, white teeth.
Lulu is a knockout. When I say she can have any guy she wants, that’s not an exaggeration. With big boobs, legs for days, the perfect sun kissed blonde hair, and eyes so blue they practically sparkle, you’d be hard pressed to find a guy that wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to date her.
Problem is, Lulu doesn’t really date. She prefers to just have fun. I think it stems from her home life. A form of rebellion.
I think it’s safe to say we’re on the exact opposite of the spectrum where this is concerned. Where Lulu is fun and adventurous, I usually play it safe. She’s loud and outgoing. I prefer to blend into the background. She’s all about living in the now. My focus is always ten steps ahead. And yet somehow we manage to balance each other out perfectly.
It’s not only our personalities that are vastly different. Our styles are as well. Lulu is all about sporting the latest fashions, wearing the trendiest makeup, and having her hair professionally done at the salon every couple of months. Me, I’m more of a skinny jeans and flip flops – even in the winter – kind of girl. Nine times out of ten, my dark hair is tied up in a messy bun and the most make-up you’ll ever catch me wearing is lip gloss and a light coating of mascara.
We’re both uniquely us, and while I sometimes envy Lulu’s standout beauty, I’m happy with who I am...mostly.
I glance toward the door for what feels like the hundredth time since I sat down across from Lulu five minutes ago. I wish I could say that I’m not looking for Alec, but that would not be the case. While we share two classes together, both are after lunch. Which means I haven’t seen him since this morning.
“Who are you looking for?” Lulu calls me out, clearly sensing that something is up.
“What?” My gaze goes back to hers. “No one.” I shake my head.
“Uh huh.” She eyes me disbelieving. “I know you, Hope. Now spill.”
“Have you met the new guy? Alec, I think his name is.” I try to come across as uninterested.
“The sexy as sin stud with the panty dropping dimples?” She grins.
“Of course that’s how you would describe him.” I roll my eyes at her. “So you have met him.”
“No. I heard about him from Janice Ian,” she says, popping another carrot into her mouth. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I ran into him in the hallway this morning. Like literally ran right into him.” I smile at the memory. “He asked for help with his schedule. I noticed he has the same lunch period, so I figured if I saw him come in I’d invite him to sit with us.”
“You crack me up.” Lulu waves a carrot stick at me.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re always trying to take care of everyone. He’s a big boy, Hope. I’m sure he can find a place to sit.”
“I know that. I just thought it might be nice so he doesn’t have to sit alone.” I twist the cap off my water and take a small sip. “Besides, what’s wrong with trying to help people?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
“Nothing, you guess.” I hit her with a pointed look.
I’m just about to press her on the matter when something behind her catches my eye. I suck in a ragged breath at the sight of him, standing a few feet from the register with a tray in his hands. If possible, he looks even more handsome than he did this morning. I watch his eyes scour the cafeteria, no doubt looking for somewhere to sit, when his gaze locks with mine. Recognition flashes across his face.
I swear my stomach nearly doubles over on itself as I watch him start to make his way toward us.
Lulu, curious by my reaction, turns right as Alec steps up beside her. I don’t have time to gauge her reaction as my gaze swings back to him.
“Hi.” He smiles.
“Hi,” I return, already feeling the heat creep up my neck.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Please,” I blurt, gesturing to the three open seats between me and Lulu at the round table. He takes the one in the middle, sliding his tray down in front of him. I watch the cotton of his black tee stretch across his broad shoulders, and a flurry of butterflies erupts in my stomach.
I haven’t been able to tear my gaze away from him since he approached and I probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Lulu, not so subtly, clearing her throat to garner my attention. I flip my gaze to her and see her nod h
er head in his direction. I know her well enough to know what she wants.
“Alec, this is my best friend, Lucy.” I gesture across the table.
“Lulu.” She smiles, correcting my usage of her real name.
“Lulu, this is Alec,” I continue like she didn’t speak at all. “He just transferred from...” I trail off, realizing I have no idea where he’s from.
“Beckley High,” he answers, opening his milk carton.
“Where is that exactly? I’ve never heard of it before.” Lulu is the first to ask.
“It’s in California.”
“California.” She leans in like she already can’t get enough. I know the feeling... “So, what brings you all the way to Missouri?” she asks, resting her cheek on her palm as she gives him her full attention.
I know what she’s doing. I’ve seen her do it a thousand times before and the thought leaves me feeling a little nauseous.
“Long story,” he grunts, taking a drink of his milk.
“Well lucky for you, we have time.” She bats her eyelashes at him, bringing a hint of a smile to his lips.
“Condensed version. My parents divorced and my mom moved us out here to be closer to her sister.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I interject, suddenly feeling like an outsider at the table.
“It’s for the best.” He shrugs. “The more distance that separates the two of them, the better.”
“I know the feeling,” I mutter. “Though my parents might as well live in two different states given how little my dad actually comes around.”
“Parents can really complicate things sometimes,” he agrees.
“Even if they’re still together.” Lulu slides back into the conversation. “I wish my parents would divorce. It would make my life a lot easier.”
He lifts a brow at her in question.
“Lulu’s parents are... Well, overprotective,” I explain.
“Overprotective is putting it mildly.” She pouts. “Most days I feel like I live in a prison.”
“At least they care,” he offers.
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
Almost Never Page 1
