by Sarah Sutton
I reached up and poked his cheek. “You’re just nervous.”
He tried to bite my finger, but I pulled it away just in time. “What if he’s mad at me for not visiting sooner?” he asked, voice dropping to a worried pitch. “What if he’s different?”
“He will be different.” I moved to run my fingers through his hair, just like he’d been doing moments ago. “But he’s still your brother, Eli. And he’s probably over-the-moon excited to see you.”
In the month and a half since the dawn of our relationship, it had been nearly impossible to convince Elijah to see his brother. He wanted to, I knew that, but his nerves won out every time. The idea of facing his brother frightened him, to the point where I wondered if he’d ever be able to go. But the facility that housed Terry was hosting their annual March Meetup, where families and friends could come by and see their loved ones, and with the help of his parents and my mom, we’d been able to convince him it was time.
“It feels like he’s been gone forever, and it’s only been a couple of months,” he sighed, eyes slipping shut at my touch. “I know it may not seem like it, but I am excited to see him. And nervous.”
“It’ll be great,” I told him. “I’m proud of you. Are you taking your sketchbook with you? I think Terry would love to see what you’ve been working on.”
“That’s a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.” His hand returned to my hair, and I settled back against him, relaxing into his warm body. I was made to fit there, listening to his breathing, inhaling his scent. His voice, so quiet it sounded gravelly, sending a shiver down my spine. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me, Remi.”
I pushed myself up a little bit to press my lips against the side of his neck, the smooth skin there scented with his body wash, and warm under my mouth. “I’ll always do whatever you need me to do.”
Elijah’s expression was tender and soft. “I just need you to love me.”
Looking into his eyes, which were filled to the brim with warmth, I thought about everything. Everything that had ever happened between us. Us as little kids, running around town and playing make-believe. Me breaking his nose with that softball. Him inviting me to his first art show. Our first time playing the switch game with our ice creams. Our first kiss.
Two months ago, the thought of us together like this would’ve sounded crazy. I never would’ve been able to imagine it, not in a million years. We’d shared a couch before, but not like this, not with our legs entwined, not with his fingers caressing my hair. But now heat spread over me, those memories fueling it, and I couldn’t help but trace my fingertips along his lips. So soft, so perfect.
Never enough. “I do love you,” I whispered, moving to replace my fingers with my lips. “I definitely do.”
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Keep reading for a short excerpt from Sarah Sutton’s upcoming YA Romance, Out of My League!
Chapter One
“Sophia, I know it’s the last day of school, but can you at least pretend that you’re paying attention?”
I lifted my eyes from my journal, locking on Mrs. Gao at the front of the room. Two hands on her hips, two eyebrows raised. Busted.
“I’m listening,” I insisted; I wasn’t. But who could blame me? Like Mrs. G said, last day of school and all. But my ears weren’t working for a whole other reason.
Only four minutes until my last homework assignment was due—a pitch for the back to school newsletter that runs in the fall for the following school year. Our school newspaper, the Bayview High Report, prints out a newsletter at the beginning of each school year with some sort of inspiring or informative piece. The student whose idea gets chosen has the summer to work on it, so it’s ready for publication when school resumes.
Since I was going into my senior year in the fall, I’d finally be able to be in the running to participate.
And I had nothing. Nada. Zilch. I began to sweat. Verbally, not literally. My brain knew how important this was, coming up with an idea. Winning the spot of Lead Editor would make me a shoo-in for the internship at the Bayview Blade, the biggest newspaper press in the county. Each fall, they picked three seniors from the district to be interns for the school year.
No doubt they would pick the senior who wrote Bayview’s debut newsletter, and it would be me.
Okay, maybe I began literally sweating, too.
Mrs. Gao caught my eye again. Right. Paying attention.
“As I was saying, we’re facing budget cuts for the next school year. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I trust this group.” She turned to erase the whiteboard, wiping away any traces of the black-marked HAVE A GREAT SUMMER. “I’ve been trying to find a way to break this to you all, but it’s going to be a hard pill to swallow.”
My open notebook beckoned with its blank lines, taunting my lack of inspiration. For weeks now, I’d been trying to come up with an epic editorial topic. Though the back to school newsletter was only open to seniors, I’d been writing practice entries since I was a freshman. Sophomore year, I’d written about the dangers of plastic straws and submitted it to the school board. Effective the next calendar year, Bayview High switched to only offering paper straws.
But now, when my article actually mattered, the only idea on my list was Is Chicken Soup Better For You Than Tomato?
“The school has decided to cut funding for some extracurricular activities, and they’ve decided to cut the newspaper, effective next school year.”
Her words almost went in one ear and out the other, my focus so totally on my future. And then they registered, like a slap to the face. “Wait, wait, what?”
Mrs. Gao let out a weary breath, leaning onto her desk. Her posture slouched; a defeated woman. “Sales are down twenty percent, and if no one’s reading the paper—”
“A school paper is a necessity!” I objected, my throat feeling like it was starting to swell. “How else are students going to know about events, games, board meetings? How else are they going to get their information?”
A boy behind me piped up, “Uh…social media?”
I fought the urge to turn and glare in his direction. “Apparently, Sophia, the money for new baseball field bleachers is more of a necessity than information.” Mrs. Gao opened her hands out to me, lifting her shoulders.
Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not. My newspaper funding went to baseball? Waves of blood pounded in my ears, sending a shockwave of dizziness through my senses. I had to grip onto my desk to keep myself upright. This could not be happening. “They can’t just cut an extracurricular to put more funding into a nonessential sports team.” Could they?
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Acknowledgments
The idea of writing a book seems so solitary, doesn’t it? You’re typing away at a computer—who’s going to be by your side? Answer: a butt-ton of people. Seriously. What Are Friends For? was a dream forged into a reality, but it was not without the help from my army of supporters, those who waved flags of encouragement when my tank came close to running on empty.
And, of course, with the help of you! You picked up this story, you joined me on this rollercoaster of a ride, and for that I’m so completely and utterly thankful. I hope you enjoyed reading Elijah and Remi’s story just as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Ari
el and Sam, my two amazing critique partners, you really helped shape this book into what it is. Both of you have read that original draft—yikes—and both of you have been there since the beginning. Without your words of encouragement, and countless hours of conversations, I’m sure this would be a very different story!
To my amazing beta readers, L., Steph, Stacey, Alethea, Brandy, and Phoebe—you people rocked my world, in a good way! The beta reading process is always something that’s scary, but you all held my hand and guided me through it.
To my AMAZING editor, Rachel, for really getting down to the heart of this story with me and making everything sound amazingly beautiful. You rock!
To my wonderful and loving parents. Mom, Dad—I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you. Your love and support was never-ending. From the bottom of my heart, I am so appreciative of all you’ve done for me.
And finally, to the One who deserves credit for everything. These story ideas were put in my mind and my heart by You, shaped by You, inspired by You. I’m so beyond blessed to have Your hand in mine, walking along this journey with me.
About the Author
Sarah Sutton is a YA author who writes about teenagers falling in love, sometimes with magic. She spends her days dreaming up ideas with the help of her adorable puppy, Maia. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading, eating, or sleeping.
