Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

LAKE

365 bobas left until we both die …

The first time I hear Tam Eyre sing, I crash my car into a pond.

My sea green hair catches the breeze as I swing an arm out of the open window, feeling the air rush by, enjoying the kiss of sunshine. Outside, emerald fields fold gently into valleys blanketed by trees. There are farms on either side of the road, an old gas station at the empty intersection.

I love Arkansas in the summer.

I’m singing—off-key—at the top of my lungs, sunglasses halfway down my face so that the world is part light and part shadow. I’m not worried about the road I’m driving on; I’ve taken this route a hundred times in my life, at least.

The last line of the song drifts past, and I sigh happily, slumping into my seat and breathing hard from the personal dance session I’m carrying on in my car. My phone is set to play new music at intermittent times, spice up my boring old summer playlist a little. The next song starts up while I’m still tapping a rhythm with my fingers against the wheel.

I’m not expecting to hear his voice—the voice of my Match.

I think that’s why I crash.

Definitely did not wake up this morning thinking that I’d trigger the curse.

A choking gasp shreds my throat as I hit a bump in the road and my shades fly off my face. I’m clutching both sides of the wheel in a tight grip, but there’s so much pain in my left wrist that I feel like I might die.

I force my fingers to unclench and turn my hand palm-up, so that I can see what’s happening.

The birthmark on my wrist, the one that I was born with, is on fire. It’s turning a brilliant red, like a tattoo instead of the smudge of white scar tissue that it’s been up until now.

“No,” I breathe, glancing over at my phone screen in horror. I see the name of a famous pop star underneath the album cover. Tam Eyre.

My vision is blurred with stars. Not like a fainting spell, but a navy sweep of night sky dotted with silver diamonds. There’s a warm red glow in the center, a nebula vaguely shaped like a heart. I can’t see anything but those stars. Can’t see my hands in front of my face. Certainly can’t see the road.

I’ve read enough of the Frost Family journals to know the curse is being activated, that I’m being matched to the man I’ll be forced to fall in love with.

The magic dissipates … and then I hit the fence.

As I plow through the white-painted wood, I experience the first true stab of fear. I’ve just discovered my soulmate through a song. My car rolls to a slow stop in front of a pond, the bumper underwater, tires stuck in the mud.

Cow patties are everywhere. A black-and-white cow is chewing cud beside my window, peering at me from big brown eyes beneath long lashes. She’s even wearing a bell around her neck.

I just sit there and stare at the steering wheel, letting the song play to the end. I don’t even move when the farmer whose land I just drove across comes to the window to knock. Pretty sure he’s asking if I’m okay.

I’m not.

Because I’ve just learned that I’m going to die.

My family has suffered from an embarrassing curse since the founding of America. On the same day that the Declaration of Independence was signed, my ancestor must’ve pissed somebody or something off. Found himself cursed. Passed the magic down through every generation of our family since. I don’t know the cause of the curse, but I do know this: if a member of the Frost Family is given a Match, they have one year to the day to make that person fall in love with them.

If not, then they both die.

Hah.

This is … shitty.

Literally. I have cow dung stuck to my car.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, and then I start laughing hysterically.

Think of it like the universe swiping right on the person it wants me to be in love with. Well, the universe has just picked Tam Eyre, the most famous pop star in the world.

Now I get to make him fall in love with me.

I’m sure that’ll go wonderfully.

“I’m cursed to die-by-pop-star?” I whisper in disbelief as the song on my phone changes to yet another track by Tam, and I put my face in my hands. I don’t look at the curse mark that’s etched into my wrist, this red heart-shaped smudge. It hurts like a fresh burn, an unavoidable reminder of my fate.

If I can’t get Tam to fall in love with me, we will both drop dead on the same day, at the same time, one year from now. My attention falls on my phone screen, on the video that’s playing on my music app.

There’s Tam Eyre, international superstar, doing a body roll in a music video with sexy, atmospheric lighting. Tam, with a close-up on the lush pink of his lewd mouth. Tam, with three billion views on this video alone.

“Yeah, we’re both dead,” I murmur to myself as the farmer tries and fails to get my door open. He ends up calling 911 when I don’t move from my slumped position.

I’m taken to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with me. They send me home with my cousin, and a kind (but strong) recommendation that I meet with a mental health professional. I probably shouldn’t have told them that I crashed because of an ancient curse.

I keep the long, red sleeves of my hoodie pulled down to cover my unwanted tattoo, so that Maria doesn’t notice it. If she sees the mark by accident, it’ll freak her out. It’s only been six months since the curse killed our cousin, Joe, and the Frost family is still fragile. The grief is still raw.

I need to tell my brother, Joules, first.

He’ll know exactly what to do.

Only … the idea of telling him scares the crap out of me.

“You’re lucky that I’m your emergency contact,” my cousin, Maria, murmurs, lowering her voice to a conspiratory whisper. It’s just her and me in here, but she’s dramatic like that.

Maria Sanchez, my mother’s sister’s daughter. Twenty-five years old. Curse status? Unmatched.

That used to be my status, too, until about four hours ago.

How am I going to tell my family? I wonder, but there’s no time to dwell on that because Maria is answering a call from my brother.

“Don’t,” I mouth at her as she turns and gives me a look.

“He says he hasn’t been able to reach you all day.”

I stare back at her. My brother, Joules, has good intentions, but since Joe’s death, he’s been so overprotective as to be stifling at times. I love him to pieces, but sometimes I just need a day off. So, yeah, I’ve been ignoring his messages.

“Lakelynn, he’s already gotten a call from the mechanic. Your car is there, and nothing’s wrong with it. We can go pick it up anytime.”

Oh. That’s right. My car is my brother’s hand-me-down, this piece of shit ‘98 sedan that smells like cigarettes that we inherited from our grandmother. A guy he went to high school with works at the Eureka Springs auto repair place, so I guess he called Joules instead of me.

“He wants to talk to you.” Maria shoves her phone in my direction, and I sigh, lifting it to my ear as I stare out the window at yet more farms crawling past outside. My cousin is the exact opposite of a speed demon. She’s basically a turtle. Too bad. I want her to speed, so we can get pulled over by the cop that camps the church parking lot on the far side of this little town called West Liberty. It’s one of a few small places on the hour drive from Eureka Springs to Fayetteville, Arkansas.

If we got pulled over, then I’d have more time to think. To process. To avoid my family—and most especially my brother. Out of everyone, this is going to hurt him the most. Tam Eyre and I might die at the end of this curse, but it’ll be Joules who truly suffers.

Joules and Joe and me, we’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Twenty-two years spent together. If I die, too, my brother will fall to ruin.

I could really use some bubble tea right now. Watermelon, maybe. With those little crystal jellies.

“Lake,” Joules says, and there’s a tightness in his voice that I recognize. He’s worried that I might’ve been matched by the curse. All my life, I’ve been able to tell him no. But not now. I can’t lie to him and … I’m terrified.

I feel like I’ve just been given a death sentence.

“It happened,” I whisper before he can yell at me for crashing my car. “It happened, Joules. The tattoo appeared just like Mom said, like Gram said, like everybody says. It burned like crazy and then I saw who my Match was and … Joules, I’m going to end up like—” I can’t even make myself say my cousin’s name aloud. Joe.

“Your Match, who is he?” Joules demands, his breathing even, but his words husky. Maria makes a small sound as she grips the steering wheel, her speed dropping a good twenty miles below the speed limit. She has the scar on her wrist, too, and the fear that one day—

I close my eyes. I take a deep breath.

Oh, only the most popular artist in the entire country. He just set a world record with the number of streams on his latest album. He stars in movies and dramas. He’s worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

I should fill out a pre-need funeral contract like my Aunt Clara did when she was matched, plan my own celebration of life service in advance.

“Who, Lakelynn?” Joules demands, his voice hard but gentling as he exhales. “I have to know what we’re facing here. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? We can do this.” He waits patiently as I breathe through the shock of it.

“Tam Eyre,” I tell Joules, throwing the household name out there like the man isn’t more difficult to meet in person than the president.

Joules says nothing. I’m sure he’s hoping that I’m playing games with him. I’m not.

If I do not get Tam to fall in love with me by this time next year, I will die.

My heart will stop, my skin will go pale, and Joules will be there to watch it happen like he did with our cousin. I don’t want that.

“Tam.” Joules isn’t asking a question. He’s just repeating my death sentence aloud. “Tam?!” Okay, now he’s yelling, but he isn’t angry at me. My brother is just … vivacious. Vivacious and traumatized.

“I’m going to get a boba,” I tell him, and he makes this pained growl that offers his opinion without words. Joules never needs to talk to communicate his feelings. His scowls, narrowed eyes, stomping footsteps, and inhuman noises tell you everything you need to know. “Don’t be like that: I only have three-hundred-and-sixty-five bobas left to drink before I die.”

I’m not trying to play around here: I’m serious.

Underneath my panic, buried inside my fear, there’s a practical thought simmering. Do I … do I even try to cozy up to a pop star? Or do I start living my life like I have … yeah. Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of getting boba. Or listening to music with my headphones too loud and my arms thrown out to either side, spinning in circles until I get dizzy. Fifty-two weeks left to live.

“Turn right here,” I tell Maria, gesturing at the streetlight. She mumbles something about GPS, but I ignore her. I do not need GPS to get to my favorite boba place. Who would? It’s boba.

“Lake.” This is Joules’ executioner voice. So pissed that he’s gone cold.

“I’ll see you at home,” I tell him, and then I hang up. I turn slowly to Maria, tracing the edge of my lower lip with my thumb. “You just missed the next turn,” I whisper, and she cringes.

“Directions, Lake. Directions.” She gestures at her phone, but I don’t plug the address of the boba place in and she doesn’t ask me to.

Because we both know that I’m going to die.

One year to the day, and it’ll all be over.

I sip loudly from the oversized straw stabbed through the cute plastic lid of my drink. There are hearts all over it, some pink, others purple. I spin the cup in my hands, lifting it up to read the quote printed on the side.

My eye twitches.

There’s no such thing as impossible … except for not loving Tam Eyre. #Tambourines

I snort.

Tambourines.

That’s the name of his fan club, the Tambourines. Like BLINK for BLACKPINK or ARMY for BTS.

Hell, I’d be better off matched with the whole of BTS—and they’re in the military right now. In South Korea! And I’d still have a better chance. I’d have a better chance with Taylor Swift. Anyone but Tam. Literally anyone on the planet would be easier to seduce.

Maria glances over at me, one hand wrapped around her rose milk tea with no toppings. My cousin hates tapioca pearls almost as much as she hates pineapple on pizza. I sigh wearily as Joules calls me back, putting him on speaker.

I make sure to talk first.

“There’s nothing we can do, Joules,” I announce before he can get started on one of his rants. My older brother is very, um, headstrong. My dad calls him ‘driven’. My mom calls him ‘passionate’. My cousins and I call it like it is: Joules is a dickhead. But I could not love him any more than I do.

He growls at me. Growls. It’s not just a book boyfriend thing: it’s a Joules thing.

“Lake,” he warns me as I sip on my drink. “I’m on my way down to the tow yard to pick up yourcar for you. Don’t you daretalk like it’s already over, or I’ll have them scrap it.” Joules is furious with me now. He grumbles under his breath before adding (with a generous amount of swagger and sass): “Car’s covered in cow shit, by the way.”

Low blow.

“Want to wash it off for me?” I ask cheerfully, because while Joules might be an asshole, he’s also a big brother and he spoils me rotten. I know that he’d do anything for me. He’d die for me. If he could, he’d transfer the curse from me to him. One day, he’ll go through this, too, and the thought of me not being here to help him with it makes my bones hurt.

“You know that I will—but only if you get your head in the game.” I can sense his clenched teeth and righteous indignation. He makes a scoffing sound that raises the hair on the back of my neck. My brother is not happy with me right now.

“We’re not talking about a bagel shop owner here,” I tell Joules, referencing that one time my second cousin, Margaret, found herself curse matched to some dude in New York City. That was a family affair right there. We all flew to the Big Apple to help out. Took almost six months, but we managed it. Margaret is now happily married and living in Manhattan. “Or a convenience store cashier.” That Match belongs to my Uncle Rob. “Or a childhood friend.” That would be my mom’s Match—aka my dad.

Yeah, she got matched to her childhood friend and longtime crush the last day of senior year. I could gag on the sweetness of that story if I didn’t find it so cute. They broke the curse in one day. One. I’m only surprised it took that long.

Joules growls again, and I hear a car door slam.

“This is Tam Eyre, the man who shatters records when he breathes. Did you see what happened with his last album? He pushed Taylor Swift and Elvis Presley out of the top spot for most weeks spent at number one on the Billboard charts. What are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Joules hisses through my phone. He turns his camera on, so that I can see his face, pointing at me in that way of his. I don’t turn my own camera on, sticking to audio only. “We’re going to make this fucking guy fall in love with you. I don’t care what it takes.”

I exhale and close my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat as Maria drives ten miles below the speed limit, like always. It’ll be a few before we get home. Today, I am beyond grateful for my slowpoke cousin. The absolute last thing in the world that I want to do is tell the rest of my family what’s going on.

I’ve seen countless members of my family get matched, seen the heart-shaped birthmarks on their wrists flare red with whatever strange magic propels such an insidious curse. I’ve seen them succeed in falling in love, seen their birthmarks disappear.

I’ve also seen them die.

My great-grandma, Louise. My aunt, Clara. My second cousin, Angela. My other second cousin, Nina. My great-uncle, Jack.

My best friend. Joules’ best friend. Our cousin, Joseph.

The pain hits me like a cold tsunami, dragging goose bumps up along my skin, and making me feel sick. Oh, Joe. It’s only been six months since he … and I still can’t … I was sitting right there when …

That’s how I know the curse is real; there is no doubt in my mind.

But now that it’s my time to go through all of this? I’m feeling weirdly bad for Thomas ‘Tam’ Eyre, the pop icon that I’m supposed to seduce. Or romance. Bamboozle. However you want to put it. He’s now got a stalker whose life literally depends on … you know … stalking him.

“I’m going to be a stalker,” I whisper, opening my eyes to see the molten shift of the sun as it begins to sink behind the autumn-kissed trees. There’s all of this pretty liquid gold and orange and pink and even a little bit of purple, and I can’t enjoy it. Too bad. Summer is slipping under fall’s spell, my favorite time of year. This could be the last time I see the seasons change.

“We’re going to save your life, Lake.” There’s a strange pause as Joules looks away from his phone and off into the distance the way he does whenever he’s thinking about Joe. “No matter what.” A horrible smile edges the corner of his lips, and he turns his dark eyes back to the screen. “I’ll kidnap that man if I have to.” His smile stretches into a cocky smirk. “I’ll kill him if I have to.”

“You will not,” I reply between bobas, sucking the tasty little pearls up my straw and chewing absently on them. I got crystal bobas and popping bobas today. I deserve it. “Doesn’t work, remember? Kills us both. Our great-great-great uncle, Sam Frost, put arsenic in his Match’s breakfast. They both dropped dead on the same day at the same time, twenty days before the end of the curse.”

I only know all of this because my family keeps meticulous records of everything having to do with the curse. That, and we never change our last names. It’s always a Frost Family problem.

“Well, I’ll still kidnap the fucker,” Joules protests, making Maria laugh. She nearly chokes on her drink. “Torture isn’t out of the question.”

I sigh.

“Joules.”

“Lake.”

I suck more boba into the massive rainbow straw. I only have … well, after this one, I have three-hundred-and-sixty-four bubble teas left until I die. Each one should be savored—especially a watermelon fruit tea like this. Heaven.

“I’ll see you at home, Lake,” Joules tells me in his most annoying alpha-hole voice. It works on girls, but it definitely doesn’t work on sisters. “Now.”

“I’m twenty-two, Joules; I make my own choices.” I chew on the end of my straw, ignoring Joules’ stare as it penetrates the screen of my phone and burns a hole in the center of my forehead. I can practically smell smoke.

“Come home or don’t. But if you don’t, I’ll tell the family without you.”

He hangs up on me this time. My brother and I end phone calls the way that people in movies do. We never say goodbye or clarify anything. We just hang up.

That son of a— I don’t finish the thought, staring out the window at the meandering suburban road that leads to my parents’ place. The whole family will be there today. We always gather together on Saturdays to watch college football. Arkansas doesn’t have its own NFL team, so we cheer for the Razorbacks college team. I’ve never been into sports the way the rest of my family is, but I like that we get together, rain or shine. There’s always good food, even better conversation, a hug if you want it.

“Hey Lake,” Maria whispers from beside me. When I look over, I see that her hands are locked tight around the wheel, knuckles white. “Now that you’ve been matched … are you scared?”

I don’t answer through four more sips of popping boba. You know, to fortify myself. Nothing like exploding juice-filled pearls to give a person strength. I look her way, sea green hair hanging down to obscure half my face. My other cousin, Lynn, is going to beauty school. I let her practice on me.

I suck on the straw a fifth time.

“I’m scared shitless, Maria,” I admit, a slight tremor in my voice. For as long as I can remember, I’ve known about the curse; I just never thought I’d be matched to a triple threat with ninety-three-million YouTube subscribers. “I’m terrified.”

Because if Tam doesn’t fall in love with me within the next year, we both die.

I’ll be twenty-three then. He’ll be … I have no idea.

Better get to know him though. And quick.

My life depends on it.