Chapter 2

I was almostthrough my first year of college, but somehow surviving this final week of pointless classes felt more brutal than the entire year. I dragged myself out of bed, knowing that only a strong cup of coffee from the cafe could save me from the distress of this last school day.

"Chandler!" Parker's voice made me look up from my phone on my way out of the cafe, Boston right behind him with that calm smile that seemed to light up the campus.

"Hey," I greeted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, not expecting to run into either of them.

"Grabbing a coffee myself. Wait up a sec. We'll walk you to your class," Parker said, already edging past me without waiting for my reply.

"Sure," I responded, looking down at the time on my phone.

His absence left me acutely aware of being alone with Boston—all tall and effortlessly gorgeous. He leaned against the wall, glints of sunlight filtering through the tall windows catching him at just the right angles.

"Let me guess. You already took a selfie of your coffee and posted it on your story?" Boston teased, with a subtle lift of his brow.

"That's so lame. Who would do that?" I managed a weak smile before quickly deleting the last picture I posted on my story. "And it's not called a selfie unless it's a picture of yourself."

"I see," he observed, a playful tilt to his lips.

Then, out of nowhere, a girl brushed past, her hand lingering on Boston's arm just a second too long.

"Hey, Boston," she batted her long thick lashes. "Saw your last game. The way you made those outs at shortstop was so impressive." She winked; her flirtation was annoyingly obvious.

"Thanks," Boston replied. His voice held a note of polite distance that didn't stop my stomach from twisting.

"See you around," the girl said, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Fans," he shrugged, turning back to me as if nothing had happened.

That girl's obsession with Boston forced back memories from high school. It was nothing new—I remembered moments like these like it was yesterday.

I blinked, unaware of my own expression until I saw it reflected at me in the mirror of my locker—a sharp glare, lips pursed in a scowl. Resting bitch face. I definitely needed to work on that.

"Chandler!" The voice came at me like a viper's strike, all sharp edges and hissing syllables. It was Amber Collins. Her expression pinched as she glanced nervously around before thrusting a folded piece of paper into my hand.

I could almost hear the strained screams of her scalp. Her slicked-back hair was snatched so tightly into a neat bun that it seemed as if any more tension would surely cut off the circulation to her brain. I wondered to myself if her over-styled ‘do was an attempt to compensate for the absurdity of her shorts—frayed denim cut-offs with pockets that dangled below the hemline, larger than the shorts themselves.

"So, will you give it to him?" Amber demanded, her tone laced with impatience and something else—a desperate hope masquerading as disdain.

"Give it to who?" I said, playing dumb, knowing full well that the ‘him' she was referring to could only be one person at school.

"To Boston," Amber snapped, her eyes darting toward the figure approaching from across the hall. The sight of Boston Riley always had a way of sending a ripple through the crowd. His tall, athletic frame moved toward us, his wavy hair catching the light, the piercing blue of his eyes scanning the hall until they landed in our direction.

"Sure, Amber. I'll give your note to Boston," I replied, the words sliding off my tongue with practiced ease, even though a part of me wanted to crumple the paper right there and toss it into the nearest trash can. "Although you do have the option of giving it to him yourself."

Why did everyone think I was their gateway to Boston Riley back then? I never signed up to be the go-between or the messenger for him.

"Thanks, Chandler. You're a lifesaver," Amber said, not quite able to keep the eagerness from her voice. She flashed a quick, insincere smile before turning on her heel and walking away with a sway that suggested she believed Boston's eyes were on her. They weren't.

Boston approached with a flicker of confusion crossing his features as he took in my bemused expression and the note I held between my fingers.

"You wrote me a love letter? You shouldn't have," he teased, flashing a grin.

"Not a chance!" I said while handing him the folded note, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. I was just the one who delivered them, apparently.

"Amber's work, I presume?" Boston quirked an eyebrow as he unfolded the note and scanned the contents with a casual curiosity.

"You would be correct." I leaned back against the wall, watching him with amusement. "You'd think they'd start getting more creative with their delivery methods." That was probably the fifth letter that month he got from a girl—at least the second from Amber.

Boston snickered as he looked up from the note, his gaze meeting mine. For a moment, we stood in silent understanding—both knowing it would be another letter that was going to end up in that little box he kept in his locker with the others. Boston was too nice to throw any of them out, but not interested enough to ever send one back.

"Let me guess… She thinks you're so dreamy, just like all the other girls at school." I said, crossing my arms.

"Do they now?" he said, biting his lip while giving me a lingering look before he put the combination code into his locker nearby.

"Seems like it," I shrugged, trying to shake off the intensity of his stare as I busied myself by shifting the bracelets on my wrist.

"And what do you think?" he said before tossing the letter inside the box and shutting his locker.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could form the words or even figure out what to say, Parker's voice interrupted, "Guys, you will not believe what just happened." He held his hands in the air for a dramatic effect.

My brother always had great timing, and he always left us smiling, even against our better judgment. Boston cocked an eyebrow, clearly curious. "What, did you finally walk down the hallway without tripping over your own feet?"

"Ha-ha, hilarious, but no." Parker leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "I found lint in my belly button. Actual lint!" His expression was a mix of wonder and surprise, as if this minor discovery was the most astounding thing since sliced bread.

I couldn't help it. A laugh slipped out, the sound mingling with Boston's deeper snicker. This was a typical Parker thing to say, always something ridiculous.

"Wait," I paused. "You're telling me you didn't know belly button lint was a real thing?"

Parker shrugged as he nodded earnestly. "Swear on baseball. I thought it was just something parents tell kids to make sure they wash themselves."

"Man, I thought you were better than this," Boston joked, slapping Parker on the back. "Basic hygiene, buddy. Basic hygiene."

They continued their usual horseplay in the hallway, and the moment was gone.

What did I think of Boston Riley? He had captured my heart from the moment I met him. He was the dreamy boy-next-door that inspired me to doodle his name in hearts all over my notebooks.

"Let's go before you're late," Parker said quickly, breaking me away from my thoughts.

When my excruciatingly long day was over, I had barely walked into my dorm room before she crashed into me. Her arms enveloped me in an embrace that I knew was both a hello and a goodbye. It was the kind of hug that spoke volumes without saying a word, the kind of hug that could only be from one person.

"Kristina," I laughed, squeezed tightly in her grip, "I can't breathe!"

"Sorry, sorry!" she said, pulling back just enough to let me catch my breath, but not enough to let go completely.

"Can you believe it?" she said, excitement lacing her words. "We survived our first year of college!"

Kristina was also a performing arts major, and we've grown really close over the past year.

"Not really. It flew by a lot quicker than I thought it would." I added, while taking off my backpack and placing it on my chair.

"Summer drama program, here I come." She sighed, slouching her shoulders.

"You're going to crush it," I grinned, feeling excited for her. Kristina was always ready to dive into lines and live out the emotions of any character. Being in the spotlight together was such an incredible feeling—we loved everything about theater.

Her smile faltered slightly. "I wish you were going with me," she whispered, sincerity soaking through her words. "I bet you"re going to have the best summer though. I"ve heard Bayside is such a beautiful vacation spot. My cousins go boating there sometimes."

"Yeah, it"s pretty," I shrugged. "I"ve been to a bunch of Parker"s baseball games there, but this will be the first summer I"m staying."

"First time for everything, right?" Kristina nudged me playfully, before her expression softened. "Who knows what adventures you"ll find yourself in? Maybe a summer romance? Maybe even with Boston?" She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

I laughed. "Oh, come on, Kristina. You know me better than that. I"ll probably just end up reading and getting a sunburn."

"A long sigh escaped her lips. "Well, I"m going to miss you."

"Don't worry, we'll be back here in no time," I assured her, although I secretly wished I could join her instead of being stuck with my brother all summer, who probably only asked me to come along because he felt sorry for me. My options were to tag along with Parker, or stay with my parents, and help mom with all her summer projects—which wasn't happening. "Besides, you better FaceTime or text me any chance you get."

"Promise." Her eyes held a hopeful glint. "Sweets to the sweet! Farewell," she stated firmly, with a soft smile. A line that always brought a smile to our faces from the last theater production we were both in.