1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Ella

THREE YEARS AGO

Winter Wonderland. That was the theme for my high school senior prom, and the gymnasium was as overdone as the clichéd theme. Silver garland draped nearly every surface. Tacky tinsel and fake snow glistened in every corner and crevice, while bulbous snowmen with creepy button eyes and gaudy scarves dominated the stage. For some reason known only to the prom committee, the entire school smelled like cinnamon. There were far too many girls wearing tiaras, and even more spackled with glittery makeup, which was totally fine, really. I liked glittery makeup and winter and snow and all that. I did not, however, like being in the middle of prom alone and bored out of my mind.

My table, or the one I claimed, was in the farthest corner from the stage and the dance floor, tucked neatly in the dark where not even the tinsel sparkled. The polyester tablecloth scratched my elbows as I propped my head up, my dress puddled in a heap around me. Unfortunately, I was also covered in iridescent glitter—not the makeup kind, the real crafty kind that stuck to everything forever. That's what I got for walking past the glitter cannon at just the right time. Luckily, my mouth was closed, but that did not keep the glitter from sticking to my lip gloss.

Dateless and friendless since my best friend decided to skip prom and move halfway across the world, I sulked in my corner counting down the minutes until my father promised to pick me up from my own personal purgatory. It's a right-of-passage he'd said, and I should revel in the last moments of high school before the inevitable storm of adulthood crashed down around me.

At that very moment, though, I hated my father more than anyone in the world, except for Corinna who glared at me from the popular kids' table. No one, and I mean no one in the history of teenagers, has ever wanted to go to prom to sit in a dark corner watching everyone else have fun. I'd begged, and I'd pleaded. I even offered to mow the lawn all summer, but Dad wouldn't hear any of my groanings. I had to attend, and that was that.

At least Bethany, my new stepmother, was kind about it and tried to lift my spirits. She was nice enough as far as stepmothers go, so I tried not to be a total brat when she took me shopping for a dress.

I glanced down at the expensive ball gown—pale blue with a fitted bodice and silver threads woven through the skirt. It complimented my pale complexion and caramel colored hair, even accentuated my pale brown eyes. I loved the dress if not the occasion.

Corinna continued shooting daggers at me from across the expansive dance floor as if I had gone out of my way to buy the same dress she wore. If I'd known she purchased the exact same gown before the dance, I would have lit mine on fire and suffered the wrath of my father rather than match her on her big day—her coronation, of course.

I bit my lip, a naughty habit that left my lower lip with a raw spot almost always, adjusted my glasses, and tried to stuff in the stray tendril of hair that kept falling out of its updo, without success again. I glanced at the clock. One more hour and I could go home, put on my pajamas, and read myself to sleep. I sighed and slipped my shoes off under the table. My feet were swollen, probably because I usually wore sneakers. I was simply too klutzy for heels, and the silver shoes were too high, too narrow, and too…sparkly.

A few classmates passed my table, one pausing to look at me. His ebony hair was slicked back Clark Gable style, his brown eyes melty and soulful, and that tux? Wow. I realized I was staring when he flashed his million-dollar grin, dimples, and all. For the briefest of moments, I thought he might ask to sit with me. My pulse pounded, sweat dotted my brow, and my stomach flipped a little, filled with nervous flutters. I swallowed, my acceptance speech all prepared in case he asked me to dance, and then…

"Can I steal this chair?" he asked.

And just like that, prom sucked again.

I nodded and lowered my eyes back to the synthetic tablecloth, already lost in my own imagination again. It's not like I didn't want to fit in, I just… didn't. I had one friend, one honest to goodness true friend, all through high school. Everyone else sort of came and went, but Simmy stuck around. She said once that I was intimidating, that introverted people, as a rule, tended to be mysterious and too much of a challenge for most people to break over their walls. I guessed she was right since no one else ever tried.

To the core, I was nothing if not an art-loving, anti-social, preferred to observe, snuggly book-obsessed introvert. I liked who I was, but it would've been nice if someone else liked me, too, besides my older sister and Simmy.

Clark Gable guy dragged the chair away and joined his friends at a table a few rows from my lonely, sad one. I propped my elbows on the table again and dropped my head into my hands so I could comfortably watch happy people dance to atrocious music. Periodically, I checked the clock to see how many minutes had drudged along.

A thundering crash interrupted my longing to go home. No one else heard it since the music boomed through the crowded room, but it was hard for me to miss since it happened right outside the door behind me. I turned to see what the racket was when the door burst open and Silas Thomas ran inside, slipped on the highly polished floor, fell on his butt, slid three feet, and came to a stop beside me. He glanced up with wide eyes, lifted his finger to his lips to shush me, then nearly took the table down when he shimmied under it, letting the long tablecloth fall behind him.

My mouth fell open and closed a few times, wordless after the sudden intrusion into my misery. He moved around under the table, periodically bumping into my knees as he tried to settle himself into his hiding place.

Two seconds later, a red-faced, seething police officer barged in. The officer marched straight up to the DJ and made him stop the music, then made an announcement to the crowd of annoyed students.

"Look, kid, I don't know where you are hiding, but if you don't get your butt in my squad car this instant, I'll shut this prom down right now." The officer white-knuckled the microphone as he scanned the gym. "I mean it. You have ten seconds, Silas. Out now or your classmates' good times are over."

I wondered whether anyone could hear Silas' heavy breaths under the table, but no one looked my way. He shifted once again and tugged on my dress skirt. I kicked him. He yelped, garnering a little attention, including the police officer's. I had a momentary crisis of conscience.

On the one hand, if he didn't go out and accept his fate, prom would end, and I could go home. On the other hand, if he broke the law and I didn't announce that he was hiding under my table, I was an accomplice to whatever he'd done. What to do, what to do?

As more eyes landed on me, I stiffened my spine and coughed. "Um, sorry. I bumped my knee on the table."

The officer turned his attention to other options while everyone else scowled at me. The tablecloth moved over my legs and out popped Silas's head onto my lap. His bright blue eyes begged me to keep quiet, but there was no need. I had already made my decision. I shoved him back under the table, accidentally whacking his head on it as I did.

"Ow!" he yelped. All eyes turned toward me—again.

"Um…Ow, uh…Sorry, did it again," I said.

The officer growled, then said, "Okay Silas, you've done it. Shut this prom down, and everyone go home, now!"

A collective complaint rose from the crowd, but I was giddy as could be. Finally, I could go home and relax until the next right of passage my father insisted I attend.

Principal Langley made the official order and kids started filing out of the gym, still grumbling and cursing the day Silas Thomas was born. If they saw Silas hiding under the table, he and I would both be in trouble for sure. There was no way anyone would cover for him after he ruined prom.

Silas, also known as the bad boy troublemaker—okay, truth be told, I hated the title since the guy was hardly a bad boy, but since he was the only boy at school brave enough to do the stupid things he did, that was the label he got. Silas had two strikes with Coldstone Creek's police department already. One more, and he'd spend actual time in jail. Backwoods county jail, but still time behind bars that would affect his entire future. Between him and his twin, Lev, there was enough drama around to last a lifetime. And let's not forget those other Thomas boys.

I waited patiently for everyone else to leave, then ducked under the table, grabbed my shoes, and gave Silas a little shake of my head—all the disapproval I could muster toward the guy who saved me from a fate worse than death. I let the tablecloth drop and started out the door. The officer was outside searching for Silas, so he took advantage of the distraction and slid out from beneath the table behind me.

"Hey, wait a minute," he called and grabbed my hand. His palm was slick and… sticky? He released my hand immediately after gaining my attention, then wiped it on his pants.

"What, Silas?" I asked.

"Thanks for not being a total nerd about that," he said and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Dark hair slipped from the sloppy mop upon his head and grazed his eyebrows. He blew it out of his face with little luck, then shoved it away with a swipe of his hand. He had worn a tux to prom, a bit big but it looked nice on him. It didn't hide the mischief in his eyes, though.

"You're welcome," I mumbled, then turned to go again. Before I took two steps, he grabbed my elbow with his sticky hand and took off in the other direction. I had to run to keep up with him or lose my arm.

"Where are you taking me? And why are you sticky?" I asked, then dodged the door he flung open. Silas dragged me through it and up the stairwell until we were at the roof access. He pulled on the door, and it opened, much to his surprise.

"Huh. Well, that was easier than expected. Usually, these doors are locked, especially after Lev got stuck up here all night last year." He pushed it all the way open and stepped out into the starry night. It was brisk for a spring night, but the crisp air was a welcome respite from the stuffy, cinnamon-scented gymnasium. I followed Silas to the edge of the roof where he leaned against the brick wall. His gaze wandered as he took in the stars.

After a while, I suspected there was no real reason he dragged me along, but my curiosity was piqued, so I asked. "Why am I on the roof with you, Silas?"

He glanced at me, studied my face intently, then turned his attention back to the skyline. "Because I ruined your prom and want to make it up to you."

"I actually wanted to go home, so you did me a favor." I pushed back the full skirt and leaned against the wall beside him, my already sore elbows scraping roughly against the bricks. The evening was beautiful, and I lost myself among the sparkles and swirls of the universe.

"Why did you want to leave?" Silas asked.

His voice broke my concentration, pulling me from demystifying the universe. "Mmm, not my thing, I guess. So, would you mind if I left now? My feet hurt." I shifted my weight and winced, instinctively shooting him a heated glare. He'd made me run in heels which almost made me hate him— almost. The fact that he ruined prom kind of made him my hero for a while.

"Why did you wear them if they hurt your feet?" he asked but didn't bother waiting for an answer. "Why did you come alone?"

He gripped the edge of the waist-high wall and leaned backward, resting his blue gaze on me again. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, frustrated I'd grabbed the wrong ones from my desk and turned my back to the skyline. "It's not like guys were lined up to accompany me. Seriously, can we leave now? I'm not trying to be rude, but my feet are going numb. They hurt so bad."

He chuckled. "Take them off, then. Toss them and free yourself from the confines of tradition, Ella."

I didn't need to be told twice. The moment the words left his mouth, I had a sudden urge to do just that. I slipped the shoes off, picked them up, and tossed them off the roof with nary a shred of regret or shame. Silas watched them fall until they hit the ground, then looked back to me with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes. I looked down at the beautiful yet ridiculous dress I was wearing and thought, what the heck? He was right. Why should I be forced to participate in traditions I didn't enjoy? I ripped the skirt straight up the seam until it reached the knee, then tore the beautiful fabric all the way around until it was a knee-length dress. The satiny pile of ruined fabric went overboard with the shoes.

Silas laughed and said, "Who knew you had a rebellious streak?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You call that rebellious?"

"For you, yes," he said, biting his lip to contain his smile.

"Oh, Silas. You don't know anything about me." It was true, but it wasn't like I was hiding anything of importance—no dark backstory, no secret love life, and no grand plans for the future—but Silas Thomas hardly knew more than what he saw on my face, a girl with glasses who loved to read.

My statement intrigued him, which wasn't exactly the effect I was going for. I was simply sick of people assuming I was a certain way because I was quiet at school and got good grades. Sure, I was a nerd, but I owned the title proudly. I also liked adventure, and Silas was probably the first person in our school to discover that little fact about me. And once he discovered it, he couldn't let it go.

He tilted his head slightly, his mischievous grin spreading wide across his face. "Well, well, it seems I've misjudged you, Ella. You and I will be great friends."

I raised my finger to my lips as he had before he ducked under my table. "Shh, you'll ruin my nerd-girl image, Silas."

He snickered and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, opened his music app, and started a slow, sweet song I adored. He offered me his hand, and for some unknown reason I accepted. Silas tugged me closer and snaked his arm around my waist. I settled into his embrace and swayed with him. There, on the roof of our high school, Silas Thomas danced with me for half an hour. It was the best prom I could have ever asked for.

PRESENT DAY

I shake the memory from my mind when Silas walks through the library door, grins and says, "Oh, it's you."

I can't stop blinking. It has been three years since I last saw Silas, but the memory of the most amazing time in my life is still sharp and clear as crystal. It had been a great time with him at prom, then a great weekend, and a whole summer of memories that I would have cherished forever if he hadn't up and left without telling me he was leaving.

He didn't even send me so much as an email. He broke my heart, disappeared, and never looked back.

Now here we are, in college, staring at each other in the study room of the local library. I'd stupidly signed up to tutor students while I was in town for winter break—because I can't not be a nerd—and leaped at the chance for a paid gig. I just…hadn't expected Silas Thomas, still handsome as ever, to saunter through that door to break my heart all over again. And he will, too, because while I watch him cross the room and pull out the chair across from me, I realize I never really got over the summer of Silas Thomas.