1. Radley

ONE

RADLEY

"I think you got it all."

The very loud, borderline-obnoxious, slurping ceased. Millie lifted her head, the striped straw stuck to her bottom lip, and grinned. "You know I like to make sure nothing is wasted."

"It's ice."

But her grin, along with the amusement sparkling in her dark brown eyes, only grew; I expected nothing less from my best friend.

"Come on, we have to swing by the bookstore before next class."

She picked up her phone and frowned at the screen. "We have two hours. Even you can't spend two hours looking in a bookstore."

I could definitely spend two hours looking in a bookstore, but that wasn't why I wanted to get going.

"I don't want to be late to class and give everyone another reason to stare. Plus, if we're lucky, we'll get at least twenty minutes in there, and we don't have to rush."

Her thick brown hair was tossed over her shoulder with an exaggerated flick that would have made Beyoncé proud, and she arched a perfect eyebrow at me. "You know, Rad, we still haven't established people aren't staring at me . It's kind of big headed of you to assume that all these years we've been best friends, people stare at you and not me."

I laughed, just like I always did at her teasing. Though, just like it always did, the constant tightness sitting on my chest stayed put. "We both know they stare plenty at you, but for an entirely different reason."

"Yeah." Millie tipped back her glass, and the one remaining ice-cube slid into her mouth for her to crunch down on. "Come on, let's grab Batman and Robin, and get out of here."

Her voice had been loud enough that I caught Special Agent Jake Riley rolling his eyes from the booth he'd been sitting in behind ours.

It was the only indication he ever gave that Millie got under his skin, like she'd made it her mission to do since he'd been assigned to lead my protective detail right before my mom took office at the beginning of this year.

I wasn't sure if she did it to purely make me laugh and distract me from the situation I was in, or if she was trying to get Jake's attention because she had the hots for him, but wouldn't admit it.

"Radley, we're going to go out the back entrance," Meg Fordly slipped into the seat next to me and shot a wry look to Jake, "and just so we're all clear, I'm Batman. "

I didn't bother asking why we were going out the back door. I didn't particularly want to know. It wouldn't be anything different to yesterday's reason, or the day before that. Wherever I went, people liked to stare. It had been this way for as long as I could remember. It came with the territory of having parents in public office. I'd almost gotten used to it, but then I became the President's daughter, and the staring moved from a local stage to a national one.

I'd only been at Columbia for three weeks, so we still hadn't reached the point where the sight of me mundanely walking to and from my classes, or even less interestingly, eating in one of the campus diners, wasn't enough to cause a stir. Not to mention the one time I attempted to use the Columbia gym, but spent my entire workout trying not to be distracted by a few undergrads sneaking a picture of me from the reflection in the mirrors, and hoping I hadn't seen them.

I had.

Then there were those who thought I'd love to know I looked fatter or thinner in person, taller or shorter, or how awful it must have been for me that pictures of my naked ass and one breast had flooded the internet eighteen months ago.

Yeah. Awful. Not the word I would choose, but it's hard to know what to say to someone in that situation. Right?

I tried to make it as hard as possible for the ones who liked to stare, but Millie had forbidden me from wearing sweats and a hoodie 24/7 and only going out in the dark, like I'd wanted to. So instead, I stuck to exclusively black or navy, and prayed I'd blend in.

She said it would die down.

It hadn't yet.

Neither I, nor any of the eight Secret Service agents assigned to me on rotation, had taken fraternity pledge weeks into account. Because since the beginning of last week, it had become clear that pledges had been set the task of getting a selfie with me – or any kind of picture with me for that matter.

Millie had noticed it first; the iPhone wielders had been more zealous than usual, and then she overheard a frat-boy wannabe talking about a top prize being awarded to anyone who managed to bring me back to their house – by any means.

Official warning letters had been immediately fired off to the Dean and the heads of each of Columbia's sixteen fraternities that they'd risk being heavily fined, or shut down if the behavior continued. But dropping a lit match to gasoline would have been less incendiary; the attempts increased – and got more creative.

For the past week I'd woken up twitchier than normal, more tired than normal, but that was nothing on Jake's feelings. His days were spent marching down a warpath; something two guys discovered this morning after they'd jumped at me from behind a bush as we walked to our first class. They were subsequently invited to spend the rest of the day answering questions at the Secret Service headquarters downtown.

In short, the back entrances to buildings were becoming my friend.

Millie caught sight of Jake's face, let out a hearty snort and stood up, flashing her perfectly straight, Hollywood smile his way. "Let's go, Robin."

His face remained impassive as usual, and I almost felt bad that my mom had switched him from her detail, but it was the only way she'd let me leave D.C. He would never complain, but moving from protecting the President of the United States to babysitting her teenage daughter had to feel like a downgrade – though dealing with Millie was likely preferable to the lunatics surrounding my mom day-in-day- out.

Six of one and all that…

"Hey, you guys, you know Jake doesn't like it when you gang up on him," I joked quietly, stepping in line behind Meg.

"He's just in a mood because he had to sit through Women and Victorian England this morning."

I coaxed out a small laugh, forcing myself to look as natural as possible so that everyone watching us leave could report absolutely nothing of interest about Radley Andrews when they told their friends/parents/anybody who'd listen that she was sitting next to them at lunch.

Because when the story was repeated, I'd always be sitting next to them.

Instead, what I was really doing was my best to ignore the way the heads of everyone who'd also chosen to have their lunch at Mickey's 24-Hour Sandwiches twitched in that way that meant you were trying to get a good look, but didn't want to get caught doing so.

"Someone needs to remind Millie that I'm armed," Jake muttered under his breath from close behind me as we passed through the diner's kitchen.

Two more special agents were standing at either end of the narrow alleyway we stepped out into. Millie closely missed a puddle of soapy water as she startled away from a cloud of steam shooting out from a pipe in the wall, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop the laughter at the way her face screwed up. Because it was either laugh or cry.

I was getting better at laughing.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, taking her hand.

Her warm fingers wrapped around mine as she squeezed me gently. "Nothing to be sorry for. Front doors are overrated. "

"Copy," Jake held down his earpiece and looked at me. "Okay, we're good to head to the bookstore. Ava is waiting there for you, and you'll be pleased to know it's quiet. But we have to go that way…" he pointed down the alley to where Special Agent Ethan O'Leary was standing.

My brows shot upwards, and I thumbed behind me. "The store is the other way, though."

"Yeah, but we're going this way. Unless you want to get in the car?"

I could almost hear the pleading in his eyes for me to take the vehicular option, but I wanted to walk, and Jake knew it. The deal I had with coming to Columbia and getting out of D.C. was that as long as I had reasonable protection, then I would I live as normally as I could. My mom and I differed on our opinions of what constituted as reasonable, but it wasn't an argument I won.

Even though he'd been with the Secret Service for thirteen years, his youthful appearance – or Baby-Face Jake as Millie had taken to calling him, against my strong objection – meant he could easily pass as a fellow student, instead of the thirty-five-year-old he was. He'd perfected the Columbia University post-grad aesthetic, albeit a post-grad student whose jacket hid a SIG-Sauer pistol he could shoot dead-center from twenty-five yards.

His team was equally as deadly.

While I fundamentally opposed my freedom being curtailed in the way that meant every minute of my day was monitored, it was hard to be mad at Jake, Meg, Ethan, Ava Hernandez – or any of the guys who switched out for night duty – when they were just doing their jobs. Especially when their job meant taking a bullet for me.

Or stepping in to stop an overzealous frat boy with an iPhone, as was more likely .

Therefore, I kept my mouth shut, and went about my days trying to cause as little trouble as possible, especially as I'd already caused enough.

Throwing an apologetic smile at Jake, I hitched my backpack up and looped my free arm through Millie's, leading her out of the alley. Ethan waited until we reached the sidewalk, nodded, and walked ahead without a word, knowing we'd be behind him, ambling under the Columbia University flags flying from each streetlight.

With the other agents close by, Millie and I were now in a protective little circle. To the untrained eye, we were two college girls walking down the street, heads together while we gossiped and laughed, and made our way to collect the textbooks our professor had requested we order. If you looked closer, you'd see we were probably the two safest girls in New York City.

It didn't make me feel any better though, especially when my entire body stiffened at anyone approaching us on the street, even though they always walked straight past.

I gripped Millie as a guy jogged toward us, sighing deeply as he continued on. "Mills, do you think I should have stayed in D.C.?"

She inched closer to me as we stepped off the sidewalk to let a mom with a stroller fit through. "Waddya mean?"

"For school, do you think I should have gone to G.W. instead of Columbia? Or deferred another year?"

She shook her head. "Nope, because then I'd have to be here by myself and I'd be forced to talk to other people, which we both know I'd hate."

The first proper laugh I'd had all day rolled up from my belly at the ridiculousness of that statement. Millie might complain about people, but she was always the center of any room she walked, or more aptly, strutted into, without giving a single care to anyone watching. Everyone loved her; they flocked to her because of her dry wit and a dirty, gravelly laugh which always made her sound like she'd been drinking bourbon at the back of a smoke-filled Nashville bar her entire life. Not to mention the way her face always lit up as she told a joke.

They wanted to spend time with her because of her , not because she could propel any current or future political career they may have. Or because it would make a good story; a hefty deposit into the bank of cultural currency.

"I think you'd be fine."

"I'm just saying, I don't want to make any new friends. I have all the friends I need with you." Out of habit, Millie moved half a step ahead as we passed by a long line of students waiting for their chai/Frappuccino/cold brews outside a coffee-shop, blocking me from their view.

It wasn't until we passed and they were out of earshot that I realized I'd been holding my breath before I spoke again. "Thanks. But…"

"Radley, you would have hated staying in D.C. If you hadn't lived at home, your mom and dad would have made you go home every night for dinner. The fraternity thing wouldn't be any different at G.W. than it is here, and at least in New York we're far away from that… amoeba ..." She almost spat out the word and I found myself grinning, because while we'd agreed to never mention his name again, amoeba was a new alternative. She followed with a lopsided shrug. "I mean, we could have been in the Californian sun at Stanford, learning to surf at the weekends or getting drunk in the vineyards, but New York will have to do." She turned to me with a wink. "You'll love it here, Rad. We're gonna have the best time. People will soon get bored of seeing you, I promise. Columbia will be the best years of our lives, and the last eighteen months will be forgotten before you know it."

My shoulders dropped by half an inch, and the constant swirling of anxiety slowed down but didn't stop. It never stopped.

I wanted to believe her so badly.

"You think?"

"I know."

"Thanks, Mills. I love you, and I'm glad you're with me. I'm lucky to have you."

"We're lucky to have each other." Her gaze flicked to mine, a split second of excruciating sadness flashing behind her chocolatey irises as we reached a set of crossroads. I pulled her out of the way right before she stepped into the road at the same time a car turned left. All it did was make her grin, whereas it gave me a near heart-attack. "See? Lucky."

I could almost feel Jake's tut from behind me, and when the orange flashing man lit up, I held onto her and walked us safely across the street. Fifteen yards ahead, Ethan set off again.

"What did you think of class this morning?"

She tapped a long, manicured finger against her lips and blinked slowly. The intensity built in her narrowed eyes before she answered. "I think I'm glad I didn't live in Victorian times."

My laugh burst out. "What?"

"What?" she grinned. "I'm just saying, everyone was so repressed. I would have much rather been alive during Austen's times. She seemed like fun, plus she was an advocate of dating an older man."

I was tempted to glance back at Jake, but held it in. "I guess she did. I'd live in Shakespeare's times. What did you think of Professor Hawkes?"

"I liked her. I like that she's not old and fussy. She felt like someone I'd be friends with… ya know… if she was our age. Her class was fun this morning."

"Yeah, she seemed cool. I was expecting all our professors to be way older."

"Me too."

We walked in silence for a minute, or as silent as you could in New York City with the sounds of sirens and car horns echoing over from the surrounding streets. A guy passed by on a bike, a stereo strapped to the back blasting out hip-hop so loudly I worried for his eardrums.

There was something about this place that wasn't found in D.C. New York had life and vibrancy; it wasn't tangible, but it lingered in the air and fired up your synapses until it had taken over your nervous system. A thought so fleeting it could barely be classified as one, flashed in my brain… could New York heal me?

Cutting through Morningside Park, we were treated to a fiery palate of orange, gold, red, and pink leaves holding firm on their respective trees, which warmed my heart, even in the cooling September air. Washington might be picture perfect in the spring with its blossoms around the Tidal Basin, but New York in the fall was magic.

"Why've we stopped walking?"

I grinned at Millie, so wide my cheeks ached, and pulled her in for a hug. "No reason, just something about this place. Look at the colors! They're so pretty, Mills. It's making me happy."

Craning back, her head tilted in that way it always did when she was putting serious consideration into something, right before her face creased in amusement. Slinging her arm around my shoulders, she planted a kiss on my cheek. "Good. I'm happy that you're happy. You're right; it is pretty once you get out of the dorms and off campus, and we have three years to explore it."

I hummed in quiet response. The entire city seemed like a lot.

"Hey, we don't have any plans tonight, do we? We should go out. We should go and play pool."

I stopped gazing at the trees and turned to Millie, my brows furrowed. "What?"

"Pool. We should play it."

"Why?"

"Why not?" she replied, her eyes wide in challenge, because she knew getting me anywhere was a challenge – one she always rose to. "Radley, we should go out."

While I'd been staring at the trees, the knot between my shoulder blades – the one I could never quite reach to ease – had loosened, but the thought of going out where other people were, tightened it right back up again. It was one thing to walk through a park, it was another to be stuck in a room full of drunk college students.

"I dunno. We haven't been here a month yet. I should stay under the radar a little longer, especially while it's a bit crazy."

From the look on Millie's face, I knew my argument wouldn't work, just like I knew nothing would deter her once an idea took hold. I should probably give up now.

"Radley, you came here to live your life. You need to live your life, not hide from it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Don't let the actions of one miserable fraction of a person dictate what you do."

I glanced back up at the trees, like the answer would be there, and side-eyed her. "And your solution to that is to play pool?"

"No, but our afternoon will be spent discussing poets of the American Revolution, so I think we'll need to blow off some steam in a way that staying in the dorm another night won't do for us."

I knew she was right; we couldn't stay in the dorms forever. I also knew deep down that it wasn't what I wanted either. What I wanted was to live out my final teenage year and head into my twenties in the way everyone else did: to the fullest.

Not by dwelling on the mistake which had put an end to that.

Except wanting something and putting it into action were two completely different things. But I also knew that one way or another, I'd be playing pool tonight.

I sighed in defeat. "I'll let Jake know. Anywhere in mind?"

"Somewhere close with a pool table?" she laughed, taking in my raised brows when she offered up nothing more. "What? I came up with the plan, Jake can execute it. See if he can find the grossest, divey-ist bar in the city. I'm talking sticky floors covered in shells and everything. He'll love it."

We both knew that was a big fat lie, and it kept us laughing until we left the park.

Ten minutes later we'd crossed the sidewalk opposite Brown's, an independent bookstore I'd always wanted to visit, and a cornerstone of New York's literary world. Ava and Ethan were standing at the front doors as Millie and I approached; Jake and Meg were somewhere close behind us.

"Radley, it's quiet inside. If you want to stay and look around, Jake's cleared it. There's a couple of people on the second floor and a handful more on the first, but not a frat boy in sight. You timed it right."

I grinned at the two of them, suddenly brimming with that absurdly happy feeling again. As much as I wished my protective detail wasn't around, I was grateful they tried to make concessions for me when they could. And they knew how much I loved to spend time in a bookstore.

I'd live in one if I could.

"Thanks, guys. You're the best," I said, walking through the doorway Ethan was holding open for me.

I stopped on the threshold.

It was gloriously empty.

A big vestibule with six large tables, neatly stacked with the latest best-sellers, greeted us. Piles and piles of colorful covers and spines were aching for shoppers to pick them up. Beyond that, along the far wall, stood a bank of cash registers, and to the side of them began the rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim. In the corner, the bottom of a long winding staircase began its loop around the store to the second and third floors, where, according to the signpost, I could find non-fiction, and children's books.

My nostrils flared as I inhaled as deeply as I could, breathing in the scent of fresh literature.

It was almost a sedative.

Millie tugged on my sleeve. "Come on, Rad. Disneyland is open. I'll go and pick up the textbooks, you go nuts on the shelves."

"Okay, come and find me in Women's Fiction!" I called, not giving her a second glance as I took off.

Following the signs toward the back of the store, I spotted another arrow pointing in the direction of the rare books section, and my little bibliophile heart kicked up in a steady pitter-patter of excitement. Glancing back the way I came, I found Millie talking to a store assistant, while Meg and Ethan were with Jake. My eyes cut to the sign again – they'd find me if they needed to. The store wasn't that big, and I was only a couple more rows over.

The floor changed underneath my steps; the hard wood leading from the entrance had become a softer carpet, muting the sound of footsteps and bringing a sense of reverence. If you hadn't known you were entering a sacred space, you did now.

Stopping at the end of the section, I found myself among locked glass cases of the rarest books, including shelves and shelves of first editions, all kept safe from sticky fingers and high-end thievery. It almost felt like I was in The Library of Congress as I ran a fingertip along the glass, only to hastily remove the smudge my finger had left with the sleeve of my sweater.

Here the books weren't sectioned by alphabetical order, they were split according to era, all lined up in varying shades of worn brown leather and faded gilt lettering, inside individual protective sleeves; Victorian, Regency, Romantic, Modern… and on and on it went. My heart leaped as I spied a first edition of Pride and Prejudice next to Mansfield Park. In the next section ran Dickens, Bront?, and Arthur Conan Doyle. Shakespeare was carefully housed in a cabinet all on its own.

This is how kids must feel entering a candy store for the first time. Or any time.

My eyes swept slowly along the rows, my smile growing with each one. There was so much history here… so much knowledge, stories, and… I stopped.

My stomach flipped in a nervous little dance.

In the middle of the row, the very top section of the shelf was open. Whoever had been here before me hadn't replaced the glass barrier. The books were open for anyone who wanted to see them .

Touch them.

It was too high for me to see what was kept up there, even when I lifted up on my tiptoes and clung onto the shelf for more leverage.

I dropped back onto my heels.

Peering around the end of the row, I found Ethan standing near the front doors. I could see Meg and Jake on the second floor overlooking the store from the balcony, and Ava was by the Women's Fiction where I'd told Millie I'd be. Ava and Millie were the same height as me, so they wouldn't be able to help, and I was too far from Ethan or Jake to get their attention without commanding the attention of everyone else here.

Right this very second, I was alone, with nothing but the open shelf for company.

The nervous little dance turned from a jig into something resembling the macarena.

I should probably go and find Millie. I should probably listen to my instincts screaming at me to go and find Millie … But there was something about these books.

These books held more than just the words on the page. I desperately wanted to open one, touch one. I wanted to do something I definitely shouldn't. I wanted to do something no one else in the world knew I was doing right now.

I stood in front of the shelf and gazed up.

If I tried to climb up it, then my luck dictated it would topple. And that would not help me stay low-key, and I'd probably be liable for thousands and thousands of dollars of damage.

The news networks would lose their shit with excitement: Radley Andrews fucks up once again.

I needed a better plan .

There were no ladders along here, but at the end of the row, I spied a small stool. I still needed to get on my tiptoes, but the stool was tall enough that when I stepped up, I managed to touch the spines of the books. Double checking there was no one to witness what I was about to do, I gripped my fingers around the first one I could and eased it out.

I'd been concentrating so hard on not making any noise while being as careful as possible, I didn't realize there was someone behind me until it was too late.

A long arm reached over my head and pulled the book free.

All at once my senses became overwhelmed. A crushing panic flashed through me. My veins flooded with adrenaline and cortisol. My brain screamed at me for being so stupid. Because without looking, I knew the heavy bicep brushing my shoulder belonged to a stranger. A strange man.

A man who'd snuck up on me.

I carried a panic button wherever I went, but all I managed was a lowly and pathetic squeak as I spun around, and hit a hard plane of muscle.

"Whoa, there." His big hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back from the topple I was about to make.

Any minute now my rib cage would cave in from the hammering it was taking.

I managed to tear my gaze away from the thick chest filling my vision and look up. Immediately, the ringing in my ears stopped and my racing pulse moved to a gentle trot as I found myself locked into the most hypnotizing eyes I'd ever seen. Light hazel stared back at me with ill-concealed bemusement, along with a hefty dose of curiosity to really add that element of what the fuck is this woman doing? but not, I realized, holy shit, it's Radley Andrews.. .

This guy wasn't staring like he had plans to kidnap me and take me back to his fraternity.

Nope – I double checked, just to make sure – I was right the first time; there was only bemusement.

I'd been surrounded by security men my whole life; the fittest of the fit. I'd seen servicemen, elite operatives, guys who ran fifteen miles a day for something to do, guys who built their muscles to protect, instead of simply to look good and pose in front of a mirror.

And yet, I'd never seen anyone like this guy standing in front of me.

He definitely wasn't a frat boy; I knew that much.

No freaking way.

Frat boys did not look like this. Frat boys were not hewn from weathered rock or granite or whatever this guy had been made from. Frat boys did not have lips; pink, full and inviting, or leave me wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

When I finally managed a breath, my senses prickled from the scent permeating the air around us; amber, rich and smoky, reminding me of the time my parents had taken my brothers and me camping in Yellowstone. We'd stayed up all night around the fire, toasting marshmallows and watching the stars. That trip was one of the happiest memories I had.

Frat boys did not smell like happiness.

The longer I stared, I realized that the sparkle in his eyes was from a dozen tiny flecks of emerald among the hazel; brilliant green even under the peak of his ball cap. His rich golden skin was tanned in way that made it clear he spent a lot of time outdoors, contrasting with the way he was dressed – dark wash jeans slung low on his hips, and a pale caramel cable knit sweater had been made for his body, and his alone – and from the brief glimpse of his muscled forearm passing over my shoulder, I knew the watch on his wrist was worth upwards of fifty thousand dollars.

"You're not supposed to climb the shelves..." All of a sudden, the temperature in Brown's turned tropical, very near to stifling as his eyes slowly traveled the length of my body and back again. But it wasn't until he grinned, showing off perfect, straight white teeth and the lighter bronze flecks in his dark beard caught under the harsh strip lights, that my heart nearly stopped. Or maybe the beat had moved between my legs, "…even if you are vertically challenged."

My mouth dropped open; that voice – a deep baritone vibrating over my skin caused tiny electrical pulses, bringing me to life. Back to life.

He peered at the spine as he handed the book to me, one thick eyebrow raised with what looked like approval. "Good choice."

I'd been managing full sentences since I was two years old. I spoke three languages, and yet not one word in any language seemed to form in my brain as we stood there staring at each other.

"Okaaaay then."

The stranger turned to leave, right as Jake appeared at the end of the row.

"Radley?"

And now I wasn't the only one staring at the mystery guy, although the way Jake was staring made me think he wasn't imagining him naked like I was. No, Jake was pissed, but trying not to show it. The guy walked right past with barely a second glance, and definitely didn't care that Jake was using the seconds to study his body language, memorize his face, ascertain his threat level…

Jake stayed where he was until the guy disappeared, then his strides ate up the plush carpet and he was standing in front of me with a frown. I was still on the stool, and almost eye level. Jake always seemed tall to me, he was tall, but even on the stool I'd had to look up at the mystery guy.

"We should go if you don't want to be late for your class. Do you want to buy that?"

I looked down at my hands, holding the book I'd failed to remove from the shelves.

Don Quixote.

"No," I replied with a shake of my head. "No. Could you put it back, please? I can't reach."

Jake took it from me and returned it to the gap it had left.

"Let's go. Millie's at the register buying half the store," he grumbled.

I followed him silently until we reached the doors. Silent – except for one large groan.

I might not have bought a book, but I didn't leave the store empty handed; I was now the owner of a fresh bump to my head from walking into a bookshelf.

Because that's what happens when you pay more attention to the whereabouts of mystery guys than watching where you're going.