Chapter 1

Have you ever watched the boy you love, love another?

Tonight I'm supposed to be celebrating. It's the Saturday after the football team won the National Championship game. Alcohol is flowing. Music is vibrating from the speakers. Everyone is living their best lives.

Meanwhile, I'm nursing my second beer, which is now piss warm, as I watch the boy I love from afar. He tilts his head back as he lets out a booming laugh. The laugh cuts straight through me as I'm hit with a flood of memories.

Ugh, this is the worst.

My body hasn't moved from this dark corner in what feels like years. It's rooted in place, vines growing up the wall cementing me to this spot. The dark brown-haired boy with the hazel colored eyes is the sun, and I'm the flower stretching to get a hint of its rays. Begging for the slightest bit of attention.

Last semester, my former roommate and I had a huge fight where she basically implied I was a stalker when it came to my feelings for him. Maybe Macy was right. Maybe I do have a problem. But I don't think I do. I'm just a girl who got caught up in the magnetic field of a boy who refuses even to acknowledge her presence. Which is the worst considering he's a vital part of our friend group. The group of people who two years ago formed a bond our freshman year of college and quickly shifted our friendship into some sort of dysfunctional family. But while I'm here begging for a glimpse of the sunny personality he gives everyone else, I'm trapped in the shadow.

We live in opposite spaces.

If he is the entire galaxy, I am only one star.

He doesn't see me. He never does.

Instead, he sees the beautiful bombshell dancing against him. And I can't say I blame him. Monica is your typical sorority girl. Her perfect blonde hair and outfits are always on trend. I don't think I've ever seen her without makeup or her hair out of place, which is great for her, but it feels artificial. Not to mention her high-pitched voice is always too cheery and too excited. Everything in life doesn't require an extra decibel or two. If she didn't try so hard to appear perfect and get the attention of every male on campus, she might not be that bad. But the biggest issue is her personality. She's always dimming his light. She snuffs out his energy. The more that she's in his orbit the more his sunshine starts to hide.

I wonder when she looks at him, does his soul call to hers like it does mine?

I'm sure it does.

Cody Jacobs is a gift. He was handpicked by God himself to touch people's lives. He's imprinted himself in me, only I wish I'd done the same to him.

Internally rolling my eyes as I chastise myself, it sounds like I'm describing the plot from one of the romance novels I love to read.

"Drink up, bitch," my best friend, Brynn, screams over the pulsating music. Her fingers slide under the red plastic cup I'm holding against my chest as she tips the cup toward my face. Scowling at her, I do as she says. Warm liquid slides down my throat as a shiver trails my spine. Chugging the beer down, I don't stop until it's empty. My stomach immediately wants to roll at the awful beer I just inhaled. A drop escapes my mouth and slides down my chin. I use the back of my hand to wipe the stray drop, thankful that I didn't consume all the liquid.

"Thatta girl!" Brynn exclaims, bumping my shoulder with hers.

"Where's your man?" I ask, taking in her appearance. Brynn is pretty in the natural sense of the word. Her long, platinum blonde hair is almost white compared to my warm, honey-blonde. It's curled in loose waves that hang down her back. An oversized, powder-blue CTU Football shirt is the only thing she's wearing. That and a pair of white sneakers. Her style is always casual which she pulls off in an effortless chic manner. I love how she embraces her style and never dresses to impress anyone.

I mean, why would she need to when she scored the hottest football player on campus? Quinton and Brynn hit it off at the beginning of our freshman year, becoming quick besties. I'm so glad they realized they had feelings for each other and finally got together last semester. It only took them until our junior year to wake up, but better late than never. Our circle feels more complete.

I watch as Brynn looks around the room. She shrugs before turning back around to me to answer. "He's around here somewhere with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. These jersey chasers better keep their distance if they know what's good for them."

I roll my eyes. Quinton wouldn't dare look at another girl. Not only is he loyal to her, but Brynn wouldn't think twice about kicking his ass.

Quinton Boyd is a member of the Central Texas University football team—the star running back of the Eagles. This party was well-deserved, but I can't imagine how hard it is to keep the girls away. He had a hard enough time as it was before they won, but ever since the team came home with the trophy, girls have been flocking to him. They act like they have a right to fling themselves on him just because he won a game. It's disgusting. He's still a person and not a trophy to show off.

"Yo, Brynn!" Jeremiah Price, one of the football team's best defensive back shouts from across the room. He might be CTU's favorite defenseman, but to us, he's JP, our favorite goofball. Brynn and I whip our heads in his direction. "I need a partner for pong!"

She nods her head at his request, reaching for my arm. "Come on!"

"I'll be over soon," I say, shaking off her grip.

Truth is, I don't want to leave my corner. My feet are rooted in place, and I don't mind being the fly on the wall.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her eyes boring into me as if she's trying to read my soul.

Pasting on a big fake smile, I nod at her. "Yeah! Now go kick some drunk butt!"

With a quick peck on my cheek, I watch my best friend weave her way through the makeshift dance floor. That's when my eyes wander back to the dark-haired boy who consumes my every thought. Monica has her tongue halfway down his throat, and Cody's hand is skating up the back of her thigh.

I can't watch this anymore.

My feet free from the sticky, beer-soaked floor, and in the next moment, I'm charging through the sea of people. Tilting my head down, I move through the people. But my inner turmoil gets the better of me. As I glance his way one last time, I cringe at the sight of their two bodies fused in a heated make-out session. Drunk bodies bounce off me as I slide and duck my way through the crowd.

Just get to the front door. Once you get through the door, it'll all be better. The fresh air will do you good.

I'm almost through the crowd of sweaty bodies when a guy stumbles into my shoulder. Instantly, I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. I'm going to face-plant in front of all of these people. But I don't. Instead, I'm tumbling into Cody and Monica. Can I look any crazier? My shoulder bounces off his back, causing them to stumble. I don't stick around to see what happens.

Gaining my balance, I sprint—well, as best as I can in a crowded room—and run out the door. Flicking my wrist, I let the door slam shut behind me. I don't stop walking until I'm on the sidewalk. Mortification courses through me, and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

Forget the fresh air. The only thing I want right now is to curl up under my covers with the newest romance book release I downloaded on my Kindle this morning.

If I'm presented with the opportunity to face my troubles head-on or escape reality through the pages of fictional characters, I'm choosing the book every damn time.

Real life sucks.

Give me a broody book boyfriend, someone else's drama, and all the steamy scenes.