Chapter 1

chapter one

Addie

Once upon a time… there was a girl who lived above the garage with absolutely no social life, like the most pathetic college senior in the history of the world, who was going to be forced into an arranged marriage by her evil stepfather.

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

My chipped blue nail jabs at the backspace key of my old laptop over and over until the glowing screen is blank again for the hundredth time… tonight.

I'm supposed to be working on my senior art thesis, a portfolio showcasing my artistic style in the form of a fictional fairy tale, but the only fairy tale I can write about my life is the one where Cinderella doesn't get her Prince Charming, and instead, she grows old with her fat, sassy corgi, locked in a proverbial tower, imprisoned by the man she's being forced to marry.

That's my fairy tale… more like a nightmare. It's as screwed up as it sounds.

Truthfully, it sounds insane , yet… it's my reality.

Groaning, I drop my forehead onto the keyboard, causing my old, rickety desk to rattle noisily, and Augustus, the fat corgi in question, whines grumpily when he's awoken from his nap.

"Sorry, Auggie," I mutter dejectedly, still face-planted into the keyboard of my ancient MacBook.

There's no way I'm going to be able to create a fairy-tale depiction of my life. Because for girls like me, there is no happily ever after, and I'm very much aware of that fact. Which is making it nearly impossible to create a fictitious one in my head for said senior thesis.

It's not like me graduating college weighs on this or anything.

When I hear footsteps tromping up the stairway leading to my room, I begrudgingly lift my head from the keyboard and see Amos standing on the top step. He's the closest thing I've had to… family since my mom passed away.

He runs my family's bakery, conveniently located right next door to our house, which makes it easy for him to drop in to check on me. He's really the only person who cares enough to check on me.

His long, gray ponytail swishes as he makes his way over to me and reaches down, plucking something off my forehead, then holding it up for me to see.

The J key from my keyboard. Apparently in my melodramatic theatrics, it popped off and stuck to my forehead.

Unsurprisingly fitting for my mess of a life.

"Don't ask," I quip, swiping it from between his fingers and popping it back into place on the keyboard.

Amos's brow furrows deeper, a look of concern washing over his face. "Have you been here all day?"

I nod as I drag my gaze back to the blank screen and sigh. I've been at it for an embarrassing amount of time, and I've gotten exactly… nowhere.

"Well, it's a good thing you're done for tonight, then, huh?" He reaches past me and pushes the computer screen shut. "You, my darling girl, are going to a party."

A laugh bubbles from my lips until I realize by his sudden serious expression that he's not joking.

"Uh, what?" I sputter. "I don't go to parties, Amos. So, that's obviously not happening. "

"Exactly. Cher," he says, using the term of endearment he's called me since I was a small child. "All you do is work, go to class, study, and stay cooped up in this room making art. So tonight, you're going to go out. With people. Actual people."

"I… hang out with people," I retort defensively.

His gaze narrows. "People your age, Addie. Earl and I do not count. We're your family. You need to be around people your own age, doing something besides work or school. Having fun. Which is why tonight you're going to go to the back-to-school bash on campus. Before you ask, you left the flyer on the counter in the bakery."

Crap. I meant to throw it away after finding it on the windshield of my car at school, but it clearly never made it to the trash can.

The thought of me going to a party, a frat party at that, is actually ludicrous.

Me.

At a party.

Yeah, right.

Standing from the computer chair, I walk over to my unmade bed, scooting a snoozing Auggie and all of his belly rolls over, and then crawl between the star-patterned blankets.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm betrothed to an evil toad and will be forced into an arranged marriage soon. These are my last weeks of… freedom." My tone is jokingly light, but the truth is I've been looking for some way, any way , to stop this insanity from happening. We both have.

Except… time is running out, and therefore, so are my options.

When my stepfather, Brent, approached me with this plan over a year ago, I thought he had truly lost his mind. Need to be committed to a psych ward kind of crazy.

My mother's bakery, Ever After, was her pride and joy that she'd dedicated all of her love to before she got sick.

And he ran it into the ground.

Now, the bank is on the verge of taking it, and his solution is to marry me off to Dixon Barrilleaux, believing his family's money will save the hole that he's dug our family's business into. So, either the bank takes it, or he'll sell it to pay off the mortgage.

My choice is to lose Ever After or to agree to this archaic scheme and hold on to the only piece of my mother I have left.

It was never really a choice, and he knows that.

I couldn't lose Ever After, no matter what it cost me, which has led me here. The clock is ticking, and the figurative guillotine lowers closer to my neck by the second.

"Addie," Amos murmurs softly as he sits on the edge of my bed and pulls the covers down to peer at me. "I truly cannot imagine what you're feeling right now, my darling, and we won't stop trying. We won't stop looking for a way to prevent this from happening. But in the meantime, you can't stop living. This is the time of your life to be free and young and wild before the real world creeps in. Cher, you are the most responsible person I know. You've had to weather things most kids your age haven't. You're levelheaded, driven, and focused in a way that many adults never are, but I want you to experience all of these things before you start the rest of your life."

My laugh shakes Auggie from his nap again, earning me another grumpy growl. He opens his eyes just long enough to give me that notorious judgy corgi look. "Sometimes it just feels impossible to look ahead, Amos, past the impending nuptials of doom , you know? What's the point anyways? And besides, I'm perfectly content here, painting, reading, and pretending that I'm not a college student with no social life, about to be sold off in marriage."

I think putting myself out there and actually attempting to talk to people and make friends would be considerably worse than being here alone in the first place. While I'm comfortable around Amos, I'm painfully shy around basically anyone else.

The campus wallflower.

And most of the time, the people I go to school with don't even see me in the first place. I'm practically invisible. It reminds me of a scene in one of my favorite '90s rom-coms where the shy, quiet girl literally gets sat on by a jock in the courtyard.

That's my everyday life.

Except no one sat on me—they just walked right by without ever noticing my presence instead.

It seems pointless to form relationships anyways when, essentially, I have no control over my future.

"Oh, come on, cher. Go out and have a night of fun. One single night, just for a few hours. That's all I'm asking for. Try to let go of the things weighing on you for one night. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it," he pleads, his dark hazel eyes holding mine.

Sighing, I sit up, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my head on my knees, "Is it really this important to you?"

"Yes. Because you're important to me, and I want to see you live a little. I'm putting my foot down. Up. Up. Let's go." Within a split second, he's on his feet, shooing me out of the bed. "You can thank me tomorrow."

As much as I'm dreading it, I agree. Only because I don't want to disappoint Amos.

Much like Cinderella, I'm waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Because once it does, my promise to Amos will be fulfilled, and I can leave this stupid frat party that I never wanted to come to in the first place.

The deal was I'd stay until midnight.

But… I never promised that I'd actually stay at the party. Only that I would attend.

Clutching my sketchbook against my chest as if it'll protect me from unwanted attention, I make my way through the crowded, unfamiliar house in search of the nearest exit.

Relief floods my chest when I slide open the glass door at the back of the house and find the patio deck completely, gloriously empty.

Possibly the first and only thing that has gone in my favor tonight.

After stepping outside, I slide the door shut behind me, then walk to the edge of the wooden deck that overlooks the backyard and carefully sit along the edge. I set my sketchbook down next to me and peer out into the darkened wood line of looming cypress trees beneath a sea of bright stars.

It's kind of peaceful once you take away the loud, obnoxiously drunk frat guys and the absolutely horrid music they're blaring through the speakers. Yet another reminder that this whole party scene is not—and will not ever be—my thing… not that I needed one.

I pull my favorite drawing pencil from the pocket of my cardigan, open my sketchbook to my work in progress, and pick up where I left off. Like always, I quickly get lost in the details on the page, completely oblivious to the world around me.

Until I hear the back door sliding open and the sound of someone stepping out onto the deck, interrupting my quiet oasis.

My gaze slides to the intruder, a tall, dark blond guy who's stumbling toward the banister on the other side of the deck. He's either ignoring the fact that he's not alone… or he doesn't even realize that I'm here. Which makes sense because I'm generally invisible. I'm going to go with the latter because he begins fumbling with what I assume is the zipper of his pants, the dark gray T-shirt stretched across his shoulder rippling as he struggles.

"Goddamn zipper," he grunts. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"Um… Hi. Can you please not … um, pee with me right here?" I say loudly, alerting him of my presence. Normally I revel in my invisibility, but it feels like a violation of privacy to be out here without making him aware of it.

His head whips toward me, and a pair of piercing blue eyes meet mine in surprise for only a split second before he loses his balance and pitches forward over the banister railing, tumbling into the bushes below with a loud, pained grunt.

Holy crap.

Immediately, I jump to my feet, dropping my things and sprinting across the deck to the banister. My hands grip the railing as I peek forward over the side. The guy is half face down in a bush below with the other half of him sprawled on the ground, unmoving, and for a moment, I worry he might be dead.

Oh my god. Did I just accidentally… kill a guy?

Can tonight possibly get any worse? I'm going to faint from how fast my heart is racing.

"Please, please tell me you're not dead," I squeak loudly, leaning over further to inspect the mystery guy below. "Hello?"

When there's no answer from him, my stomach twists in a knot of anxiety.

"Please don't be dead," I mumble to myself. "Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

Finally, after the longest few seconds of my life, there's a deep, muffled rumble of a groan from below, and the guy lifts his hand slightly, alerting me that he is, in fact, alive.

I spring into action, taking the stairs leading down two at a time until I drop to my knees next to him. His head is still face down in the bush, so I truly have no idea if he's actually okay or not.

"Hi, are you hurt?" I breathe. "Should I… call an ambulance?"

It wasn't a very far fall, maybe a few feet at best, but he did just land face down on what looks to be a very prickly bush…

"Nope." More muffled words. "All good. Just need a second."

I find myself sighing in relief that he doesn't appear to need immediate medical attention. Nodding as if he can see me, I sit back on my feet and give him a moment. I feel so bad that I'm the reason he went sailing over this banister.

After a moment that seems to stretch, he pushes up off the bush, and I scramble forward, wrapping my fingers around his bicep to attempt to help him up.

I pause when I feel the hard muscle beneath the pads of my fingers.

Wow, his arms are extremely… solid .

I probably shouldn't be worried about how hard his muscles are right now, but it's also very difficult to ignore.

Once he rights himself, he flops down onto the grass, groaning as he leans back against the side of the house, and places his forearms on his bent knees in front of him. His dark blond hair is tousled from his fall, and there are a few leaves and what looks like a small piece of branch protruding from it. When our eyes meet, a sheepish grin flits to his lips, revealing a row of perfectly straight white teeth and a slight dimple on each side of his cheeks.

Wow. I mean… uh… Holy crap, this man is hot. Even with shrubbery sticking out of his hair, he is possibly the most attractive man I've ever seen.

So attractive that I forget how to speak for a second due to the fact that my heart is currently racing at breakneck speed in my chest, making my brain short-circuit.

"This might be the most painful way I've ever met a pretty girl, but I'll take it." His voice is deep and raspy in a way that makes the colony of butterflies in my stomach intensify with each syllable he utters. When I don't immediately respond, his grin widens into a blinding smile, and the dimples in his cheeks pop. He extends his hand toward me. "I'm Grant."

I glance down at his hand for a beat before slowly sliding my palm into his, shaking it. "Addie… And I'm so sorry that I almost killed you. Seriously, so sorry. Also, um, you have… something in your hair."

Reaching up, he drags a hand over his hair and plucks out the leaves before chuckling. "Thanks. I'll forgive you, Addie. On one condition."

"Okay, and what condition is that?" I say, arching my eyebrow in question. "I obviously can't leave here without your forgiveness. Almost killing someone is a very serious offense, so forgiveness is the very least I could hope for."

The deep blue of his eyes sparkles with amusement. "Agreed. So, yeah, I'm gonna need you to stay out here with me and save me from going back in there. If I have to go back into that party, I might really kick the bucket."

When my palm begins to feel clammy, I realize that it's still clasped in his. I tug it free and reach up to tuck my hair behind my ear. A nervous habit.

The pit of my stomach currently feels like there's a marching band inside of it, a steady flurry that makes my head feel light at the idea that this ridiculously hot guy wants me to stay here and keep him company.

This is turning out to be the most bizarre, possibly most interesting night of my life.

Even though I was looking for a way to escape, alone, I'm too curious to turn him down, so I drag my gaze to his with feigned confidence. "Okay. I accept your condition. And I'm sorry… again. I feel absolutely terrible. Are you sure you're okay?"

My eyes roam over his handsome face, pausing along his high, angular cheekbones down to the sharpest jawline, one that could rival that of a sculpture sitting in a museum somewhere, to his pillowy lips that make me wonder if they are as soft as they look.

A wave of embarrassment rushes through me when I realize that I've been openly staring, and I quickly avert my gaze to the grass beneath me.

If he realizes that I've been checking him out, he doesn't call attention to it.

"Yeah, I'm good. Don't feel bad. I should've paid attention to my surroundings instead of almost whipping my di—" He pauses, catching himself. "Sorry. I should've been paying attention, but really, I'm good. I do have one question though."

"Okay…" I trail off, waiting for him to ask the question as I move to sit crisscross on the grass next to him, smoothing my skirt over my knees and pulling my thick, yellow knitted cardigan tighter around me. Even though it's still August, there's an unusual chill in the air.

He plucks a blade of grass between his fingers as he speaks. "Why are you out here?"

The million-dollar question.

"That's… complicated."

It isn't really, but I also don't want to admit to him that I'm only here because I've got approximately zero friends and that Amos had to stage a mini intervention to get me out of my room. Or that part of the reason that I'm here in the first place is somewhat of a last hoorah before my life changes… drastically.

In a way that I have absolutely no control over unless, somehow, a miracle happens.

His brow arches. "Is it really though?"

Laughing, I shrug, my eyes sliding to his. "I made a promise that I'd attend tonight's party, but… not that I would participate in said party. It's just… I'm not really a party girl? Or a people person, really. And truthfully? There's an overpowering stench of sweaty socks and cheap liquor inside that I couldn't handle for a second longer."

"Yeah, that's fair." The deep rumble of his laugh settles around us. "How about another truth?"

Hiding my smile, I chew on the corner of my lip and nod. "Sure. But only if you give me one first. Why did you need saving?"

Grant lifts his hand and rakes his fingers through his hair, a sliver of hesitation ghosting over his face before his easygoing smirk replaces it. "I think I'm just… tired . I spend so much time feeling like I'm playing a part in someone else's life. You ever feel like you could just walk away from it all and not miss it even for a minute?"

"Yeah, I do." More than he probably could even imagine.

"Anyway, I just needed to get out of there. Get some air. You know… possibly be offed by a gorgeous girl wearing Mary Janes and a cardigan in the middle of August."

That has my gaze whipping to his and my cheeks catching fire.

He winks when he catches my furious blush under the pale moonlight. He's so effortlessly charming that it should be a crime. While my stomach is doing somersaults, he's the epitome of calm and collected. Which is slightly funny, seeing as how he just fell face-first into a bush.

"It's… unusually chilly tonight," I respond in defense.

"Oh? Should we go inside, then?"

I blanch, my nose wrinkling in distaste. "Absolutely not. You'll have to drag my cold, dead body back into that place."

His laugh echoes around us when he tosses his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat. "I like you, Addie with the Mary Janes. How come I've never seen you around before?"

Probably because guys like him don't notice girls like me . The pitiful, invisible wallflowers who are exceptional at blending in and never being seen or heard. I'm self-aware enough to know that.

Instead of the truth, I shrug. "Not a party girl, remember? Outside of class, I don't do much besides work. I'm the cliché quiet, studious loner girl. Maybe our paths have just never crossed."

A brief pause hangs in the air before he speaks.

"I would've remembered a girl like you. Something tells me you're not very easy to forget," he murmurs, a reverent look shining in the depths of his blue eyes.

I can't explain the strange sensation of familiarity that tugs in my gut as our gazes lock, but it feels like even though we've just met tonight… that I know him somehow. That sounds crazy, even to me, but still, the feeling remains.

"You're ridiculously charming," I laugh as I shake my head. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

He nods, grinning proudly. "Maybe once or twice. Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly beautiful?"

"Well, I me—" My words are cut off by my phone alarm sounding in the pocket of my cardigan.

Crap.

The clock has struck midnight, and my time is up.

I scramble off the ground as I fish the phone from my pocket, glancing down at the glowing screen showing the time.

Grant follows me to his feet, asking, "Where are you going?"

"Um, I have to go home. I'm so sorry. It was nice to meet you." I fumble to shove my phone back into my pocket as I quickly walk toward the stairs. He follows behind, calling out my name, but I don't slow my pace.

I spent the beginning of my night desperately wishing for midnight, and now, I find myself wishing for only a few more minutes with the stranger who made me smile. To hold on to this feeling for just a while longer. To pretend that this could be my life, even if only for a moment.

But I know that with midnight, reality comes rushing back. Girls like me don't get guys like Grant. The charming, confident, carefree guy with the playful smile and bedroom eyes.

There's no place for me in his world, and even if there was, my future is not my own. I don't think it ever was.

"Addie, wait …" he calls from behind me on the top step of the deck. I glance over my shoulder at him when I make it to the back door, my fingers closing over the handle tightly. "I need to see you again. Give me your number, socials, anything. Please?"

I smile wistfully. "We're all playing parts in lives that aren't our own, Grant. Thank you… for tonight. Good night."

With that, I quickly slide the door open and hurry back inside.

The clock struck midnight, and my carriage has officially turned back into a pumpkin.