Buried secrets, two girls with the same face, and a boy who loved too much.
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When Travis and Nicole meet on a bus for the first time, he thinks she's his ex, Rachel, who broke his heart two years ago. But he doesn't understand why she's pretendin...
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MONDAY ROLLED AROUND QUICKLY, AS if the weekend was just a blink of an eye.
I'd successfully gone radio silent on my three best friends the whole weekend, but there was no escape anymore. I was bound to face them at school today.
The thought had me groaning a little.
I resisted the super strong urge to throw my alarm against the wall when it went off.
It wasn't because I had any form of pity for the device, but my mom would kill me if I broke an alarm in this house again.
Sighing, I rolled off my bed and fell on the floor with a satisfying thud.
What a great start to a day.
With gentle care, I made sure I didn't look the way I felt. Miserable. The warm water as I showered was soothing, and when I was out of the bathroom, I carefully applied light makeup to hide the dark circles underneath my eyes.
I didn't know how I would be able to face Dylan today without murdering him, and the mere thought of having to see him had me wanting to skip school and stay in my precious bed.
But for how long was I going to do this? I couldn't skip the whole of my senior year, so with forced determination, I got ready.
Dressed in my uniform of a white shirt, blue plaid skirt with a matching tie, and blue blazer, I picked up my backpack and phone and jogged down the stairs, checking my notifications on the way.
My friends had bombarded my phone with messages, calls, and voicemails, demanding I tell them about my date and abort the radio silence I was in.
I postponed my troubles once more and ignored them.
The smell of my mother's freshly brewed coffee wafted through my nostrils, along with the sweet scent of freshly baked muffins that made my mouth water.
Cooking was her second love, her first love being her job as a nurse. Her undying passion for cooking made my fear of food an ironic combination.
Within this dismal weekend, I hadn't eaten any proper meal. The growl of my stomach was a testament to that.
"Hey, Nicole." My mom kissed my cheek quickly when I entered the kitchen. She held two muffin-packed trays in both hands. I took one from her.
"Hi, Mom."
"How was your night?"
"Fine, Mom."
"Someone's grumpy," Vanessa, my older sister, teased as she picked a muffin.
"Nessa." My voice carried a little tinge of warning. I set the tray on the dining table, careful not to trip into my mom, who was hurrying back to the kitchen.
