Summer Grayson, a dancer with one goal and no time for distractions.
Trevor St. Claire, a hockey player from the rival school with a distracting smile.
BOOK ONE
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SUMMER SEPTEMBER
"Come on, please, Summer!" Ellie groans from my doorway. I'm still laying in bed working on my essay, trying to ignore her pleas to go out with her tonight.
My eyes don't move from my laptop, "I have to finish this essay, and I have to be at work at eight am tomorrow!"
"Summer!" she whines, coming up over to the edge of my bed.
We've been friends since freshman year when we were paired together at cheer camp. But she's only going to college because her parents are making her get a degree. She's the definition of rich kid from Beverly Hills, blonde, blue eyes, perfectly tanned skin, literally Gigi Hadid 2.0. But she's as sweet as candy and more caring than anyone else I've met since moving to this city. She can be a bit pushy, but she means well.
Me on the other hand? I'm here on a cheer scholarship, I work a part time job at a coffee shop near campus, while still keeping up with my classes and our crazy practice schedule. Ellie is the only reason I have any sort of social life.
"It's in the Hills, it's gonna be fun!" Ellie says as if it'll appeal to me anymore. Somehow this girl knows anyone who's anyone in this town, last week she casually sprung on me that she was going to dinner with Nessa Barrett. So knowing that this party is in The Hills aka The Hollywood Hills, means there's gonna be celebrities on some level there, which is kind of intriguing.
I stop typing which makes Ellie smile, "Be ready in an hour!" She kisses my cheek and excitedly bounces out of my room.
"I didn't say I was going!" I call after her.
"You are!" I can hear the smile in her tone. I roll my eyes and keep working on my essay.
And some how an hour and half later we're walking the long drive way up to some sparkling white three-story house. The music is already loud enough to make its way to us.
"Who's place is this again?" I ask following Ellie.
"Tucker, his dad own's that chain of restaurants, Lemonade," she says this as if the most common thing ever.
"They have amazing mac and cheese," I comment as we finally reach the door, the music sounds like there's a sound system everywhere.
"A few times in high school Tuck would bring us some for lunch," Ellie puts her hand on the door handle, "If you want to leave just find me."
And I know she means it, she's loves to party but never wants to make me or anyone uncomfortable. One time freshman year we were at a party for only five minutes because I told her I wanted to go home. I had told her to stay but she insisted that she was ready to go too.
