He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
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*ALTHEA'S POV*
October 21, 2016.
11.59 am. I stared at the brushes that stood as hands on the palette clock on the pale wall, my heart beating each split second like a prisoner about to get beheaded.
"Are you sure there's another student coming?" The Queen of Hearts asked—sorry, Mrs. Hearts, though the glare she was bestowing me with under her thin eyebrows was worthy of her nickname, and if at first, seeing the skinny and austere woman with her white straight hair, I doubted the resemblance, now that I was starting to lose my head, I got it.
"Yes, yes." Well, it was what the email I'd received last night stated, and I'd re-read it enough times to know the art club had met all the requirements and could be effective from today at midday sharp. "He or she must be running late."
"He or she? Do you even know who is the other student?"
"Um... no, I don't think so, but it's probably someone who's read the ad in the newspaper."
I offered her a small smile, also reminding myself I had to thank Troy for his help if I made it out alive because even though I'd talked to some people in the past two weeks, none of them had shown interest in the art club, and as Mrs. Hearts' gaze sharpened, making her head look bigger, I couldn't blame them.
Who could be crazy enough to come here willingly?
"Well, 'he or she' should know I don't tolerate lateness, and if they don't show up in the next ten seconds, I—"
"No need to call for the guillotine, I'm here!"
Just as the paintbrush reached the 12 on the clock, a tall figure skidded by the open door, an entrance as grand as the lopsided grin that went with it.
"Asher?!" Mrs. Hearts' gasp echoed the shout I kept inside, and I wasn't sure to whom he replied as his green eyes found my wide ones.
"The one and only to serve you."
"You've mistaken. The gymnasium is on the other wing, Mr. Rohan." Mrs. Hearts lifted her pointy chin to his blue and white tank top and shorts, which clashed with the American Gothic reproduction on the wall behind.
Though his sweaty muscles could have fitted among Greek sculptures, and the twinkle in his gaze was as captivating as the Mona Lisa's.
"I know. I'm coming from there, and I didn't change, so I could be on time." He shrugged, not waiting for her approval as he walked past the daggers her eyes were throwing at him to find a seat.
