Renna Rose Lancaster never searched for love.
She stumbled into it long before she was old enough to know what to call it.
It lived inside flower crowns that barely survived a minute on his head. Pebbles he slipped into her pockets because every tre...
♪♪ Look how she lights up the sky Ma Belle Evangeline So far above me, yet I Know her heart belongs to only me
Je t'adore, Je t'aime Evangeline You're my queen of the night So still So bright
That someone as beautiful as she Could love someone like me Love always finds a way it's true! And I love you, Evangeline
Ooh, love is beautiful Love is wonderful! Love is everything, do you agree? Mais oui! Look how she lights up the sky I love you, Evangeline ♪♪
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Some nights start loud—but not in volume.
In heat. In clutter. In laughter that doesn't match the heart rate. In the thrum of bass that seeps into your ribs even before you hear the music. In someone else's joy that you're trying your hardest not to resent.
The kitchen was glowing with that gross yellow LED light that made everything feel like a greasy diner, and the noise was a hum, no—more like a roar with no direction. Bottles were clinking, someone had already dropped a packet of crisps on the floor, and Freya's voice cut through it all every few seconds like a damn referee whistle.
I didn't know how many people were actually invited tonight, but the house looked as if someone opened a Tinder group chat and told everyone to show up.
Isla was sitting on the granite counter next to me, her foot practically digging into my thigh, half a strawberry daiquiri in her grip.
Ailsa—yeah, Freya's carbon copy of a twin except with a louder voice and a tan that screamed my boyfriend's in America and I'm not subtle about it-sat cross-legged on the island, all deranged, breathless energy like she was about to board a rocket ship instead of a flight to Boston.
"I swear, when I got the email," Ailsa said, tossing her hair, "I thought it was spam. But no, it was UMass. They finally had a spot for me. And I was just sitting there in the library losing my mind."
"Your mind's been gone since secondary school, Ails," Freya deadpanned.
"Thanks, twin," Ailsa threw back without missing a beat. "Bet you'll miss me when you're drowning in NHS protocols while I'm out brunching in Back Bay with med bros named Blake."
"Is that where the rich people pretend they don't pay taxes?" Isla asked.
Ailsa giggled. "Leo says it's posh in a New England kind of way. Cold, expensive, but vibey."
