Edge of seventeen

Chapter 1

Elliot's Pov

Elliot Everett Adler. Yeah, that's my name. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? If you ask my parents, they'd tell you it sounds like a future senator or CEO. They've got a lot of expectations for me—most of them involving the church, straight A's, and absolutely no funny business. But here's the thing: I'm seventeen, I'm hot as hell, and life isn't as black and white as they'd like it to be.

Let's get this out of the way: I'm a blonde. Not the fake kind you see on Instagram, but the real deal. The kind of blonde that catches sunlight and makes people look twice. And yeah, I've got these brown eyes that I guess are supposed to make me look trustworthy or something. Trust me, they've gotten me out of more than one tight spot.

On the surface, I'm the perfect son. Straight A student, varsity soccer player, and a regular at Sunday service—hell, my dad's the priest, so I kind of have to be. My mom? She's a teacher at St. Mary's, the most holier-than-thou place you could imagine. If there's a God, he probably wishes he could take a day off from hearing their prayers.

But here's what my parents don't know: their perfect little son is living a double life. They think I'm upstairs studying or sleeping, but I'm really up until 2 AM thinking about shit I can't say out loud. Like how I've got a crush on Asher Rhodes Carson, the guy who's probably the biggest thorn in my side. He's got this cocky grin, dark hair, and eyes that scream trouble. And yeah, he's a basketball player, which means we're constantly competing for the spotlight. It's infuriating—and, fuck me, it's kind of hot.

I know what you're thinking: Why don't I just tell my parents to fuck off and live my life? Well, here's the catch. My dad's not just any priest—he's the priest. The kind of guy who fasts regularly and prays before everything. We're talking before meals, before leaving the house, before going to bed—hell, probably before taking a piss if he could manage it. And my mom? She's the one who taught me to keep my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself. In our house, you're either perfect or you're praying for forgiveness. There's no in-between.

So, I don't swear in front of them. I don't argue, I don't talk back, and I sure as hell don't talk about my feelings. Instead, I play my role—smile when they tell me to, pray when they tell me to, and never let them see that underneath it all, I'm a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

But you can't stay hidden forever. That's something I've been learning the hard way. Every time I see Asher's stupid, handsome face, every time we clash in the halls, I feel something building up inside me. It's a mix of anger, fear, and something else I'm still too scared to name. And yeah, I know I'm playing a dangerous game, but there's a part of me that's done caring.

So here's the truth: I'm seventeen, I'm confused as hell, and I'm falling for the one guy I'm supposed to hate. The one person who, if my parents ever found out about, would make their heads spin and their holy water boil.

But for now, it's my secret. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that secrets have a way of coming out when you least expect them.