Renata Santos doesn't expect her heart to flutter when she catches a boy stealing flowers out of her backyard. But as she unravels his reputation, she realizes puppy-eyed delinquent Isaac Marshall may just be the sunshine she needs to turn her life...
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M A R J O R A M
[origanum majorana] ➳ blush.
IT WAS 7:09 A.M. I bolted upright, feet hitting the cool carpet and fingers fumbling for the light switch.
My breathing slowed as I unwound the horror coiled in my stomach, remnants of a nightmare I was quick to forget. That sound, that biting pang against the glass — it could've been a bird, the wind, or a fallen hanger in my closet. It could've been destruction laying its claim.
Instead, it was a boy in my backyard hurtling rocks at my window. When I saw him standing on the grass, blue jeans coloured by the overcast sky, I lifted the glass.
It was a moment before my heart stilled its frantic pitter-patter, and another while I breathed in fresh air. I waited for Isaac to defend himself, but he just shrugged his shoulders, blasé.
Dawn left stark shadows in the creases of his white shirt, giving it an orange glow. "What are you doing here?" I asked finally, removing the bug screen so I could lean over the windowsill. "I thought you weren't going to steal from me anymore."
"I'm not here to steal," he retorted. "That's only every other day, remember?"
I did remember. The fact that Isaac Marshall "only" visited his dog's grave every other day had occupied my thoughts all night. I screwed my eyes shut, then opened them again, certain he was a mirage. But the sunrise cast a halo over his russet hair, as real as the tingling in my skin.
I scowled, still in disbelief. "Why are you really here? Some people need their beauty sleep."
"Not you," he said, and I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious. He noticed but pretended not to, tossing a pebble up and down — probably the one he'd crashed into my window earlier. "Do you wanna hang out?"
Since my earlier tactic had backfired, I read off the clock. "It is literally 7:11 a.m."
"Perfect," he said, squinting as his lips pulled into a grin. "I've been craving a Slurpee all morning."
"Do they even sell those this early?" I asked before I could stop myself. Immediately regretting the question, I backtracked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with a shiver. "I have to get ready for school."
"I can wait." Isaac folded his arms over his chest, reminding me of the way he had nursed his stolen flowers the morning we first met. "How long is that gonna take?"
"Forever," I deadpanned, and he scoffed. "Maybe ten minutes?"
It was actually fourteen minutes later that I descended the stairs, bitter about my sleepless eye circles. Dad's briefcase was missing from the living room, and Mom had yet to return from work, so I slung my backpack over my shoulder and pulled my skateboard out of the garage, setting it down on the driveway.
