After flying overseas to enroll in a prestigious boarding school, Blake Graham assumes that she can finally catch a break.
Instead, she encounters the boy who she fought with almost every day as a child.
After moving back to England, then over to...
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Something warm was on my leg.
That was my first thought as soon as I woke up. My second thought was that something warm was near my head. I could feel the heat radiating off of it. Curiosity got the best of me so I cracked open my eye.
What greeted me was a fast asleep Clark Ellington, who was breathing softly. His legs were tangled with mine and his arm was hiding under his pillow, near my face. He was so close that I could see every little detail of his face. The tiny scar near the corner of his mouth, surprisingly not inflicted by me. His little brother, Dean, had apparently thrown a sharp toy at Clark when they were toddlers. Near Clark's eyebrow was another tiny white sliver. Now that was me. I may or may not have scratched him accidentally while fighting him. Not really fighting, but more or less wrestling. We were wild eight year olds.
Other than those tiny mars on his impossibly flawless face, he had other distinguishable features. This boys skin was clearer than the waters in Bali. He had freckles dotting his cheeks, nose, and some on his forehead. His long dark eyelashes were sweeping his sharp cheekbones, and his jawline was very defined. It was like god took his sweet time to create the boy. His personality on the other hand...
His hair, which was usually carefully styled and swept up, was sitting on his forehead. All messy and so un-Clark-like. Every time he exhaled a few of the longer strands would blow away from his face, ultimately coming back to land and repeat the cycle.
He was a very silent sleeper, breathing softly and not a single snore. I'm pretty sure I snored, or at least sleep talked.
As I continued to curiously observe my childhood 'nemesis', my phone began to vibrate on the side table. Being careful not to wake up the bitchy boy, I got up and grabbed my phone before leaving the bedroom. Of course, it was from my fathers office.
"Hello?" I answered after accepting the call.
"Blakely." My father's familiar monotone voice greeted me.
"Yes?"
"I'm minutes away from calling up the Ambrose's."
My eyes immediately widened, "Shit- wait no I mean shoot! No, I forgot to tell you! It completely slipped my mind! Clark agreed! Please don't call the Ambrose's!"
My father audibly sighed, I could just imagine him looking at the phone receiver exasperatedly. "So Clark agreed?"
"Yeah, he said yes. So he'll escort me." I rushed out.
"Okay." He stated simply.
"Okay? What does that even mean?" I asked incredulously.
