When the notebook containing their deepest, darkest secrets is stolen, two former best friends must unite, despite crushing on the same heart-stopping boy.
*****
Best friends, Al...
I've never told anyone this but do you know why I'm obsessive about lists and organization? It's because the last time I ever saw my mom she gave me a notebook and told me to plan for my dreams. It's stupid, but somehow, I feel closer to her when I plan. Ridiculous, right? Sometimes I imagine running into her and showing her my planner. The crazy part is I don't know whether I want to rub it in her face that I made it this far without her, or ask if she's proud of me. Do you think she would be proud of me? Wait, don't answer that. I don't care. I don't care. I DON'T CARE. -Georgie aka Alexx
PS. Do you think if you say something enough, it'll come true?
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As Hugo hovered over her, Alex fought back the tears threatening to erupt. Part of her wanted to run to her room and hide under the covers. It was her default mode. But another part, a secret part she didn't even know existed, wanted to melt into his arms and let it all out.
His hand went under her chin, and he gently lifted her head. She could feel her chin wobble as she tried to suppress the emotion bubbling to the surface.
His eyes lost their hard glint, and he whispered in a soft, but cajoling tone, "Alex. What's wrong? Who upset you?"
A lump of tangled words caught in her throat. Would he pat her on the head and think her silly for being upset over a mere assistant job?
Hugo looked over his shoulder, his stance protective. "Did one of the guys say something to you? Or one of the girls?"
She shook her head and sniffed. "No, no. Nothing like that."
He reached for her hand, the one with the blood, and brought it between them. "It's clearly something."
As the adrenaline seeped out of her, the sting of her open wound began to grow. Hugo saw her grimace and blew on her knuckles. The rush of air felt so good, her lids fluttered shut, and she let out a small sound of relief.
Hugo chuckled. "Better?"
She nodded, still keeping her eyes closed. "The best."
"Hold still," he said. Alex tried not to squirm as he moved and prodded her knuckles. "Doesn't look deep. Only a surface wound."
"Doesn't feel like a surface wound," she grumbled. The cut felt like it went to the bone. Or more accurately, to the heart.
"Maybe put some force behind your punch next time if you want it deeper."
Her lids flew open to find him bent over her hand. This close she could see freckles dusting the top of his cheeks and nose. "How did you know I punched something?" she asked.
"I'm a guy with two brothers. I've seen my fair share of bloody knuckles." He glanced behind her. "The tree?" he guessed.
She nodded. "I was pissed." And hurt. And sad. And frustrated.
