Chapter 1
SKYLAR
The Psychology of Blushing :
Blushing is a defense mechanism, a response we developed to help avoid a potential fight-or-flight confrontation
I have been in love with Austin Harris since I was seven.
It started at a yearly Christmas Party, something so insignificant that many would say isn't a good enough basis for an eleven year crush, but something that changed my life forever. I was seven when I was pushed under the mistletoe by my older brother and the starry eyed boy with brown hair kissed me full on the lips.
My older brother Jackson had told me so many times before that my infatuation with Austin would pass when I found someone better suited for me, but it never did. Not at fourteen when we were in the back of his truck staring at the stars, not at sixteen when I'd been the one to kiss him at a drive-in movie, and not now at eighteen when I haven't seen him in over a year.
Despite the loss of contact, I could remember him distinctly. In fact, I could even imagine him now. I would come home and he'd be sitting on the front lawn, his hands intertwined, placed neatly on his legs. His posture would be as stiff as that of the pine tree which he used to climb with me when we were children.
His hair would be curly and messy as it always was when he didn't have his hat on, and he'd look at me like I was the most perfect girl he'd ever seen. I imagine my face would resemble that of a rose - pure, beautiful, and perfect.
The harsh rays of the sun startle me awake and I groan, kicking at my headboard hopelessly.
"Jackson, no." I whined.
"It's ten. It's time to get up and start the day. Your dreams aren't going to get you anywhere." My older step-brother says matter-of-factly. He'd clearly just gotten back from a morning surf, judging by the sand covering him.
I wanted to argue, wanted to say 'Actually, my dreams will get me everywhere' but it'd be pointless so I decided to put my pillow to my face and yell into it.
Jackson rolls his eyes. "You're so dramatic."
"You're so dramatic." I imitate under my breath..
"I heard that!" Jackson called out as he left my room.
"Yeah, I hope you did!" I call back. My eyes kept threatening to fall closed though so I began to scratch at them. It was a meaningless attempt at waking myself up. As I always did, I fell dramatically back onto my tower of pillows and patted my cheeks.
I slowly turned to look at the clock but was instead met with the sun shining on my face. California was humid and warm every season of the year, something a Connecticut native like myself hated. I missed the cold, the winter snow that fell to the ground of my grandparents cabin. More than anything, I missed the ice that froze over the lake and watching as white fluff fell onto the sandy beaches. I know people say that snow on the beach is a strange phenomenon and a broken thing, but just because something is broken doesn't mean it can't be beautiful.
I tapped my fingers anxiously against my bed as my eyes drifted from the clock to the Yale sign against my door. Yale had been my dream since I was seven and despite being accepted two months ago, I still couldn't process it was really happening. All the things I've been working for, for years are finally coming together. The Ivy Bound pin, pinned to the sign, reminds that this is real. Ivy Bound was a summer program started by a Harvard Alum, twenty years ago, to help the newly accepted students of Ivy's learn the ins and outs of the schools.
Now, I know you're probably thinking, how is this going to work with Austin? Well, Austin Harris has been dreaming of Dartmouth since he was eight. I was seven that year, and when he told me of his dreams to attend a school called Dartmouth on the East Coast, I quickly named the only university I could think of — Yale. Since then, Yale has been the school I've seen in my dreams.
Plus, it was only a three hour drive to my literal soulmate.
I looked over at my window when I heard the sounds of a car pulling up into our driveway. I got up and walked towards the window to look when I saw a familiar red pickup truck. The small scratch on the side of the car was so familiar and so far away at the same time. Austin Harris was home. A few minutes pass before I'm able to process what I'm seeing. When it clicks, I take a deep inhale and begin to get ready.
An hour later, I wander down the stairs, a noticeable skip in my steps. My hair is curled to perfection, my makeup is minimal but good for the occasion, and my dress is white with blue flowers peppered on it. I pretend not to notice Austin at first, my eyes focused everywhere but his stupidly beautiful face.
"Well, hello there, darlin'. It's been awhile." His brown eyes lock on my blue ones and it's almost as if nothing has changed. Well, besides one thing.
My breath hitches.
It actually hitches.
Austin had called me darlin' since we were thirteen when he said I looked like a darlin' princess in my dress for the Spring Formal Dance. I always insisted I hated the nickname but how could I really hate it? It was flirty and adorable and it encapsulated my essence perfectly. With a nickname like that, how could I not be convinced he knew me better than anyone else? Well, sometimes, I still think he does.
"Hey, Azzie." I put my arms out for a hug to distract from the blush creeping onto my cheeks. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same to him. Our first hug in over a year is everything I hoped it'd be.
"Are we still on that?" He says, shaking his head that's leaning against my shoulder.
I giggle into his shoulder and shrug. "Hm . . . yes. Yes, we are."
Austin pulls away from the hug, and rolls his eyes playfully. His hair is fluffy, well, it was always fluffy but it was extra fluffy today. Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled off his hat and placed it on my own head. His hair is messy, hat hair. I found myself liking his hat hair.
"Now, what do you think you're doing'?" Austin shook his head as he spoke, his southern accent popping out more than ever.
"Yeehaw!" I replied, parading around the room with his hat. I moved my hand in a circular movement as if I were wrangling a herd of horses. Everyone in the room erupts into laughter at my awful impression of southerners.
"Howdy partner!" I say, skipping around Austin. He's obviously trying to hide the smile that's forcing it's way onto his face.
"Oh no, ya don't!" Austin grabs me by the waist and pulls me towards him.
I gulp. We're so close that I can see his pupils dilating, presumably realizing what he'd just done. The dilation doesn't last long though, and he recovers, grabbing his hat from my head. He puts it back on his own and winks at me.
"Thank you, darlin'."
"Y-yeah, of course." My reply comes out small and quiet, just like how I feel. He hasn't stepped back yet. I don't know why but he hasn't.
He's smiling at me, that all too familiar cheeky smile. The one he gave me after he kissed me at that Christmas Party, the one he gave me that night under the stars, and the one he gave me that night at the drive-in movie.
And despite what I want to do, I can only think one thing.
Oh, I'm in trouble.
