Prologue
~ Lovers : Anna of the North ~
If there's one thing they don't tell you about going to a Catholic private school, it's how good everyone looks in a tie.
I'm serious. Plaid skirts, navy blazers, and untied shoelaces scuffing the polished floors of Saint Augustine's Academy for the Young and Gifted (I swear, that's its actual name) might sound stuffy, but trust me, you've never seen rebellion until you've seen a boy smuggle a Nirvana T-shirt under a plain white dress shirt. The most rebellious thing I've seen besides that, is Austin Hayes wearing a workout shirt to school!
Don't even get me started on Austin Hayes.
Not that I look. Much. Or ever.
Because for as long as I've known Austin, the literal golden boy of Saint Augustine's, quarterback, shortstop, certified heir to Hayes International and future billionaire. I've been allergic to his existence. He's my twin brother Nico's best friend. He's the reason half the girls in this school wear lip gloss during gym class. And he's insufferable. Full offense.
And this is minor, we're currently pretending to be dating.
Long story.
"You're staring again, Lina," Aleena whispers, smirking as she tears open a sugar packet and dumps it into her iced coffee. We're sitting at my family's café, Flores & Co., the kind of place that smells like cinnamon and always has soft music playing. The after-school crowd is trickling in, uniforms half-off, blazers draped over chairs. The window light hits everything warm and gold.
I snap my head away from where Austin stands by the counter, one elbow leaned against the marble like he owns gravity. He's laughing at something my brother said, head thrown back, and I swear the sun hits his stupid perfect face like God's personal spotlight.
"I wasn't staring," I mumble, stabbing my straw into my iced chai with unnecessary violence. "I was glaring. Entirely different."
Aleena raises an eyebrow. "Mhm. Totally."
I take a dramatic sip. "Anyway, shouldn't we be talking about, like, the fencing tournament? Or Gracie Abrams' new song? Not Austin freaking Hayes."
"You brought him up," she sings, and I groan, slumping in my chair.
Life was simpler before this week. Before I accidentally got roped into pretending to date my brother's best friend because his dad was threatening to send him to boarding school in Switzerland, and apparently my good Catholic girl reputation™ was his get-out-of-exile card. All I had to do was be seen holding hands a few times, smile at the right people, and not murder him in public. Easy.
Except for the part where Austin Hayes drives me clinically insane.
And maybe the part where his cologne smells like cedarwood and late-night mistakes.
The bell above the café door jingles for more people coming in. Then I see Nico walking up to my table and he drops into the seat next to me, stealing a fry off my plate. "You look grumpy."
"I am grumpy."
"I can tell. You get this little crease between your eyebrows," he says, poking it. I swat him away.
"You're both annoying," I mutter.
"Not as annoying as your boyfriend," he teases.
I shove a fry into his mouth. "Fake boyfriend."
"You two looked real cozy at Mass this morning," Aleena adds with a grin.
I blush. Catholic school Mass hits differently when you're sitting next to someone you're contractually obligated to flirt with. Austin had nudged my knee during Our Father and smirked like it was a game. The worst part? I smiled back. Like what the freak is wrong with me?! ITS CHURCH!
It's not my fault. I'm a romance novel girl. I listen to Linger on repeat and cry during old movies. I believe in stupid things like fate and longing glances and love letters. But Austin Hayes is not a love letter. He's graffiti on a church wall, messy and sharp and somehow still beautiful.
"I can't believe I agreed to this," I grumble.
"You're doing great," Nico says, ruffling my hair.
"I hate you."
He grins. "Love you too."
The thing is... if anyone else at Saint Augustine's found out about this arrangement, it would be social suicide. I like my life the way it is. I've got my fencing team, my books, my weird indie playlists, my café shifts, and my quiet crush on fictional characters like James Kent Anderson or Wes Bennett. I don't need Austin Hayes and his crooked smile ruining my carefully balanced world.
Except... maybe I kind of like it. The way he looks at me like I'm not just Nico's twin. The way the butterflies riot in my stomach when his fingers brush mine. The way it feels like some movie scene where the audience is screaming at the screen because everyone knows what's coming but the characters don't.
And maybe I'm terrified I'll fall for him.
Because the biggest lie of all would be pretending I haven't already started to. Which I have.my café shifts, and my quiet crush on fictional characters like James Kent Anderson or Wes Bennett. I don't need Austin Hayes and his crooked smile ruining my carefully balanced world.
Except... maybe I kind of like it. The way he looks at me like I'm not just Nico's twin. The way the butterflies riot in my stomach when his fingers brush mine. The way it feels like some movie scene where the audience is screaming at the screen because everyone knows what's coming but the characters don't.
And maybe I'm terrified I'll fall for him.
Because the biggest lie of all would be pretending I haven't already started to. Which I have.
