Chapter One | Malia
I watch from the bleachers of Sunset High Erin Russell doing sit-ups as the coach yells at his athletes to count louder. So they do.
Forty-eight!
Forty-nine!
Fifty!
Without wasting time, they stand up and begin running around the football field. Even from afar and when surrounded by many other boys, my eyes easily catch him at the very front. His light-brown curls bouncing, sweat dripping from the tips into his grey tank top.
Finally, I look at the notebook resting above my lap and continue writing. As I concentrate on my work, times flies by.
I'm nearly done when I feel drops of sweat land on my shoulder. I glance up and come face to face with Erin.
He grins. "I was going to scare you."
"I noticed," I say, smiling.
His grin fades away as he leans down, locking his soft, salty lips with mine.
"Ready?" he asks after the kiss.
I nod, closing my notebook.
The ride home is quiet and soothing as his hand warmly shields mine. There are a few times when I can't help but stare at him. How can so much perfection give me affection? Never, in my entire life, did I believe that someone like him would notice someone like me.
The shy girl at the corner of the class.
Malia Hayes.
He notices me. "What are you lookin' at?"
I look away, watching the houses pass by in a blur. "You."
He brings my hand to his lips.
Minutes later, he parks outside my house, unlocking the doors of his truck.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean to his side for one last kiss before I get down. He gladly receives it.
But I want more.
I jump over and land on his lap, taking him by surprise. He places his firm hands on my waist, keeping me in place without separating our lips. I grind my body with his, expecting to feel something between my legs soon—but nothing happens.
I start sneaking my hand underneath his pants, but he quickly jerks away from my touch.
I glance at his grey, blue eyes. "What is wrong? Are my hands cold?"
He shakes his head. "Your parents might catch us."
I caress his cheek. "They won't."
"I don't want to hurt you," he says.
I smile, resting my forehead on his. "But I do want you to."
He sighs.
I throw my head backwards, removing my hands from his body. "Do you really like me?"
He tilts his head. "Of course I do."
"Then why haven't we..." I look down. "You know."
"There are other ways of showing love, Malia," he whispers, looking out the window.
I get off him and grab my things before opening the door.
"I love you," he reminds me, peeking through the passenger's door.
I nod. "So do I."
I wish I can say that again—but he won't hear me no more.
Unless, even after death, he hangs by my side to witness my days without him.
