1

Mariah

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A few days later...

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“RYAH, HURRY UP!” MY brother Zach calls me from downstairs. “What the hell are you still doing up there?”

“I’m looking for my apron!” I ruffle through my drawers for effect, hoping it’ll throw off the fact that I literally just woke up ten seconds ago.

“You woke up late again, didn’t you?”

“Nope! Not at all!” I rush to the bathroom, pulling on a pair of jeans and reach for my toothbrush. “Be down in five minutes!”

I splash water onto my face and stare at my reflection in utter disbelief. My skin is pale, my hair is frizzed beyond repair, and there are large bags under both my eyes.

I can literally pass for a zombie right now ...

I tie on my bright pink Dawson’s apron and rush downstairs, finding myself face to face with a brooding Zach. His eyes are narrowed and he’s looking at me like I’m a four-year-old in trouble.

“Ryah,” he says in a voice that reminds me of the way our Dad used to scold me. “If you’re going to ask me to take you somewhere at a certain time — a certain early-ass time, don’t you think you should be ready at whatever certain time you begged for?”

“Asking for a ride to mom’s bakery isn’t really that big of a deal ...”

“It is, if I say it is.”

I give him a blank stare. It’s six in the morning and my usual snarkiness isn’t ready to go this early.

“If this happens again,” he says, “you’ll have to ask your friend Kelsey to wake up this early and take you.”

“What? Kelsey doesn’t even have a car.”

“Exactly.” He gives me that “Try me” look that our dad used to give, and for a moment, I have to remember that he’s only two years older than me. It just has always felt like ten.

He walks over to the kitchen counter and hands me a waffle and a bottle of orange juice. “I made you breakfast. Let’s go.”

I take the food from him and follow him outside to his car. Like the overly protective big brother he is, he asks me about my plans for the week as he drives, as if part of his life is to keep up with my every move.

“Knowledge Bowl practice at five on Thursday, right?” he asks as we approach a red light.

“Yes, and on Friday.”

“Okay. I should be able to pick you up after. If not, I’ll just ask Liam to do it.”

I bite down on my waffle hard to prevent myself from saying anything sarcastic. I’ll save my thoughts on his dumping me on Liam for later.

“Anywhere you need me to take you this weekend?” He looks over at me.

“Just the mall. You’ll need to pick up Kelsey, too.”

“Sounds good.” He shrugs, his typical “okay” response, and for the rest of the drive, we ride with slow rock music playing on the radio, with the breathtaking scenery of a morning in Blue Harbor coming alive outside our windows.

We used to joke about basically living in a place that is the perfect postcard — bright blue lakes that stretch for miles, lush evergreen trees that line all the main roads, and brightly coated buildings that appear to be more like cottages than businesses, but we’ve adjusted to it now.

The only thing we haven’t adjusted to is life without our father. And although I doubt we ever will, we try to make the most of it by helping our mom out as much as we can at the town’s number one bakery. At the one thing that keeps my mom going every day.

“Remember,” Zach says, as he pulls into the bakery’s parking lot, “next time, be ready on time, or —”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I get out and shut his car door before he can finish, and he flips up his middle finger with a smile before driving away.

I let myself into the shop and my mom immediately appears behind the glass counter.

“You can start riding with me, if you want, on the days you’re assigned to work, Mariah.” She smiles. “We do live in the same house, last time I checked.”

“Except you wake up at three in the morning so you can get here at three thirty.” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fair enough.” She tosses a bag of flour toward me and I barely catch it. “I need three batches of buttercream cupcake batter, three batches of peanut butter brownie batter, and three batches of lemon cream-sicle batter within the next couple of hours.”

Before I can insist on making four batches, since those are the most popular weekend flavors, the bell above the door sounds and I turn around.

Kelsey?

“Thank you so much for allowing me to work with you this morning, Mrs. Dawson,” she says, smiling as she flips her black hair over her shoulder. “I truly, truly appreciate it.”

“No, thank you for coming to help on such short notice, Kelsey.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Dawson.”

My pleasure? I give Kelsey a ‘Who the hell are you right now?’ look.

“Up early and ready to work with a positive attitude?” My mother looks between the two of us. “I definitely think Mariah can learn a thing or two from you. Fast.” She winks at me and motions for us to get to work.

Kelsey follows me to the prep room in the back and I double-check the hallway — making sure my mom is out of earshot.

“Okay, you’ve got five minutes to tell me what you’ve done with my best friend and get the hell out of her body. Right now.”

She laughs. “Okay, okay, okay. The football team is moving their morning workouts from the stadium to one of the trails today.”

“No, really.” I sigh, confused as to what the football team has to do with her ‘girl next door’ behavior. “Please step out of my best friend’s body.”

“The trail is right across the street from the bakery, Mariah! You and I will have front row seats to the six-pack sexiness that is Ryan Winston.” She puts her hand over her heart. “Only the sight of him sweating would get me out of bed and on the town bus to work on a Saturday.”

“Now you sound like yourself.” I toss her a mixing bowl. “I’ll head over with you for a little while after we’re done. Nine batches shouldn’t take more than a few hours or so.”

She gives me a thumbs up and retreats to the opposite side of the counter for measuring, while I prepare my side for mixing. Even though Kelsey would deny it in a heartbeat, she loves coming to Dawson’s and helping me during my shifts. She always says, “The quicker you’re done, the quicker we can go out! Plus, I get paid. Duh!” That, and since Kelsey is an only child and a bit of a rebel, she’s always been kind of like a twin sister to me.

In fact, we like and love almost all of the same things and our hatred for popular kids, petty rumors, and asshole athletes is pretty much on the same wavelength. (Actually, she likes the asshole athletes a tad bit more than me.)

It takes a little over three hours for us to finish, and when we’re done, we make a few more batches of the popular flavors before my mom can ask.

When ten o’clock rolls around, Kelsey takes off her apron and stretches her arms.

“It’s break time! Let’s go take a walk and get a look at the football team.”

I shake my head and untie my apron, heading up to the front of the store. There’s a line of customers, as usual, and my mom’s full-time staff is working as fast as they can.

“We prepped fifteen batches for you guys,” I say to the lead cashier. “We’ll be back in thirty to do more.”

She nods and gives her attention to the next customer in line.

Kelsey and I slip out into the warm weather and walk across the street to the grey pebbled trail that connects Blue Harbor to Green Cove. We take a seat on one of the bright red park benches as the football team begins a round of pushups.

“What exactly do you see in Ryan Winston?” I ask. “I mean, sure he’s cute, but he’s a douchebag.”

“You think every popular guy is a douchebag.” She rolls her eyes. “What’s not to like, though? Dark hair, dreamy green eyes, amazing abs, and he actually knows how to carry a conversation with a girl.”

“The only thing I’ve ever heard him say to a girl is, ‘Hey, I’m Ryan Winston. I think you’re hot. Go out with me’.”

“Downright swoon-worthy.” Kelsey smiles, practically salivating as she stares at him. “Speaking of popular douchebags, though....” She leans back and points to a car that’s making its way down the other side of the trail. A car I know all too well.

Ugh, Liam ...

I watch as he parks his car near the edge of the border and steps out. He walks over to the passenger side of the car, presumably to help Ashley step out, but she doesn’t.

She’s not even there.

Instead, Liam grabs his backpack and a notebook and heads down to the dock. He takes off his shoes — like we once did together, years ago, letting his feet hang over the ledge and touch the top of the lake’s water. Then he suddenly looks up at Kelsey and me.

He tilts his head to the side and I can tell that usual cocky smile is spreading across his face.

He waves and I throw him the middle finger.

Laughing, he looks down at his notebook and starts doing his work.

“You don’t think there’s ever a chance that the two of you could be friends again?” Kelsey asks.

“Depends,” I say. “Would you give him a chance, if you were in my shoes?”

She pauses for a while. “Hell no.”

“Exactly.” I look over at him. “It’s bad enough that I’ll have to be his critique partner for the next two semesters, but I don’t need or want to be his friend. Besides, he’s in love with Ashley Jordan. That alone automatically disqualifies everything we used to have in common.”

“Very true.” Kelsey laughs and stands from the bench. She steals a few more glances at Ryan Winston and pulls me to my feet. “Mark my words though, bestie. This year, you are going to finally date someone or get a boyfriend and we’re going to start working on that right after this shift is over.”

I nod and pretend to agree, but unless the guys in question are exactly like the gentlemen I’ve read about in my period novels, I want nothing to do with them.

I refuse to get my hopes up again ...