Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Within the family, we had no secrets. Our lives were intertwined, and the darkness that came with our way of life was something we all shared. Accepted. Had been born into. But for ten years, I’ve had one thing that was mine. Something I kept to myself. A source of light when things got heavy. The nerdy, overlooked tutor from high school who had been a breath of fresh air while helping me pass British Literature was someone I hadn’t let go of. Sure, it had been ten years since we’d seen each other, but that wasn’t important. Our texting was what I needed. Her wittiness had the ability to make me laugh and lighten my mood with her comebacks. She had never tried to impress me or flirt. It was the strongest relationship I’d ever had with a female, but it was also platonic, which was why it lasted. Noa Raines was my calm in the storms of life, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.
Noa
When faced with a situation you weren’t expecting and have no idea how to navigate, one normally asks for advice from someone they trust. Typically, I’d text out my problem to my texting pen pal and ask him what to do. Except this time, my issue was with him. In the flesh, in front of me, glaring at me like he’d rather lick the bottom of his shoe than speak to me. I had no logical reason why he should dislike me on sight. He didn’t recognize me, that I knew. The name he’d been given was my pen name. One I had actually chosen because of him. Ironic that he’d made a snarky comment about it.
How was the man sitting across from me the same one I’d talked to almost daily for ten years? This man was cruel, rude, and although he was still mouthwatering, I didn’t like him. And he didn’t deserve to know who I was now. I’d walk out of here keeping that to myself. The next time he texted, he’d go unanswered. If he wanted to treat others so harshly, then I’d return the favor.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Noa
The Past-Age Sixteen
The smell of wood, combined with a slight mustiness and a twinge of smoke, enveloped me. It was my absolute favorite scent in the world. I inhaled deeply, letting it seep in and remind me that this was all I needed to be complete. Friends were drama—or at least, it appeared that way. I didn’t have much experience, unless you counted Becca Walters in the sixth grade, who had shown up midyear. She’d been quirky, talked nonstop, and liked to ask me about whatever book I was reading at the time. Her father was in the military, and she’d moved that summer, leaving me once again the loner. Except for Becca, my friends had always been found in the pages of the stories I read.
I picked up the next returned book in the pile that I had been tasked with placing back on the shelves of the library at the high school I attended; it gave me a sense of purpose. I might not cheer on the sidelines for the football team or march across the field at halftime with an instrument, and I might not perform onstage with the theater department, but I had this. I volunteered every day in the library during my study hall and after school. Except on Thursdays, when I tutored whatever student Ms. Richie—the head of the Literature department—had assigned to me.
“I believe you’re who I’m looking for.”
A deep voice jerked me from my thoughts.
I spun around, confused by the close proximity. It was as if he’d been speaking to me. Which was unlikely since no guys ever spoke to me—at least on purpose.
Jeremy Tucker had bumped into me yesterday and said, “Excuse you.”
The air in my lungs felt as if it had seized when my eyes collided with a pair as golden as he was. I’d heard him speak before, but never up close. The warm tingle that raced through me from the sound still radiated as I stood there silent. Frozen. And awkward. Always awkward.
“Noa Raines?” He said my name like a question, his brows drawing together.
I nodded. I couldn’t do more. Nothing seemed to be working correctly. My ability to speak had vanished with my ability to inhale much-needed oxygen.
A crooked grin curled his lips, as if he knew the effect he had on me and it amused him. My face heated from the embarrassment. This might be the one time in my life that Ransom Carver spoke to me, and I was managing to humiliate myself. It was quite possibly going to go down as my biggest regret. The one that kept me up at night as I relived it in horror.
“You are Noa Raines?” he asked.
I nodded again. Still no words.
Speak, Noa. Stop acting like an idiot.
“Well, Noa, seems I’m in need of your help if I’m going to pass British Literature. I’ve been informed that you’re the translator I require to understand what the fuck Shakespeare is saying.”
He needed a tutor. Of course. Life made sense again. Air filled my lungs, the world stopped spinning on its axis, and I was back on solid ground. I should have guessed that this was the reason he had been looking for me the moment I realized the husky timbre belonged to him.
“Is it Hamlet or Macbeth that is giving you difficulty?” I asked, relieved that my voice hadn’t cracked or hitched. My heart was still racing even if my head had caught up with what was happening here.
He smirked. “Romeo and Juliet.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t get to choose which of his works that you wanted to analyze and review? I mean, I’m assuming you’re taking British Literature with Ms. Richie. She always lets you choose.”
I knew that seniors were tasked with choosing one of Shakespeare’s works every October and doing a complete literary analysis and review. I was only a junior, but I’d been helping seniors delve into Shakespeare and understand his writing since my freshman year. Because of this, I also knew that the student got to choose their own Shakespeare piece—or they had in the past.
Ransom Carver picking Romeo and Juliet was the equivalent of the entire football team showing up in pink leotards and tutus tomorrow and performing Swan Lake on the stage in the theater. And I wasn’t exaggerating. I was serious. The swagger with the edge of danger that came off Ransom was in the form of massive, powerful waves.
“I’m feeling a bit judged,” he drawled.
I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again before blurting out, “You just don’t seem like the Romeo and Juliet type. I mean, it’s a tragic romance, and normally, it’s girls who choose that one. It’s only ever been females that I helped with it, but I’m, uh—I was, uh—what I mean is that maybe you didn’t know what it was about.” I decided to stop with my rambling as I stared at him. Not zoning in on the slight cleft in his chin or that ridiculously chiseled jaw of his was hard, but I managed. For the most part.