Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Giving her space, I step aside so she can slide into the driver’s seat, gripping the top of the door.
Her sigh is long and dramatic, before her gaze flickers up at me. There’s something sharp in her eyes, something unsaid lingering between us like an open tab neither of us wants to close.
I close her door and she starts the engine, rolling down her window so I can say, "Drive safe, Nova."
Her brows knit together. Lips part like she’s about to say something—but then she snaps her mouth shut.
I see it.
That irritation in her eyes. The quick inhale, the way her fingers tighten around the edge of her car door as if…
Is she pissed I’m not going to kiss her?
Nova exhales sharply, tilting her head like she’s re-evaluating me in real time. "That’s it? Drive safe?"
She sounds so disgruntled. "That’s it."
Her nostrils flare, and for a second, I think she might actually back out of the parking stall and leave me standing there, but she clicks her tongue and yanks her seatbelt across her chest with a little more force than necessary.
I lean down, resting my forearm against the roof of her car. "You seem frustrated, Montagalo."
She glares at me. "I’m not."
“Did I do something to upset you?” My voice is teasing. Knowing.
Nova scoffs. “No.”
“No?” I echo, tilting my head, watching her.
She exhales, shifting in her seat, fingers still gripping the wheel like she’s debating whether to say more.
I knock my knuckles against the roof of her car, feigning deep thought. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted something else.”
Her lips press into a thin line.
“Something like…” I grin. “Oh, I don’t know. A kis—”
“Don’t,” she cuts me off. “Do not.”
I straighten, taking a slow step back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, Montagalo.”
Nova exhales through her nose, clearly at war with herself, and I can tell—I know—that if I leaned in…if I reached for her, she’d meet me halfway.
But I don’t.
Instead, I lift my hand in a lazy wave. “G’night, Nova.”
Her fingers tighten around the wheel. “Good night.” The words are clipped, like she’s forcing herself to say them.
I watch as she shifts into gear, backing out with more precision than necessary, her movements stiff, controlled. I watch as her taillights glow red, then disappear around the corner.
Then I shake my head, smirking to myself.
Yup. She’s pissed.
And the best part? She’s not pissed at me.
She’s pissed at herself…
For wanting me in the first place.
5
nova
“Why do you seem so agitated?” My brother’s voice comes out of nowhere, interrupting my thoughts. “I thought you would want to hang. Don’t you miss this face?”
He’s right.
I did want to hang out.
Did.
Past tense.
It sure would be nice if I could get Luca off my brain long enough to be in the moment.
He plucks a puck-shaped coaster from the table and tosses it in the air, catching it without looking. “You’re chewing your thumb again. You only do that when you’re stressed or thinking about something you shouldn’t be.”
I jerk my hand away from my mouth. Busted.
“I’m fine,” I lie, curling my legs under me on the opposite couch. “Just tired.”
Now would be the perfect time to drop a hint about your date last night. He doesn’t need to know who it was with, but maybe…
No.
It’s too soon for that. The date was nothing—not even a kiss was had. Spilling my guts about it would only make the fact that I hid it, worse.
“You wanna order food?” Gio asks, prattling on. “I’m starving. We could do tacos. Or sliders? I could eat out of the trash, I’m so hungry.
“Sure.” Whatever.
“Then we can talk about the reason you dyed your hair, eh?”
We might butt heads constantly, but underneath the chirps and the chaos, he’s still my brother. Still the guy who used to walk me home from middle school with his hockey stick slung over one shoulder like a knight with a sword. Still the guy who tried to fight my eighth-grade boyfriend for kissing me on the school’s tennis courts during a football game.
“Excuse me?” I knew he was going to ask about my hair. Obviously—it’s a drastic change and everyone is commenting on it.
What makes me think my twin wouldn’t?
Gio grins, pointing his phone at the QR code on our table and orders food while he roasts me. “You only make changes when you’re bored—or freaked out about something. You got bangs after Dylan ghosted you sophomore year. Switched majors after that one professor called you out in class for sleeping through most of it. And now you go from blonde to brown? It’s sus.”
I run a hand through the newly dark strands, trying to act casual. “It’s called reinvention.”
His hands go in the air. “Hey. I didn’t say I hated it—I’m just asking if there’s a reason.”
“I just wanted a change,” I say, tone breezy even though my pulse is sprinting.