The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

Another time, I thought as pure contentment washed over me. And it will be perfect.

Miller cleaned himself up and then stretched out beside me again with a tired laugh. “Good?”

“Good? I had an out-of-body experience.”

“I think that’s what’s supposed to happen.”

“It was,” I said, smiling softly and brushing a lock of hair off his brow. “It was exactly what was supposed to happen.”

And he knew it.

He kissed me softly. “I gotta go. You gotta go. We’ll be late for school. I don’t actually give a shit, but you have a stellar citizenship record to maintain.”

“I don’t want you to go.” I curled up into the sheets. “I’m having my first orgasm afterglow. I want to sleep for days. With you.”

He grinned. “Me too. But I got to get home to eat and take my insulin, or I’ll have an entirely different kind of out-of-body experience.”

“Jesus, Miller, don’t say that.”

“Sorry, bad joke. I’ve been hanging out with Ronan and Holden for too long.” He got up and drew his jeans on, then leaned over the bed to kiss me again, slow and deep. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Vi.”

And then he left the same way he came in, through the window.

I watched him go, then flopped back against my pillow. A laugh burst out of me that morphed into a full body shiver. Miller’s touch lingered over every part of me, especially the juncture between my legs where I could still feel the low ebb of the wave that had crashed over me.

But it was my heart that was singing the loudest.

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

So said Miller Stratton in the same twenty-four hours that a record exec from a major label wanted to meet with him. Then he’d slipped out of my room like a prince in a fairytale.

I couldn’t stop smiling until reality creeped cold fingers into my sleepy warmth. This princess was going to the ball with someone else, while her prince rode off into a Los Angeles sunset.

And if all went as it should, he wouldn’t come back.

At school that day, I made it to lunch break without seeing Shiloh. I wasn’t feeling hungry, so I wandered the campus alone, my popularity stock clearly having taken a nosedive since #HomecomingFail. Caitlin and Julia only ever waved at me from afar these days, both looking cowardly and sheepish, as if the matter of being my friend or not was out of their hands. No doubt Evelyn’s handiwork.

Miller had texted, saying he was cutting school to stay home with his mom in case Chet came back drunk and belligerent. I was on my own.

I sent Shiloh a text. Where are you?

The reply came a few minutes later as I followed the path down toward the gym.

Home. Bibi isn’t feeling well.

My heart clenched. Shiloh’s grandma was pushing eighty and mostly confined to a wheelchair. Is she ok?

I think so. Going to stay home to make sure. A pause, then another text. I heard Miller’s news!! Followed by the “mind blown” emoji.

I’m so proud of him. I’d wandered down to the bleachers, perhaps drawn by my hormones after this morning. And OMG we need some girl talk, STAT.

I was about to hit send on that text when the phone nearly fell out of my hand. Holden Parish emerged from the make-out spot, and River Whitmore followed after.

They both wore dark, almost angry expressions and looked as if they’d been fighting but had called a reluctant truce. Holden smoothed the lapels of his coat and ran a hand through his mussed silvery hair. River jerked the collar of his letterman jacket into place and tucked in his shirt.

They immediately started for separate directions, but their nervous, darting glances landed on me at the same time.

Holden turned his steps in my direction, tipped an imaginary hat to me. “Lady Violet,” he said as he passed. He wore a tight smile on his lips that were red and chafed. He smelled of River’s cologne.