Amelia's POV The weeks that follow that night at the party are different. I can't put my finger on what changed but I know I've stopped hating being around Miguel. Not that I truly hated it in the beginning. To my eternal dismay.We haven't spoken much since that night, our conversations still centered around him teasing me seven ways to Sunday and my squirmy and exasperated sarcastic responses but we've fallen into a rhythm. I leave a glass of mango juice on the table for him every morning by the time he comes down and he doesn't smoke in the car. He walks me to my locker before going about his business. Whoever gets to the cafeteria first helps the other get their lunch. We sit beside each other in the classes we share. If I'm his babysitter, he is my shadow. Except when he is charming the pants off the entire female population and I've made Bianca swear to never give me the details. I'm not sure anyone has noticed Miguel the way I have and while it's disturbing, it has shed some
Amelia's POV"Now is not the time for a lecture about my habits, Mia." He turns to face me, his eyebrows raised as he blows out smoke into the air. My eyes widened. Had I said it out loud?"I'm not here to lecture you. I just–" I sigh. Why is it hard to just comfort him like I would if it were Bianca or my mum? Why does it feel like my throat is closing up too?"Go somewhere with me." I blurt and when he raises his eyebrows, I palm my face. "You don't have to make me feel better about shit, Mia. It's none of your concern." "Just shut up and come with me, alright?" Fishing for the keys from the bag in my hand, I turn around and head for my car, entering and slamming the driver's seat shut. The couple of minutes it takes for him to get in the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt feels like hours but I use it to send a text to mum that we are heading out for a bit. That way, it would be a lot harder to jump out of the car, bolt to my room and ask myself what the hell I'm doing.
Amelia's POV"How many more of my secrets have you told Miguel?" I ask Bianca as we walk towards Geography class. My best friend has the nerve to act clueless for a minute before she pouts like she hasn't been dodging the question for three days. I roll my eyes and increase my stride. "Amy, I promise it's only that one about the crush–" I turn and slam my free hand over her lips and she realizes why I have an alarmed look on my face. "You want to tell the whole world now, is that it?" I whisper and she raises her hands in mock surrender, mumbling words against my hand. When I remove my hand, she lets out a dramatic breath and looks apologetic "Sorry." She whisper-yells. "You can't even whisper to save your life. " I reply and swivel to continue our walk to class. She picks up her pace to match mine. "Don't be mad at me, Mimi." She says, hooking her arm around mine and wearing a smirk because she knows I can't stand being called the name of the large teddy bear that she cuddles
Amelia's POV"Can anyone tell me why Mr Sanchez isn't in class today?" Mrs Irvine says and when she pins me with her stare, I take back my forgiveness. "Where is your brother, Miss Hart?"You should ask teensvogue or Google, Mrs Irvine.And it's stepbrother. Step. Why do people always forget the step?I open my mouth to tell the lie.You can't lie for shit, Mia. He has diabetes, Mrs Irvine."He's unavailable, Mrs Irvine."Everyone in the class laughs. Even Bianca. Traitor."I can see that, Miss Hart."So can I, Mrs Irvine.When she sees that I'm not going to give her any more answers, she narrows her eyes at me and continues with her pairing list.Amy 1, Mrs Irvine 0."You should add learning how to lie to that bucket list. Right between skipping class and failing a test." Bianca whispers, chuckling when I glare at her.I'm making a mental list of how to get her back when someone kicks my table and when I turn, the girl passes me a note.Hey partner,Exchange numbers after class?p.s
Amelia's POVI barge into Miguel's room just before dinner "Teach me how to be wanton." "The one day that I don't have lunch with you and hell freezes over." "I said teach me how to—" The remaining words die in my throat when I take in his state of undress. The white towel rides dangerously low on his waist, his hands working another towel over his wet locks. My eyes trace the outline of his lean body like a vulture eyeing it's next meal, my gaze settling on his abs where drops of water trickle down the pecs and the outline of a tattoo disappears down the towel.Look away, Amelia. Look away. I can't. When my gaze finally moves away from his abs to look at his face, I don't see the Miguel that I'm used to. The cocky unashamed taunting Miguel. The Miguel that would have said something absolutely lewd and revelled in the fact that I'm gawking at him in a way that a sister should never look at a brother. He's looking at me like he likes my eyes on him. Like it's absolutely okay for
Amelia's POV"I am definitely not doing any of those things on that list, Miguel." I say for the hundredth time as I drive to Maria's. Today is Miguel's first day as a waiter and I'm not going to miss it for the world. It should surprise me how excited I am about watching him work and that my excitement has nothing to do with watching him fall flat on his face but everything to do with supporting my friend on his first day. Quite ironic that I'd rather call him friend than stepbrother. Christian had called to meet up about our Geography assignment and I'd picked Maria's as our meeting place. Watching Miguel work and talking to Christian at the same time? My stone definitely lucked out. Two big attractive birds. I'd called Bianca but she was going on a movie date with Adam, even though she refused to call it a date. "You're the one who spent the last twenty four hours reminding me of how serious you were about becoming a bad girl. And now that the list is here, you don't want it?
Amelia's POVBeeMiles: You should've seen his face when I said you were sick and couldn't make it. Me: Who?BeeMiles: Girl, did you hit your head? Christian Grammer, that's who?Me: Oh. BeeMiles: Yes, oh. And Angel says you're lying about being sick. I believe him. Me: You can tell him to shut up. Now stop texting me, I'm at Spanish class with my mum.BeeMiles: Hey, how did you get well enough to get dressed for Spanish class? You were lying about being sick. Me: 🙄🙄BeeMiles: Why did you lie? Is this about the wanton list?Me: Why should it be about that?"BeeMiles: You've been dodging your coach and I since we made that list, that's why. Why the hell would you pass up a chance to show Christian Grammer your banging body when he personally invited you?Me: Because! Look, there'll be other chances, okay?BeeMiles: I take my question back. You did hit your head. And oh, Angel says to tell you that he'll rib you in about your secret Spanish classes. Me: Is he seeing this chat?Bee
Amelia's POVMy mother parks in front of the store and unstraps her seatbelt "Well, that depends."I roll my eyes because I know my mother. She's about to strike a deal with me."I'm putting together a small dinner party for Emilio in a few weeks. I want you to make sure Angel is on his best behavior at the party. I promise to make sure Emilio plays nice too. If you can promise me that, we have a deal."Asking Miguel Angel to be on his best behavior has more often resulted in him doing the opposite but I can see that my mum believes that I have some kind of hold on her stepson, even though I don't understand where she got that idea."Fine." I agree.She beams at me and opens her door"I'll get you a bike too so he doesn't suspect anything."I follow her into the store "And make sure to give it to him when I'm not there.""Deal."*************************"So, you're not talking to Adam. Again. What happened this time?" I try to keep the judgement out of my voice but from the glare B
Amelia"And here to deliver the valediction for the graduating class of 2019, Amelia Rose Hart, everyone." I don't look at my mother or my stepfather or my best friend or the applauding crowd that have gathered to celebrate all the graduating students, I look at the stage as I slowly advance towards it. And I remember the last time I saw anyone giving a speech on a stage was at prom. My ex boyfriend. Because yes, we did have a relationship contrary to what our parents think. Miguel Angel Sanchez. It seems like just yesterday when our love story started and ended. After he left that night, I'd spent the remainder of the days before graduation on Bianca's bed. My mother couldn't have moved me no matter how hard she tried. There was nothing to threaten me with. Especially when she knew I'd be leaving to go to New York in a month. Yes, Bianca and I got accepted to study at Columbia University just like we'd hoped we would. My mother didn't even bother about talking me into going to
AmeliaHave you ever heard that saying that warns you to look over your shoulder when things are going too smoothly for you?No? Me neither. Right now, I'm frozen in place by the door. Too forward?Okay. After Miguel's beautiful speech, we danced some more and Jane cornered me right before we left, her words cryptic and a smug grin on her face. I'd been so happy about the events of the night to pay her any mind even though now looking back, I should have. The good girl of Evergreen High, whatever will mummy say? "How dare you come here and do this?" Emilio roars and I flinch and shrink into the ground, even though he's not referring to me but the son he's currently holding by the neck. My mother is observing the scene with terror but riding on the back of that terror is disappointment. She's standing inches away from where I'm crouched on the ground."Let me go, Dad." Miguel breathes and that seems to be the sentence that sets Emilio off because he rears back and punches his s
Amelia"You know it's not because you're a jock, right?" I whisper and Christian nods, even though his face tells me that he doesn't quite believe me. The song ends and another starts, signalling that it's time to switch partners. We stop dancing and Christian places a kiss on the side of my mouth. "Till we meet again, fair maiden" He whispers to my still form and moves away to another partner. Slowly shaking my head with a smile, I turn around to find a new partner and cue the hammering heart and dancing butterflies. Miguel is standing in front of me. And that's when I finally hear the song playing. My song. Our song. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. My lips part as our bodies meet and I grip his shoulders to steady myself as we begin to move"I'm still mad at you." He whispers, pulling me even closer "No, not mad. I could never be mad at you. Frustrated, perhaps." He rests his forehead against mine "But I wanted to dance with you. To your song. Our song.
Amelia’s POV"Is this the wrong time to tell you that everybody has been staring since you walked into this hall?" I turn away my attention from where Miguel is standing and talking to Pamela Bradshaw–who seems to be smiling at everything he says even though he doesn't look like he's trying to charm her– to my best friend. She hands me a drink and when I raise my eyebrows "There's definitely no alcohol in this place. There are teachers everywhere in this hall to make sure of it."When I still raise my eyebrows, she snickers and whispers in my ear "Okay, Blake and the others might have smuggled some in, but this is purely punch. I promise.""Thank you." I tell her and collect the cup, taking a tentative sip before nodding"What's that about people staring? Is there something in my hair?" She shakes her head "You look like a princess. And of course, you arrived in the arms of a prince" Her face softens and she whispers "How are things between you two?" I shrug, ignoring the weight th
Amelia’s POVI can hear two voices at the base of the stairs as I take tentative steps towards it. "And what's your excuse, young man for not having a date to prom? I mean, look at you. I'm sure you have your fair share of ladies vying for your attention." My mother. And if she's talking to who I think she is...My heart skids to a halt. Please come to prom. Please. Saying no to you is an exercise in effort, Mia. He's going to prom. And we're going to be in the same car and not able to say anything because of his dad's driver. But he's going. I'll find a way to end this silence between us. Because I can't afford to go another night without talking to him. I pause when I hear his reply"I don't have a date because the one person that I want to go with doesn't feel the same way."Oh, I feel the same way. My mother gasps "Some girl in this world is immune to your charms? This is a revelation."He snickers and I suck in a breath as I make my presence known. The second their head
Amelia"Ooh, yeah, you lose, Miles, pay up ASAP." Miguel yells with a fist bump in the air and I look away from the novel I'm reading on my phone to see Bianca rolling her eyes and dropping a bill in his hand. "A rematch, Angel. I demand a rematch." She whines and I roll my eyes because Bianca hates losing and Miguel is even worse so we're going to be here for a long while. I should get very comfortable then. The duo dragged me to the arcade about an hour ago and have been at it like animals. This is the first time I've been able to go with them because I've been busy with the decathlon–which we won by the way in flying colours and got me the gold neckpiece I'm wearing from Miguel– and I can honestly say that I want nothing more than my bed right now. "And you're done. Again. Pay up, Bianca." "I demand a rematch."Oh my God, is this ever going to end?"You're on, Miles."Gahhhhhhhhhhh, this is never going to end. "So, Mimi–" Bianca calls without looking at me "–what time are we
Amelia’s POV"It's beautiful" I gasp as I look at the Miguel's arm with awe. We're at a tattoo parlour in Denver and Miguel just finished getting a tattoo on the left side of his arm. Of a rose. I'd imagined it would be a horrifically painful experience the minute I saw the large needle, but as the tattoo artist got to work and I sat by Miguel, talking to him about anything and everything and holding his right hand, time had passed by really quick and it was done. Speaking of tattoos, I've gotten around to completing the wanton list or beginner's wanton list, according to my dearest best friend, Bianca. Skip school? Check. Get drunk? Check.Kiss a random guy? Christian Grammer, my former crush and now friend takes this one. Fail a test? Okay, I couldn't do this so it was scrapped. Get detention? To be fair, Miguel made me laugh in Mr Davis's, our boring History teacher's class and got detention with me. Bianca also got detention for clucking her tongue. It was a swell time. Go
Amelia"Are you good?" I ask Miguel as we lie on my bed, his head on my chest and my hand softly stroking his hair. I've had to lock my door more because he's been spending almost all of his nights in my room. Half of my closet has been cleared out because he forgets his clothes here and showers here, to my immense satisfaction. "Is it okay to be scared?"He murmurs, drawing circles absentmindedly on my exposed abdomen. Exams are starting tomorrow and he's been working even harder than I have towards it. He finally got around to telling Bianca and her reaction was as easy as she is. You'd think we told her the time. Since then, we've been working with Jennifer and the teachers whose subjects he's finding most difficult. He's had two panic attacks and I was by his side for each one. So I can understand his worry even though everything else has been smooth. He hasn't pushed me on the topic of telling our parents about us, but I know it's because he's been busy obsessing over the exa
Amelia’s POV Amelia ...the internet says seven because that's when I officially started learning how to paint but I knew when I was six. I wasn't good at school and I didn't talk much but for some reason.... ....Reading and writing is hard for some of us, not that you'll know anything about that.... ....He's in the counselor's office. You'll have to ask him. He sees her at least two or three times a week.... ....And yes, there are indeed things I am not good at. Like, school.... ....I'd like to think that in another life, I'd be good at it. And it wouldn't be so hard to like school.... ....Reading was difficult. Writing was worse.... ....She bought me crayons and said 'If you cannot read and write about the world, you can colour it'.... ....She read to me every night and suggested that I be homeschooled since the school environment wasn't working for me.... ....Something was wrong with me. Because why else would my parents not want me?.... ....It's not like you were ever goo