''Class is now in session.''

Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.

[ashboogiie]

TEENAGE DREAMS

A short story by Ashley Valentine.

1

The invitation sat on Trey Westbrook’s desk for a solid month, mixed with the junk mail and slick catalogs, before he opened the cream-colored envelope and withdrew the printed cardstock. He skimmed the top line: You’re invited to the five-year reunion of James Madison High School. Then he took a step to the right—

And dropped the envelope into the trash.

His cousin Riley stepped over and fished the paper out of the circular bin. “Hey, this is tonight. You’re not going to go?”

“It’s a reunion. For high school. I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather do.”

“So can most red-blooded American males,” Riley said, chuckling. He had the same curly hair and smooth caramel skin as the rest of the Westbrook men. In fact, when Trey and Riley were younger, they’d been confused for twins. Even as adults, the close resemblance remained between the cousins. “But weren’t you voted most popular, or most desirable, or something equally embarrassing?”

“Something like that.” He waved it off. “Anyway, it’s all ancient history.”

“All of it?” Riley arched a brow. “What about Amira Andrews?”

Even after all these years, the name still sent a shock wave rippling through Trey. He hadn’t seen Amira since their graduation day, though he’d thought about her once or twice. Okay, a hundred times. He could still remember exactly how she’d looked—black hair loose around her shoulders, shapely body swaying with each step—as she’d walked away from him.

That was how their relationship had ended. Tassles to the opposite side, caps tossed in the air, and then, just like that, Amira was gone. He’d thought they had their future mapped out—or at least the next four years of it—but Amira had thrown a detour into that road map. She’d left that day, not for their planned destination of college together in New York, but instead to California, to her father. She’d asked him to go with her, but at the idea of hospitals and doctors’ offices and instant responsibility, Trey had bailed.

He hadn’t even realized what that decision had cost him until it was too late.

But it was all for the best. He hadn’t been the kind of guy who settled down, planted a garden in the backyard and had the neighbors over for a barbecue on Labor Day. Even now, he lived his life unrestrained, free to come and go, whenever and wherever he wanted, though that lifestyle felt increasingly empty. And Amira, well, she was the kind of girl who made family ties into an art form.

Still, he felt guilty about how he had ended their relationship. If he had known then what he knew now, he’d have handled it differently.

“Me and Amira were over years ago,” Trey said. “Hell, I don’t even know where she is anymore.”

“According to this,” Riley dangled the invitation, “she’s heading the reunion committee. So you know where she’ll be tonight. You should go, at least to find out what happened to her.” He held out the cream-colored cardstock to his cousin.

Trey took the invitation. His gaze dropped to the bottom, to a list of familiar names, but only one leaped out at him, as if it had been printed in bold:

Amira Andrews

The other women on the committee had their pasts in parentheses: Michelle (Wilson) Klein, Heather (Sloan) Bertram. But Amira’s name was the same now as it had been five years ago. Did that mean she’d never married? Did she have a boyfriend? And why did he still care?

He laid the invitation on the desk. “Well, I’m still not interested.”

“Think of what you’ll be missing,” Riley said.

“Just a lot of people who probably haven’t changed much in five years,” Trey said.

He had changed, though, especially in the past couple of months. He’d become responsible—a fact that surprised even Trey sometimes. He’d probably still be the selfish commitment-phobe that he’d been in high school if it hadn’t been for his father’s accident. The crash was a culmination of a life of bad choices, and it had spurred a wake-up call for Trey. He’d realized that night that he needed a change, and, as if reading Trey’s mind, his grandmother contacted him the next day and offered him just that opportunity. Mary Westbrook had always been more of a mother to Trey than his own, and he found himself saying yes to a new job and a whole stack of responsibilities. All of a sudden, his days had been filled with purpose, something he hadn’t even realized he’d needed until he had it. Now, instead of looking for the next party, Trey looked for the next opportunity to expand Westbrook Media. “Maybe some people have changed.”

“Some sure did, cuz,” Riley said with a grin, giving Trey an easy slug in the shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got a date.” The grin widened into the kind of smile worn by a boy who had fallen for a girl. Over the past few weeks, Riley had done nothing but talk about Tanya, who worked at the Morning Glory diner in downtown Boston, and who had clearly stolen Riley’s heart.

After Riley left, Trey crossed to the window and looked out over busy Back Bay Street below his apartment. With Riley gone, the apartment seemed to echo, as if Trey alone wasn’t enough to fill the space. He stared awhile longer, watching the traffic pass, the people walk by, the dogs chase each other. Then the sun began to drop lower in the sky, washing the street with gold.

Trey turned away from the window to the desk. He reached for the invitation, intending to toss it once and for all. Then his thumb traced over the letters at the bottom, and his mind reached back five years ago into the past. To a pretty girl with a wide smile and soft eyes, to laughter that sounded like music and days when it seemed the sun could shine forever. Funny, he thought, how his memory colored everything with a pastel brush, when he knew the reality was far less colorful.

Amira Andrews.

He stood in his empty apartment while the traffic roared by outside and debated, turning the invitation over and over. Put the past behind him, or see if there was still a connection. And, maybe, a way to make amends…

2

Amira Andrews stood inside the ballroom doors, reviewing her list for the thousandth time. Decorations hung: check. Food on the buffet table: check. DJ in place: check.

The ballroom at the Marriott had been transformed into a blast from the past. Amira had hung faux bling around the room, tempered by black linens. She’d displayed rap posters and added oversize blowups of select photos from the yearbook, a visual collage of memories and greatest moments. There were shots of the choir singing at the annual music festival, the football team celebrating their victory at the state finals, couples dancing at prom. To Amira, those days seemed a thousand years in the past, but maybe that was just because she felt like she’d lived a thousand years in the past decade. Things were finally looking up, though, and so, for the first time in five years, Amira was making plans for her future.

“No wonder they made you the head of the committee,” Michelle said as she slipped into place beside Amira. The former cheerleader still had the trim figure of her youth, even after having two kids. She’d been one of Amira’s links back to life in Boston, and it had been nice to serve on the committee together and catch up with an old friend. “You are List Queen.”

Amira laughed. “I just like to be organized. I hate to forget anything.”

Michelle peeked over Amira’s shoulder at the clipboard in her hands. “‘Lemon slices for drinks. Extra toilet paper for restrooms. One carnation per vase.’ Okay, I think you need a twelve-step program.”

“It’s called making sure all the I’s are dotted and T’s are crossed. Nothing wrong with that.” Amira breathed easier with her lists and her check boxes. They gave her a sense of comfort, let her know she was on track. She’d always been like that, even back in high school. She was the one who never missed an assignment, never forgot an appointment.

“There is something wrong with it,” Michelle said, her brown eyes kind and soft, “if those I’s and T’s come at the expense of a personal life. How many hours did you spend planning this thing, anyway?”

“Enough to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.” Amira dropped her gaze to the list again. It was easier to do that than to contemplate the weekends and evenings she had spent on the reunion, shouldering most of the responsibility herself instead of letting other members of the committee do the job. She’d let those to-do lists fill the long nights between work and sleep, because it was easier than thinking about her life plan, or lack thereof. A lot easier.

“Hun, it’s okay to take the next leap, you know.”

Amira shrugged. “I know.”

The DJ cued up the first song, and pressed Play. Hits from their teen years began streaming through the sound system. Michelle gave Amira a one-armed hug. “Look at tonight as a do-over. A restart. You had to put your post–high school life on hold for five years. Pretend tonight is graduation all over again and you’re ready to go off on your big life adventure.”

Graduation. She remembered two things about that afternoon—the phone call that had changed Amira’s life, and Trey Westbrook. She’d gotten up that morning excited to start their life together in New York. Before the day was out, she’d said goodbye to Trey and hopped a plane to Cali. By the time things had settled with her father in California, Trey had left for college, and she’d told herself she was glad that they were over. It was better that way.

“Oh, my God. Look who just walked in.”

Amira followed Michelle’s gaze, and just like that, the bottom dropped out of her perfectly organized, checklisted world. Because Trey Westbrook had stepped into the ballroom. He stood in the doorway, tall, brown and even more handsome than she remembered, with that familiar lock of curly hair dusting across his forehead and the confident stance that said he was a man who was sure of his place in the world. He hadn’t RSVP'd—the pessimist in her had checked—and she hadn’t expected that he would attend, much less be one of the first to arrive.

“Remember, do-over,” Michelle whispered. Then she gave Amira a nudge in Trey’s direction.

Amira stumbled forward, but detoured for the punch bowl before she compounded her biggest mistake with another one. Trey Westbrook was part of the past, and he was going to stay there. She was finally moving forward, and falling for him again was not part of the plan.

3

She hadn’t changed a bit. Trey’s gaze zeroed in on Amira the second he walked into the room. He could have picked her out of a crowd of thousands, even after all these years. She still had the same long black hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, teasing along the zipper of her red satin dress. The same brown eyes, wide and luminous. The kind of eyes that stayed in a man’s mind. The same tall hourglass shape, made even taller by the strappy black heels she wore, which showed off killer legs and a bright red pedicure.

When he’d let her walk away all those years ago, he’d told himself it was the right decision. The last thing Trey had wanted as he threw off the shackles of high school was a committed relationship where he had to be dependable, grown up. He’d wanted nothing more that day than to get out of Boston, get to college and start living his life. That had been their plan—head for New York, spend their days going to classes and strolling Central Park. An easy, bohemian life with no ties to anything or anyone for at least four years.

Trey’s father had lectured him over and over again about being responsible, about settling down—then lived in complete opposition to his words. After the death of his wife, George Westbrook had spent the family money on one woman after another, one vacation after another, one house after another. That life of no responsibility caught up to him with the car accident. Yet even from the hospital George had been calling his girlfriends, making plans for another trip, another major purchase.

And up until that moment, Trey had been his father’s son to a T. Spending money, dating women, doing nothing of substance with his life. Then that day, when he’d sat by his father in the hospital, Trey had looked at his father, really looked at him, and finally seen a man who filled the empty spots in his existence with more emptiness.

That had been the turning point for Trey, the moment when the nights out at bars no longer held the same appeal. Maybe it was just the early hours and the long days Trey now spent working in an office. Or maybe it was…

Him growing up. And with that came the desire to make amends to the people he’d hurt with his selfishness…people like Amira.

“Hey, Trey, how are you?”

Trey turned at the sound of Malik’s voice. His partner in crime in high school, and a good friend for years. “Good. You?”

“Same as always.” Malik grinned and gave Trey a light jab. “I’m about to head to the bar and get this party started right. You want to come?”

Trey started to say yes, the answer coming like an automatic response, then changed his mind. “Nah. I’m good. I thought I’d circle the room. See who else is here.”

“Okay. You know where I’ll be.” Malik grinned, then walked over to the bar.

Trey bypassed the table of mementos, filled with old yearbooks, photos and trophies from their high-school glory days, detoured past the buffet table laid with steaming platters of appetizers, pausing only to say hello to old friends. He stopped in front of the punch bowl, telling himself it was just because he wanted a nonalcoholic drink, not because Amira was standing there, sipping from a plastic cup.

He opened his mouth to say hello. To start with the reason he was here—to offer an apology for being a jerk to her five years ago. Instead he said, “You look beautiful.”

Surprise flushed Amira’s face. “Thank you, Trey. You look very nice, too.”

“It’s been a long time,” he said, reaching for a cup of punch he didn’t want.

“Five years. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.”

“And sometimes it seems like a century ago.” He sipped at the punch—a tropical blend that slid smoothly down his throat. He hated the awkward bumpiness of small talk. But he couldn’t seem to find a way to bring the conversation around to the past. “Are you living in California still?”

“No. I’m in…transition.” She shrugged and a smile crossed her lips. “I’m staying at my aunt Bea’s house while I decide what to do next.” She stirred the swizzle stick in her drink. “What about you?”

“Working full-time in the family business. Haven’t moved too far from the old neighborhood.”

“And here I thought you were destined to become a beach bum.” She laughed, a light, musical sound. “Wasn’t that what you put in the yearbook?”

“I wasn’t exactly aiming high on the career ladder in senior year.” And up until recently, he hadn’t been much more than a glorified beach bum, except he lived far from the beach. “And did you do what you set out to do? Write the next great American novel?”

She glanced down, and the light mood evaporated. “No. I got busy and never really pursued that.”

So busy that he hadn’t heard from her since. He told himself he didn’t care why they’d lost touch. That he had been glad to have her expectations off his shoulders the day after graduation. That what had happened between them was in the past. She’d had a good reason for leaving, and he’d had good reasons for staying. Still, a part of him wondered, looking at her now, what would have happened if he’d said yes to her request. If he’d gotten on that plane and spent the past five years with Amira instead of staying in Boston, treading the same water over and over. He’d let her down when she’d needed him; guilt hit him again.

“Your father…?”

“Yeah, I had a lot going on,” she said.

She didn’t elaborate. The days when the two of them told each other everything were far in the past. Hell, she could have another man in her life now, though a quick glance at her bare left hand confirmed if she did, it wasn’t serious.

He wanted to ask about her family, her life, her years in California, but he sensed a wall between them. Maybe they hadn’t been as close as he’d thought in high school, or maybe she had moved on—and away—from everything in her past. Or maybe he had hurt her too much for her to want anything to do with him anymore. Across the room, Trey saw Malik holding up a glass filled with amber liquid. Malik gave Trey a wave and pointed at the empty stool beside him.

Trey returned his gaze to Amira. “Well…I should let you get back to doing whatever a reunion chair needs to do.”

He’d chickened out. Damn. But how did he get from “How are you” to “I was a jerk”? He started to move away when she put up a hand.

“Actually, there’s one thing I need to do.” She picked up a paper off the table, wrote something on it, then pressed it against his chest. Her hand was warm, and even through the cotton of his shirt, he could feel her touch, as if she’d branded him. His gaze met hers, capturing those bright brown eyes, looking wider, more luminous in the incandescent lighting of the ballroom chandeliers. He reached to cover her hand with his own, but hers had already dropped away.

“You, uh, forgot your name tag.” She gave him a sheepish smile.

The heat of her touch lingered, and opened doors he’d thought shut a long time ago, doors he hadn’t intended to open tonight. His mind rocketed back, flashing quick images of Amira in his arms, Amira touching him, Amira kissing him. She could have handed him the tag, but no, she’d put it on him herself. Why? Was there still something between them?

Or was he looking for a connection that didn’t exist?

“You think people forgot me?”

“No,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to the table. “I don’t think anyone forgot you, Trey. At all.”

Then she turned away, and headed for the other members of the committee. For someone so unforgettable, he felt very, very dismissed.

4

Amira busied herself with straightening the memory table, shifting pictures that didn’t need shifting and stacking yearbooks that didn’t need stacking. All the while, her heart beat a furious pace in her chest while the other couple hundred people in the room laughed and talked, unaware of the tension coiling in Amira’s gut.

Her hand lit on a picture of Trey from high school. The football captain, mugging for the camera after a victory. She’d snapped the image herself. The photo captured Trey’s infectious grin, his devil-may-care attitude and the spontaneous spirit he inspired in everyone around him. At the time, she’d seen him as the yin to her yang.

A mistake.

When she’d talked to him earlier tonight, she’d expected to prove to herself that their high school fling had been nothing more than a couple of teenagers thinking they knew what love was. But the minute her hand had touched his chest, she knew she’d been fooling herself. Even now, she could still feel the solid planes of his torso beneath her palm, see the surprise in his dark eyes. And feel the response in her own body.

She had missed him, more than she’d realized, and more than she’d expected.

Why had she touched him? She should have kept her hands to herself instead of opening herself to dangerous memories and desires. But knowing that didn’t make the urge to touch him again go away.

She turned and noticed him standing near the bar, talking to DeeDee Carter, one of the cheerleaders who had maintained both her figure and her perky attitude. A crowd of people surrounded them, the same kind of hangers-on that had always been attached to Trey, with his outgoing personality and capacity for entertainment. A flare of something Amira refused to call jealousy rose in her chest. She tapped the book spines into perfect alignment, but the action did nothing to soothe her, or prevent her gaze from sliding back to Trey and DeeDee. To him laughing at something she said, to the way she put a hand on his arm and gave him a smile.

What did Amira care? She had no ties to Trey. No claim to his heart. He could date—or marry—anyone he wanted.

Except he wasn’t married. She’d checked his ring finger. And cursed herself for being relieved.

He looked up, caught her watching him, and sent her a grin. She spun away, fast, to the pictures. The DJ shifted the music from a fast-paced Lil Wayne song to a ballad by Usher.

Amira’s heart stuttered. It had been their song, the one that summed up everything she’d ever felt about him, a song about holding on and letting go, and it sent a surge of memories through Amira. Of curving into Trey’s arm and letting the world disappear, of believing they could have it all, even as the very things she wanted were disappearing. A shiver chased down Amira’s back, and she knew before she even turned that Trey was there.

“That’s our song,” he said from behind her.

He remembered. That mattered more than she wanted to admit. She pivoted toward him and smiled. “I know.”

“Let’s dance, Amira.”

“I should—” She waved a vague hand at the neat, organized table.

“It’s just one dance,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, “not a lifetime commitment.”

So she took his hand and followed him out to the dance floor, and in that instant, she was eighteen again and looking toward a future that would never happen. To the days when the only thing on her agenda was going to college, pursuing that writing degree. The days before her father got cancer and called her, saying three simple words: I need you.

So she’d hopped on a plane, giving up everything for the chance to finally have a connection with her absent father. She’d foolishly believed Trey would come with her, or at least join her, but he never had. And she’d left him behind, along with her romantic teenage dreams.

But right now in Trey’s arms, her thoughts weren’t on the aftermath of their breakup, they were on those days before graduation, when this song had melted her heart and made her fall a little more for Trey each time she heard it. The others made room as Trey and Amira reached the floor. The raised brows and knowing grins told her people noticed the high-school sweethearts back together. Several people greeted Trey; his popularity hadn’t died over the years.

One dance, Amira vowed. One dance and she’d get Trey out of her system once and for all. But as he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, she realized it might take a lot longer than a single song to forget Trey Westbrook.

5

Trey hadn’t paused to think when the song had come on the sound system. He’d reacted. In the past, his impulsive nature had made for some bad choices, but as Amira stepped into his arms, he knew this time the choice had been a good one.

Her perfume in high school had been a flirty scent, something with baby powder and vanilla, but the perfume she wore now was all woman, with dark, sexy undertones and notes of jasmine. She moved easily with him as they made a small circle on the parquet floor, while the song washed over the space between them and brought him back to long, hot nights five years in the past.

“How have you been, Amira?” he asked, trying again to find a smooth transition to the real reason he’d come. “I’ve wondered about you a hundred times since high school.”

“I’ve been fine.” But she didn’t look at him when she said it, and a flush filled her cheeks, belying her words.

Marty Maxwell danced by with his wife, leaning over to give Trey a grin. “Look at you, here five minutes and already got a beautiful woman in your arms.”

“Hey, Marty. Good to see you.” The former receiver for the football team had already gained a beer belly in the past five years. “Still running the sports program over in Somerville?”

“You know it. And hey, if you ever want to come by, show the kids a few moves, I’d be glad to have you. Not often we get a star player coming by our field.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a call.”

He hadn’t touched a football in years, except for a few games of pick-up with his buddies after work. But the guys in this room still saw him as the captain of the team, the one who scored the points and the girls. Part of that was nice, but another part had Trey wondering if that was all anyone would ever see.

“Guess you still have that magic touch,” Amira said.

“Magic touch?”

“The one that makes people flock to you like pigeons to bread crumbs.”

He chuckled. “Am I the bread crumbs or the pigeon?”

She gave him a noncommittal smile.

“So, for five years, you’ve just been…fine? Nothing more to say?” He grinned, but inside, the brush-off answer bothered him.

“It’s a short song,” she said. “Too short for the full story.”

She had tensed in his arms, telling him the subject was off-limits. He missed those days by the creek, when Amira had been an open book. And he knew this distance was all his fault.

“We can keep on dancing,” he said. “The DJ’s here for four hours.”

She laughed. “I don’t think I can dance that long.”

“Then I’ll dance and you can stand on my feet. Just like old times.”

Amira mocked outrage. “I never stood on your feet.”

“You did too. The first time we danced together. You don’t remember that?”

“I remember prom. And the senior dance. And that terrible junior Christmas dance where everyone got food poisoning.”

“You don’t remember the Valentine’s Party in Miss McCarthy’s class?”

“Second grade? You weren’t in her class.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was in Mr. White’s class. But he got the flu and so the sub brought us over to Miss McCarthy’s room and—”

“You got cake on Kylie Simpson’s dress and she started to cry.” As the memory returned, Amira’s eyes lit with laughter. “I remember now.”

“So Miss McCarthy put on some music to distract us, and we started dancing around the room—”

“Probably because we all had a serious case of sugar high—”

“And you were afraid you were going to get trampled by Bernie Watkins, so you asked if you could stand on my feet while I danced.”

“I had totally forgotten about that.” She shook her head. “That dance didn’t last very long.”

“I didn’t have very strong feet.” He stuck out a dress shoe. “Still don’t, so I hope Bernie doesn’t show up.”

She laughed. “He went to Millbrook High, so no worries there. And I’ve gotten a little taller since second grade.”

“You have indeed.” His gaze roamed over her lithe frame. Still as attractive as he remembered, if not even more so now, with the addition of a woman’s curves, a woman’s experiences. But there was a sadness to her, too. He wished he really did have a magic touch so he could figure out what to say. “Have you been in Cali this whole time?”

“Yes, taking care of my father.”

“How is he?”

She stiffened. “He’s…He died. A month ago.”

“I’m so sorry, Amira.”

“It’s okay. He had a lot of good years. More than we expected.”

He saw the toll those years had taken in her delicate features, in the weariness that seemed to fill her shoulders, her words. Amira had jetted across the country, on a moment’s notice, to take care of a father who had abandoned her. At the time, he hadn’t been able to understand why. She’d given up everything without a backward glance, because that was the kind of person Amira was—committed, family oriented, planting roots wherever she went. The complete opposite of him. “You took a lot on your shoulders.”

She shrugged. “It was family. What else could I do?”

“Go to college, head for New York, like we’d planned. Focus on your own life, ” he said.

“And here I thought you’d changed, Trey.” She stepped out of his arms as the song wound to its end. “You’re still the guy who puts himself first and everyone else a distant second.”

Then she turned and walked off the dance floor. She crossed the room, pushing through the double doors of the ballroom. They swung shut behind her with a heavy, firm click.

“Hey, Trey,” called one of the guys from the football team. “Come over here. We want to settle a bet about that winning touchdown you made at State.”

Trey’s gaze swung back to the doors. They stayed shut, and Amira stayed gone. To his right, the glory days waited, with his former teammates and the cheerleaders who still hung close by. Trey waited only a second, then made his choice.

6

The dark night air whispered a cool breeze over Amira’s bare arms. She leaned against the building, watching the traffic pass by the hotel, tires creating that soft hush-hush music of a city at night. She drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

What had she been thinking, dancing with Trey? She wasn’t here to resurrect a relationship with him. Those days were in the past, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.

So why did she care if he had changed, or whether he still remembered her?

The door beside her opened and Trey stepped outside. Even now, even when she knew better, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “Don’t you have a reunion to get back to?” she asked.

“I could say the same to you.”

She shrugged. “You’re the one with the fan club inside.”

He took a step closer, winnowing the gap between them to mere inches. “I don’t care about them.”

A sigh escaped her and she pushed off from the wall to face him. The Trey she remembered had chased the next headline, looked for the next celebration. He’d been more focused on being the star than on being there when she needed him. “I should probably get back inside. I’m supposed to be in charge of the dessert table at nine.”

“Avoiding me again?” He arched a brow. “Why can’t you have a simple conversation with me?”

“We talked.” They had talked and danced, and she had felt his body against hers, and realized she’d been fooling herself to think she was over him.

But Trey wasn’t the kind of man she wanted in her life—not that day at graduation when he had let her down, and not now. From what she’d seen tonight, he hadn’t changed much.

He grinned. “We barely talked. I want to know more about what you’ve been doing for the past few years, and what you’re doing next.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, 'why?’”

“Our relationship has been over for a long time, Trey. Why don’t we just leave the past where it is, wish each other well and call it a night?”

“Because there’s still unfinished business between us. Some words that need to be said. I keep trying to say them, but you keep backing away.” He took another step closer. “You’re scared.”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then prove it.” He took another step, and now nothing but a whisper of air separated them. “Kiss me.”

“What is kissing you going to prove?” She affected a sarcastic attitude, as if she didn’t care. As if her heart wasn’t beating at a furious pace, her pulse thundering in her head, and anticipation spreading in a warm pool in her gut.

“That you don’t care about me anymore,” he said, his voice low and dark, his breath whispering against her lips.

She raised her chin. “We’ve been over a long time, Trey.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “You said that already.” He reached up and cupped her jaw, letting his thumb trace along her lower lip. Her mouth opened, and the anticipation shifted to a heated roar. Trey’s gaze met hers for one long, hot second, then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

Desire swept through her in a hot, fast rush. She knew, oh, how she knew, how good a kiss from him would be. He’d been her first kiss, and her most memorable kiss, and a thousand other kisses that she had never forgotten. And now…

Now he was her most amazing kiss. Trey’s lips slid across hers, slow, easy at first, as if he was taking his time getting to know her again. Then his hands came up and cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and he opened his mouth against hers. She curved into him, responding in kind.

Trey shifted and so, too, did the mood, from sweet and easy to searing and swift, like a fire set off by a torch. He groaned and she echoed the sound, and they crushed their bodies together, their kiss a hungry, blinding rush to have more, more, more. His hands bunched at the back of her dress, and she reached under his suit jacket, grasping at the firm, hard muscles beneath. For a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot who they were, and just gave in to desire.

Then a car honked behind them, and common sense jerked her back to reality. Above her, rain started falling, soft, just a dusting of droplets. Amira pushed off from Trey and inserted a good foot of distance between them. “That…that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why not?”

Because she was finally ready to start her own life, and he was pulling her backward. The reunion was one night; after it was over, Trey would go on with his life, and she would go on with hers. “I have to get back inside.” She turned away.

He reached for her arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”

She shook her head. “I have to.”

“I’ve made a mess of this. Would you meet me,” he said, his gaze connecting with hers, “tomorrow, for lunch? Let’s get away from all this—” he waved at the ballroom, and the high-school memories inside “—and have a real, honest conversation.”

“With you?” She shook her head. “Trey, that was half the problem. We had fun, not honest conversations.”

“And you think I haven’t changed.”

“People don’t change, Trey.”

“Meet me tomorrow. Please.” He took a step forward, and she wanted him to kiss her and leave her all at the same time. The rain started falling harder, pelting Trey’s jacket, Amira’s dress. “You owe me that, at least.” He gave her the address of a local restaurant. “No strings, no expectations. Just that one conversation we should have had five years ago.”

She shook her head and swiped at her face, not sure if it was tears or rain on her cheeks. “What’s that going to change?”

“You won’t know unless you show up.” He pressed a soft, tender kiss to her cheek, then he turned and stalked off into the dark, rainy night. Amira stood there a long time, watching the space where Trey had been, while the rain ruined her dress and her heart cracked.

7

Trey drummed his fingers on the table. Reset his place setting, twice. Fiddled with the napkin. And watched the clock tick past twelve, edge toward twelve-fifteen and then bump up against twelve-thirty. He’d been in the fifties-style restaurant in downtown Boston for so long, the waitress finally gave up on asking him what he wanted to eat, and stuck to refilling his water glass.

He was a fool for believing Amira would show up. He’d thought he’d read something between them last night in their dance, their kiss. He’d been wrong. He got to his feet, reaching into his pocket for a few bills for the waitress, when the door opened and Amira hurried in, her hair a wild, wet tangle around her face, the khaki trench coat she wore dripping on the floor. Her gaze scanned the room before it lit on him.

A smile broke across her face, bursting like sunshine in the diner, erasing the gray, rainy day outside. His heart leaped, but he tempered his joy with a dose of reality. Take it slow, one step at a time, and don’t read anything into a simple lunch.

Trey came around to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for Amira. “Thanks,” she said, dropping into it with a sigh. She shrugged out of her jacket and ran a hand through her hair. “I lost track of the time and then I couldn’t find a cab and—”

“You’re here.” He could feel the goofy grin on his face, and he didn’t even care. “I’m glad.”

He’d dated dozens of girls—hell, maybe a hundred—over the past five years. None of those relationships had lasted more than a few weeks, or meant any more to him than a show on TV. The girls he’d dated hadn’t expected much out of him, nor he from them. There had been a mutual agreement that they would have a good time and that was it.

Except with Amira. She’d been the only girl who had asked more of him. He’d run from her expectations, and he’d been running ever since. Until he’d seen himself twenty, thirty years down the road in his father’s face, bruised and battered by a car accident, and decided he wanted more. Until now.

“I almost didn’t come,” she said.

The waitress deposited a steaming mug and a small plate with a teabag and lemon slice by Amira. “Hot tea for you.”

“Thank you.” Amira blinked up at her. “How did you know?”

“He ordered it,” the waitress said, motioning to Trey, before handing them menus. “I’ll give you two a few minutes, then come back for your order.”

When she was gone, Amira turned to Trey. “You remembered.”

He chuckled. “You must have had a thousand cups of tea at that little diner by your house in the time we dated. Never coffee, always tea, with lemon, not honey.”

A smile curved across her face. He hadn’t forgotten. The gesture sent a warm flutter through her. “I'm…flattered.”

“And surprised? Admit it, you didn’t think I was paying attention.”

“Well, you were…busy.”

“Self-centered. You can say it.”

“Oh, you had moments when…” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged, reached for the teabag and assembled her drink.

“When what?”

She raised her gaze to his. “When you were sweet.”

He laughed. “Me? Never. I was the captain of the football team.” He flexed a bicep and gave her a teasing grin. “Sweet didn’t describe me.”

“You were sweet with me, sometimes, and those were the moments that…” She paused to wring out the teabag, then squeeze in some lemon. “That made dating you nice.”

“And the rest of the moments?”

“Well…” She shrugged. “That was years ago.”

He knew she was thinking of the one moment he hadn’t been sweet, when he had rejected her because she had asked him to be responsible, dependable, strong for her. Regret filled him. “I was a terrible boyfriend. I’m sorry.”

“You were young. Me, too. We were still getting our feet wet at the dating thing.”

“That’s true, but I still owe you an apology.” He’d made a lot of mistakes in his youth, and though he couldn’t rectify all of them, he could start with what he had done to Amira. Letting her down when she’d needed him most. “So what do you think would happen if we tried over again, now, as adults?”

“Tried again?”

“Yeah. Dated now.”

She stared at him, her tea forgotten. “You're…you’re asking me on a date?”

“I’m asking you on more than one.” He reached across the table and caught her hand in his. Every time he touched her, a rush ran through him. Not desire—something more, something warmer, deeper. “I want to find out where we could have gone if we hadn’t broken up all those years ago.”

She tugged her hand out of his and moved it under the table. “We can’t do that, Trey.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

“We're…not compatible.”

“After that kiss last night, you’re saying we wouldn’t be a good fit? Seemed to me like we fit perfectly.”

A blush bloomed in her cheeks. “Well, that kiss notwithstanding.”

So she’d been as affected as he had been last night. He’d walked away from the reunion and realized two things before he even hailed a cab. He was glad he’d gone, and he was still in love with Amira Andrews. Maybe it was all the unfinished business between them, maybe it was the desire to show her that he could be everything she’d thought he was, or maybe it was just the new maturity that had come upon him in recent months, but Trey had no intentions of letting Amira go a second time. “Then let’s try again.”

She toyed with the handle of her mug, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t. I don’t know where I’m living or what I’m doing. I’m in transition right now, figuring out what I want, and getting involved with anyone would be a bad idea.”

“You’re afraid.” He shook his head. “You are the bravest girl I know and you’re afraid. Why?”

“I’m not afraid.” The protest came fast, then just as quickly, she gave him a wry grin. “Okay, maybe I am a little. It’s just…I’ve kind of been living in a bubble for the past five years. All the way on the other side of the country, wrapped up in my father’s medical care. The rest of the world just kind of…disappeared for me during that time.”

He leaned across the table, meeting her gaze with his own. “Then stop doing that. It’s time you had your own life, Amira. The one you put on hold.”

“I keep telling myself that, and so do my friends, but…” She shrugged. “I wonder if it’s too late. I’m not eighteen anymore, Trey. I missed all the typical after-high-school stuff—college, dorm life, internships…”

“So? Start somewhere else.”

She laughed, but he could still see the doubt and fear warring in her eyes. She was skittish, unsure, and that was far from the Amira he remembered. What was it going to take for her to let go and get that fire back again?

“You think I can start over again, just like that?” she said.

“That’s what I did. I spent too many years wasting my life, doing nothing. Then I had a moment that…changed things for me. My grandmother offered me a job at the family firm, and I took it. Believe me, I was scared as hell, sure I’d screw it up.”

“Why would you believe that?”

“Amira, what have I done right? Carrying a football over a line isn’t exactly a lifetime achievement. You, though…you were always amazing. Yearbook editor, school newspaper editor. You won that poetry contest, and that other essay thing.”

“You remember all that?”

“I remember everything about you.” And he did. As much as he thought he’d put her from his mind, she’d always lingered there, like peanut butter on the roof of a child’s mouth. “Do you remember?”

Her gaze met his and held. He saw the fear bubble up again in her eyes. She shook her head, then gathered up her coat and got to her feet. “Whether I do or I don’t doesn’t matter, Trey. I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is a good idea.” She paused by his chair, letting her hand linger on his shoulder, then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye,” she whispered.

And then she was gone. Again.

He stayed where he was. The smartest thing to do was put Amira out of his mind, once and for all. The problem? He’d never forgotten Amira and he never would.

8

Amira pushed the pile of papers to the side. “I’m too old to start college, Aunt Bea.”

Her aunt settled in the seat across from her at the scarred maple table that had sat in Bea’s kitchen for as long as Amira could remember. Aunt Bea was a tall, wiry woman with short gray hair and a penchant for bright colors. “You’re never too old. Heck, your uncle Joe started when he was seventy. Didn’t graduate until he was ninety, but hey, he went.”

Amira laughed. “I’m hoping I don’t have to be on a twenty-year plan. Besides, I’m not even sure I want to go to college. I came back here to start over, but the trouble is figuring out where to begin.”

“What about the book you were working on? Where are you with that?”

Trey had asked her the same thing at the reunion. The great American novel that Amira had started in high school, so sure she’d finish it during college, send it out and become a famous novelist. Then her life had detoured and the book had been relegated to the back of a closet, pulled out once in a while when she’d get a bug to write. She’d hammer out a few pages, then put it back, absorbed again in the demands of her family.

But really, Amira admitted to herself, Trey was right. Her delay had been more about fear than time. If she finished the book, she’d have to send it out, and after putting her dream on hold for five years, her doubts kept getting in the way of that final step.

Damn it, she was tired of that. Tired of letting fear rule her decisions. No more. “It’s nearly done. But—”

“But nothing. You get yourself up there, finish that baby and send it out into the world.” Aunt Bea shooed at Amira.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I will.” Amira got to her feet, grabbing a couple of cookies from the dish on the table. Then she gave her aunt a hug. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Aunt Bea’s soft hand covered Amira’s. “Anytime, honey. You know you did an incredible thing going out there and taking care of your dad. But you deserve to live for yourself now.”

“I agree,” Amira said. Starting today, she was going to do exactly that.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Amira said, waving her aunt back into her chair. “It’s probably the mailman.”

But as she approached the oval of glass in Aunt Bea’s front door, she could tell it wasn’t the mailman standing on the other side. The tall, lean, curly-haired figure was someone she hadn’t expected to see again. Her heart skipped a beat and a breath caught in her throat. She opened the door, and forced herself not to run a hand through her hair or worry about her makeup. “Trey. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He grinned. “You said you were staying at your aunt’s, so I took a chance that you’d be here.”

“Is that Trey Westbrook?” Aunt Bea said from behind Amira. “Oh, my, you’ve gotten so tall! Come on in, have some cookies.”

“Don’t mind if I do, Miss Bea.” Trey gave a nod in Amira’s direction. “If that’s okay with you.”

Amira debated saying no and sending him on his way, but the part of her that hadn’t forgotten that kiss at the reunion overruled her objections. Besides, Aunt Bea had always liked Trey and surely missed seeing him around here. He’d been a constant staple in her aunt’s home during high school. Yeah, that was exactly why she opened the door wider. “Sure. Come on in.”

He stepped past her, and the scent of his cologne—dark, woodsy—curled around her and tempted her to draw closer. He crossed to Aunt Bea and gave her a hug. “Haven’t seen you in quite a while, Miss Bea. How have you been?”

She smiled and ruffled his hair—she was probably the only person on the planet who could do that to the adult Trey. “Just fine. And better now that my favorite adopted nephew has come to visit.”

He chuckled. They exchanged small talk for a while, then Aunt Bea claimed she had housework upstairs and left the two of them alone. A ruse, Amira was sure, but she went along with it anyway. She led Trey into the kitchen, poured him a cup of water and made tea for herself, then slid the plate of cookies over to him. “You want to sit outside? It’s a gorgeous day.”

He nodded and followed her out to the back porch. They settled on the concrete stoop, mugs between them. Birds chirped in the warm air, celebrating the end of the rain. The sun peeked past a few fluffy clouds, and dropped a golden wash over the grass, trees, flowers. “You ran out on me,” Trey said.

“We can’t keep retreading this ground, Trey.” If she got involved with him again, she’d be repeating her past. All she’d done for the past five years was stand in place. Going back in time would be even worse. Her plan was to move forward.

“We aren’t retreading the same ground, Amira. We aren’t even on the track yet. You keep derailing us.” He shook his head and braced his elbows on his knees. “I can understand why you’re reluctant to trust me. When we were together before, I let you down. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurred her vision. She’d thought she was over that, over the whole event, until Trey’s heartfelt confession and his second apology in two days. “Th-thank you.”

He took her hand in both of his. “When you asked me to go with you to California, I panicked. I saw my life becoming this endless loop of hospitals and caretaking, being the one you depended on, the responsible one. I was only eighteen and had never had any experience with responsibility. I wasn’t ready for all that.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “At least that’s what I told myself. And you.”

“It was true, though. I asked way too much of you.”

“No. I expected too little of myself.” His gaze went to the lawn, and he squinted against the bright sun. “I couldn’t be there for you because…” He let out a long breath. “Because I was scared.”

“Scared? You?” She thought of the strong football player who had charged down the field. “Of what?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. The birds chirped, the breeze rustled the trees and a lawnmower droned in the background. “Of everything I always ran away from.”

Then he turned back to Amira and finally told her the whole truth.

9

The words poured from Trey in a fast, steady stream, held inside him for too many years. Words he’d never spoken, truths he’d never faced. “My mother got sick when I was five. Breast cancer. My father hired the best doctors, brought her to the best hospitals. He raised a fit in every treatment room, sure the doctors were missing something. I remember standing on the other side of the room, next to my mother, listening to my father rant while my mother’s breath got slower, slower. He didn’t even notice because he was too busy yelling and being demanding.” He shook his head, but the images stayed. “A few days later, she was gone, and you know what my father did?” He didn’t wait for Amira to respond. “He sued the hospital and the doctors, then he went out and got drunk and started dating anything female under thirty.”

“Oh, Trey, that’s terrible.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“From that day forward, it was as if she never existed. He blew the family money, and when I came of age, so did I. Both of us, using money and bars and girls to forget and push away the guilt and grief. My father couldn’t get past it, and neither could I. But all that baggage from the past was just waiting in the background, coming to light at the worst moment.”

“When I asked you to come with me when my father got sick.”

“It brought everything up again—the hospitals, the fear, feeling that I’d failed. So I bailed, and let you down.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You wanted me to be responsible, dependable, and no one had ever expected anything more of me than a touchdown. It scared the hell out of me, so I told you to go alone. I’m so sorry, Amira.”

“I had no idea. I thought you were just being…”

“Irresponsible. Selfish. Pick an adjective.”

A light laugh escaped her. “I didn’t say any of that. But I was hurt.”

“And believed the worst of me for five years.” He reached up and brushed a tendril of hair away from her brow. “I’m not the same guy I used to be, Amira. A few months ago, my father got into a car accident, and when I saw him in the hospital, already making plans for his next date instead of facing the choices that put him in that hospital bed, I realized that I was in serious danger of becoming him. I want more now. I want us again.”

She let out a gust of breath and got to her feet. Her hair turned shiny under the sunlight, but her brown eyes held shadows and doubts. “Oh, Trey, I barely know what I’m doing from day to day.”

“You’re feeling lost, adrift. Am I right?”

She shrugged, but he could see the words had hit their mark.

“That’s how I felt before my grandmother made her offer. I realized I’d spent five years doing nothing but spending the family money and meeting only the lowest of expectations. When she gave me the job at Westbrook Media, my first instinct was to turn her down, to stay in that comfort zone. The first two weeks I spent there were the worst. No one took me seriously, everyone thought I was just satisfying my grandmother so she’d keep bankrolling my life. But then I buckled down and put in the hours, and people started looking at me differently. It’s been an uphill battle, and one hell of a learning curve, but for the first time in my life, I have direction, Amira. A purpose.”

“I’m glad for you, I really am. You were always so much smarter and more capable than you thought.”

He smiled. “You always saw the best in me.”

She raised a shoulder, let it drop. “That’s the job of a girlfriend.”

“I’ve had girlfriends and none of them ever believed in me the way you did.” He stood, took her hands in his, and looked down into her wide brown eyes. Damn, he loved those eyes, that smile. He always had. “That’s what someone in love sees. The best of the person standing before them. It’s what I’m seeing right now.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. “Trey, we haven’t been together in five years, and—”

“And I was too stupid to realize what I had back then. Now I know better, and I know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.”

“You can’t do this. I…I can't…” She backed up, breaking their contact. The grass flattened under her feet as she put distance between them. “I have to go in. I promised my aunt I’d take her shopping.”

He nodded, not letting his disappointment and hurt show. He’d tried, more than once, to get through to Amira, to reach her heart again. And he’d failed. The realization sliced his heart.

“Maybe it’s too late,” he said, the words ripping past his throat. “Maybe too many years have gone by. I wish you luck, Amira, in whatever you do.” Then he pressed one last kiss to her lips before he walked away.

10

She was insane.

Amira stood in her aunt’s yard for a solid ten minutes after Trey left, warring with herself. She thought of all the things she had started and not finished over the past five years, and all the excuses she had held on to, because that was easier than facing her fears. There was no age limit for college, for following her dreams, for going after what she wanted. She was the only thing standing in her way.

And she didn’t want to do that anymore.

She’d vowed to change when her father had died, but when the scary moment had come, she’d retreated. Again. That was no way to reclaim her life, to move forward.

Aunt Bea opened the back door and poked her head out. “Is Trey gone?”

Amira nodded.

“It’s so nice to see that young man again. I used to think you two would get married.” Aunt Bea sighed. “Ah, well, life throws you curveballs and sometimes you just have to find your own way to get from first to home.”

Amira laughed. “What’s that mean?”

A mysterious smile curved across her elderly aunt’s face. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. You always were a smart girl. Always knew the right answer.” Then she brightened. “So, do you want to go shopping? Or is there…something else you need to do?”

Amira’s gaze went to the side gate, the same one that Trey had used a little while earlier. “There is one thing I have to do first. But I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Take your time,” Aunt Bea said. “Some things need a little time to make right.” Then she ducked inside and shut the door.

Amira raced out to the street, but Trey’s car was gone, and so was he. Disappointment filled her. She stood there a moment, so sure it was too late. She’d lost him.

Then she took one step to the right, another, and soon she was hurrying down the sidewalk, detouring onto a well-worn path that cut through the woods at the back of her aunt’s neighborhood, her steps increasing with every passing second until she emerged in a clearing.

The soft gurgle of a stream reached her ears first, chased by the lazy call of crickets and the sweet melody of nesting birds. She rounded the corner, and there, sitting on a wide, flat rock at the side of the creek, was Trey. Her heart leaped.

“Somehow, I knew you’d be here,” she said.

He turned, and a smile burst across his face. “It used to be our favorite spot.”

She skirted the low-growing ferns and took a seat on the opposite side of the rock. The water below tempted her, and she kicked off her shoes and dipped her toes into the cool stream. “I came home a few times in the past couple of years to visit Aunt Bea, and at least once during each visit, I found myself here. Partly to think, and partly to see—” she gave him a smile, and with a leap of faith, decided to be honest with him and take a chance “—if you would be here.”

“You missed me,” he said.

She nodded. “I thought about you a thousand times. I wondered if you had met someone else, if you had moved on—”

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Amira.” His eyes held honesty, sincerity. “And I’ve never forgotten you.”

“When I saw you again at the reunion, it scared me, even though it’s what I’ve wanted for so long.” She let out a long breath. “You weren’t the only one who bailed that day at graduation. I did, too, on us.”

“Amira—”

She put up a hand to stop him. “I did. To be honest, I was glad you didn’t come with me, because I was so in love with you, and I was afraid that if we went to California together, we’d end up living together or married. Committed.”

He grinned. “Isn’t that the goal?”

“It was, but I was afraid at the same time that I would fail at it. I grew up in a family where commitment was a loose word. My father was never there, my mother was off pursuing her photography career, and I ended up living with my aunt Bea.”

“Like I did with my grandmother.”

She nodded. “We’re pretty similar people, Trey. When I went to California to take care of my dad, I wasn’t just looking to help him, I was looking for answers about why he wasn’t there for me, for my mom. About what else in the world held such appeal that he rarely came home for me.”

“And did you get those answers?”

She shook her head. “He never liked to talk about himself or the past, and he died that way, too. I never felt close to him, even at the end. I came back here to start my life over, and realized I didn’t have one to start over. I had gone five years without pursuing my own dreams, and now I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of more failure. I’ve made excuses for years—my father needed me too often for me to work on my book, or I’m too old to go to college. Or—” she met his gaze, her pulse thundering in her veins “—that the feelings I had back in high school were nothing more than infatuation.”

“And now? Do you still feel that way? Scared? Unsure?”

She glanced at the meandering stream that wound its way through the woods before disappearing around a bend. “Do you remember the day we followed the stream?”

He nodded. “We wanted to see where it ended up.”

“We must have walked three miles that day and we never reached the end. Hell, this stream could go all the way to California for all I know.”

“Maybe I should have gotten a boat for graduation. Then I could have followed it to you.”

She laughed. “I used to hate that I didn’t know where the stream ends up, but after the past few days, I realized it’s part of the appeal. Part of what I love about this place. It’s a mystery, one I may never solve. And I have to be okay with mysteries. With not knowing if my book will sell or if I’ll like college or if—” she raised her gaze to his “—we’ll stay together forever.”

He cradled her hands. His touch warmed, comforted her. “If you’re willing to take the risk, I’m willing to stick with you for the next hundred years.”

She took in a deep breath and realized if she kept on putting off the risks in her life, she would lose out on all the wonderful rewards. She had to believe in herself, in her own worth. She bit her lip, then let out a breath, and when she did, a sense of peace draped over her. Things might not work out perfectly, but she would be okay. “I am willing to do that. With you.”

“Really?” He grinned and drew her to him in a long, tight embrace. “I love you, Amira,” he said, his words warm against her hair.

“I love you, too, Trey.” And she did. He’d been the one man she’d never forgotten, never gotten over. Her first kiss, her first love, and now her last love. She drew back and lifted her gaze to his. “I always admired you because you were such a risk taker. The one who charged down the field, sure of success even when there were a dozen linebackers in front of you.”

He chuckled. “Maybe not quite a dozen.”

“You weren’t afraid of failure, that’s the point. And I don’t want to be, either.”

“Oh, I’ve been afraid of failure.” His thumbs traced the back of her hands. “Of failing you.”

“You won’t. If you keep doing one very, very important thing.”

“What’s that?”

She leaned into him, feeling her smile spread across her face and her heart lighten as she took the biggest risk of all and allowed herself to fall in love. “Kiss me.”

“My pleasure,” Trey said, then he leaned in and did just that.

THE END

Make sure you follow my page for more weekly shorts! What did you guys think of this story? Did you like the ending or was it too cheesy? 

[ashboogiie]

Ever wondered what the lives of the chosen ones are really like? Well, I’m going to tell you, because I’m one of them. I’m not talking about beautiful models or actors or musical prodigies or mathematical geniuses. I’m talking about the people who are born to it—those of us who have everything anyone could possibly wish for and who take it all completely for granted.

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I live and go to school and play and sleep—sometimes with each other. We all live in huge apartments with our own bedrooms and bathrooms and phone lines. We have unlimited access to money and booze and whatever else we want, and our parents are rarely home, so we have tons of privacy. We’re smart, we’ve inherited classic good looks, we wear designer clothes, and we know how to party. Our shit still stinks, but you can’t smell it because the bathroom is sprayed hourly by the maid with a refreshing scent made exclusively for us by French perfumers.

It’s a luxurious life, but someone’s got to live it…

LINK

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive private schools. We aren’t always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste..

It’s Porsha Sinclaire’s seventeenth birthday, and she knows exactly what she wants—Kaliq, her studly troubled boyfriend of three years. But Porsha’s been too busy filling out Ivy League college applications to notice that Kaliq has found himself another playmate… 

LINK

It’s Chrismastime and Porsha and Chanel are best friends again and up to their old tricks—partying hard and breaking hearts from Park Avenue to the Caribbean. Porsha’s mom and Cyrus are having their honeymoon in Salt Key. And when school lets out for the holiday, Porsha, Chanel, Tahj, and company head down there to blow off steam after their midterm exams. In between Pina Coladas and topless sunbathing, the crew is up for some major surprises. 

Everyone jets back to NYC for Chanel’s New Year’s party, during which Kaliq and Porsha may or may not finally go all the way, and Chanel may or may not be discovered to be the secret fling of Hollywood’s hottest young leading man…

LINK

Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is suffering from post-college-application cabin fever and it’s time to run a little wild! Could it be that Chanel is smitten with Porsha’s stepbrother or will the Fashion Week parties pull her away from any attempt at true love? Mekhi and Yasmine are mad about each other and pursuing their creative dreams—but be careful of what you wish for. Kaliq hits an all-time low as Porsha’s Yale interview with a tall, handsome alum takes an unexpected turn and Bree makes a new friend who gets a little too close for comfort. And just who is going to get into college early acceptance? Wintertime has never been hotter in NYC as things steam up all over Fifth Avenue.

LINK

It’s spring break and love is in the air. Or is that a blend of Chanel no. 9 and Gucci Rush? Is there a difference? 

Porsha moves in with Chanel and they’re back to being best friends. But will the love-fest last or will they end up tearing out one anothers newly highlighted hair? And speaking of new, Kaliq is on the straight and narrow, playing Kaliq-in-shining-armor to his crazy new girlfriend, Gia. But he will definitely get more than he bargained for when he, Gia, Porsha, and Chanel end up hanging out together in Sun Valley, Idaho. Back in Manhattan, Bree is spending time with a mysteriously nice new boyfriend and Mekhi is spending time crying in the office of the Red Letter literary journal. And Yasmine, wait, is that Yasmine shopping at Barneys with a guy in a Lacoste shirt? The long cold winter is over and the sun is finally shining along Fifth Avenue. The trees are in bloom and NYC’s most fabulous are ready for a truly outrageous vacation!

LINK

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I live in gorgeous apartments, go to exclusive private schools, and make Manhattan our own personal playground. It might look hard to be this fabulous, but for us it’s as easy as sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend. Spring Break is over, and while some are hitting the books, the Upper East Side set is spending more time showing off their glowing tans, or nursing hangovers from a week’s worth of partying. But not everything is fun and games. Acceptance letters are on their way out from college admissions, and the time has come to find out where everyone will be spending the next four years. Stakes are raised and friendships will be put to the test.

LINK

[bridgeportacademy]

Where hav u been??!?? :((( I missed u

I miss you too love 😩😘 I miss all of you guys actually. I wish you would read my new series because I know if you love Bridgeport you'll LOVE Upper East Side, it's based on Gossip Girl. And btw, I'm never deleting this account so the chapters will always still be up for you guys to read :)

[bridgeportacademy]

I need advice on writing. I wanna know how you detailed and wrote so beautifully!

Thank you! 😘😘 I actually just made a post about this on my main page, check it out!

[bridgeportacademy]

I've been receiving quite a few questions about where you can read Bridgeport and what exactly the new series is about. I'm not ignoring you guys but I think my last post will answer all questions :)

[ashboogiie]

Just curious but before I start reading the new version, which character is which? Like, for example; who's playing Kae, Robyn, Chris, Nicki, Cassie, etc?

Well my new series (Upper East Side) starts before Kae gets to Bridgeport so Robyn, Chris, Nicki, & Cassie won’t be appearing yet. The series revolves around the lives and romances of privileged teenagers in New York City’s Upper East Side. Kae often tries to fit in with the rich girls at her school, even though she does not hold a place in their social sphere. She is eventually kicked out of her private school and sent to a boarding school where she tries to reinvent herself. Her move to the boarding school and her life there will be the spin-off series, which you all know as Bridgeport Academy. 

Kae is played by a girl named Bree Hargrove. I didn’t change much about the character other than physical aspects. Whereas in the fanfic, Kae is obviously Asian, in the ebooks she’s Black. I just really suggest reading the Upper East Side series because you’ll get to know more about Kae/Bree and you’ll get introduced to a whole new set of characters and drama (trust me, the Upper East Side is just as messy as Bridgeport lol). 

Here’s the LINK to the series if you’re interested…

[ashboogiie]

Ever wondered what the lives of the chosen ones are really like? Well, I’m going to tell you, because I’m one of them. I’m not talking about beautiful models or actors or musical prodigies or mathematical geniuses. I’m talking about the people who are born to it—those of us who have everything anyone could possibly wish for and who take it all completely for granted.

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I live and go to school and play and sleep—sometimes with each other. We all live in huge apartments with our own bedrooms and bathrooms and phone lines. We have unlimited access to money and booze and whatever else we want, and our parents are rarely home, so we have tons of privacy. We’re smart, we’ve inherited classic good looks, we wear designer clothes, and we know how to party. Our shit still stinks, but you can’t smell it because the bathroom is sprayed hourly by the maid with a refreshing scent made exclusively for us by French perfumers.

It’s a luxurious life, but someone’s got to live it…

LINK

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive private schools. We aren’t always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste.

Winter is coming. It’s the city’s favorite season and mine, too. The boys are out in Central Park, playing ball or doing whatever boys do this time of year, getting all mussed up with bits of dried leaves on their sweaters and in their hair. Talk about irresistible!

It’s time to break out those credit cards and hit Bendel’s and Barneys for some cool new boots, sexy fishnet tights, little wool skirts, and delicious cashmere sweaters. The city feels a little sparklier this time of year, and we want to sparkle with it!

Unfortunately, it’s also time to fill out our college applications. We all come from the sorts of families and go to the sorts of schools where not applying to the Ivy Leagues is not an option, and not getting into them would be a total embarrassment. The pressure is on, but I refuse to let it get to me. This is our senior year of high school and we’re going to live it up and make our mark and still get into the colleges of our choice. We’ve got the finest blood on the East Coast—I’m sure we can figure out how to have our cake and eat it too, just as we always have.

COMING NEXT WEEK!

[bridgeportacademy]

Hey loves! I know you’ve been waiting FOREVER for an update but I’ve decided to take my writing in a different direction. I’ve gotten so much great feedback on here that I actually wanna start self publishing! I’m still gonna continue Bridgeport Academy & The Carters but of course I’m gonna have to change the characters up a bit (I think publishing fan fiction is illegal?) I plan on making them spin-off series to the one I’m working on now (Upper East Side). So please, please check it out & give me some feedback! I know some of you guys are really invested in this story but trust me, I do plan on continuing it! I just hope guys can support me in my writing journey and keep reading my work 😊😘

[ashboogiie]

Ever wondered what the lives of the chosen ones are really like? Well, I’m going to tell you, because I’m one of them. I’m not talking about beautiful models or actors or musical prodigies or mathematical geniuses. I’m talking about the people who are born to it—those of us who have everything anyone could possibly wish for and who take it all completely for granted.

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I live and go to school and play and sleep—sometimes with each other. We all live in huge apartments with our own bedrooms and bathrooms and phone lines. We have unlimited access to money and booze and whatever else we want, and our parents are rarely home, so we have tons of privacy. We’re smart, we’ve inherited classic good looks, we wear designer clothes, and we know how to party. Our shit still stinks, but you can’t smell it because the bathroom is sprayed hourly by the maid with a refreshing scent made exclusively for us by French perfumers.

It’s a luxurious life, but someone’s got to live it…

LINK

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive private schools. We aren’t always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste.

Winter is coming. It’s the city’s favorite season and mine, too. The boys are out in Central Park, playing ball or doing whatever boys do this time of year, getting all mussed up with bits of dried leaves on their sweaters and in their hair. Talk about irresistible!

It’s time to break out those credit cards and hit Bendel’s and Barneys for some cool new boots, sexy fishnet tights, little wool skirts, and delicious cashmere sweaters. The city feels a little sparklier this time of year, and we want to sparkle with it!

Unfortunately, it’s also time to fill out our college applications. We all come from the sorts of families and go to the sorts of schools where not applying to the Ivy Leagues is not an option, and not getting into them would be a total embarrassment. The pressure is on, but I refuse to let it get to me. This is our senior year of high school and we’re going to live it up and make our mark and still get into the colleges of our choice. We’ve got the finest blood on the East Coast—I’m sure we can figure out how to have our cake and eat it too, just as we always have.

COMING NEXT WEEK!

[bridgeportacademy]

Hey loves! I know you've been waiting FOREVER for an update but I've decided to take my writing in a different direction. I've gotten so much great feedback on here that I actually wanna start self publishing! I'm still gonna continue Bridgeport Academy & The Carters but of course I'm gonna have to change the characters up a bit (I think publishing fan fiction is illegal?) I plan on making them spin-off series to the one I'm working on now (Upper East Side). So please, please check it out & give me some feedback! I know some of you guys are really invested in this story but trust me, I do plan on continuing it! I just hope guys can support me in my writing journey and keep reading my work 😊😘

[bridgeportacademy]

Ur not the only one. I've been stressed tf out wit school nd finals. Math is my worst fucking subject nd somehow thts the class I'm doing best in cuz I hav an A

Ugh, lucky you 😩 Math has always been my worst subject, ever since I was little. They make it sooo complicated, like it was cool when it was just adding, subtracting, dividing & multiplying lol, now it’s all this extra shit. English was always my best subject…

[bridgeportacademy]

When r u updating again I miss your stories

Aww 😘❤️ By the end of this week boo, promise.

[bridgeportacademy]

Girl I'm just now seeing your comment about a different world but yassss, where are you at now?

Lol yeah that show is definitely growing on me. I'm here now!

[bridgeportacademy]

Where you been? 😕

I know 😕😕😕 I've just been going through mad shit and instead of talking about it, I usually just shut myself off from everybody and deal with it by myself. I guess it's the Virgo in me 😞

[bridgeportacademy]

Wya boo?

I'm here 😩😩😩 Sorry, it's been a minute. Read my previous posts...

[bridgeportacademy]

when is the next update ????

End of this week...

[bridgeportacademy]

update?

By the end of this week! You can count on it ✔️✔️✔️

[bridgeportacademy]

make the pageeee!

The roleplay page?

[bridgeportacademy]

Angelo 👀*cough cough* 😂😂 I know you sick of my ass & my Angelo obsession, But great updates diggin' them so far keep up the great writing babes😘😘

Thanks boo 😘😘😘 Sorry, I'm late af lol but I've definitely been contemplating the Angelo idea 😏