“Meet Isabel Conklin, the fresh-faced exchange student from Shanghai, making her debut in American life with the Fisher family. Under the nurturing wing of the warm-hearted Susannah Fisher, Isabel is introduced to the charms of her two attractive sons. Yet, there’s a catch: Belly, determined not to repeat her past relationship blunders, is steadfast in her resolve to avoid any romantic entanglements with the Fisher boys. As the story unfolds, these characters navigate the tricky waters of friendship, family, and love, all while attempting to shield their hearts from potential heartbreak. // an alternate universe fanfiction using the characters from jenny han’s the summer i turned pretty series!
please feel FREE to message me all about your thoughts and feelings i LOVE hearing theories and recieving love <33
I’m so late on the good girls hype, but have found brio taking up every square inch of my brain — so I’ve been writing silly little fics on ao3! i have a full length fic that’s currently in the works but I’m also finishing up part one of something that will eventually be a series. I’ll post all 11/12 chapters in one go too.
if anyone on here still has brio in their brain, please chat with me i am obsessed and have no one to talk to about it.
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bellys pov
The Jeep was set to pull out in just five minutes, and Jeremiah's voice carried up the stairs, breaking the morning stillness. I'd been awake for hours, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of being unprepared for my first day at Boston College High School. That sense of unreadiness seemed unlikely to fade any time soon.
There was something nerve-wracking about being in such a completely new environment. I had met a few classmates at the party we attended on Friday, but today felt different. There was no alcohol to blur emotions, no liquid courage to boost my confidence. What if they didn't like the real me without the aid of alcohol?
"Oh, my special girl, you look absolutely dreamy," Susannah appeared behind me in the mirror, her smile melting my insides and coaxing a smile onto my own lips.
Susannah and I had spent all of last night selecting my first-day outfit. Jeremiah had teased us, insisting it wasn't a big deal, but his mom hushed him and sent him on an ice cream run for us instead. "Boys don't get it; being excited for your first day is a big deal," she reassured me.
We ultimately chose a simple blue corset top and white high-waisted shorts. Susannah had even added a white cardigan, which I secretly stashed in my bag once I got into the car with Jeremiah. Even with her modest addition, I felt like such a grown-up.
Back home, we wore uniforms to school, so dressing as we pleased was a novel concept—one that was both thrilling and intimidating. But having Susannah to guide me through it all was comforting. I tried to imagine my mom doing the same, but I knew she wouldn't have. She wouldn't have taken me shopping, helped me create outfits, or approved of this outfit—though it wasn't overly mature or revealing. She'd have preferred me in a turtleneck and jeans, cinched with a belt to keep them from slipping down.
"I should probably get going. Thank you for everything, Susannah," I hugged her, despite hearing Jeremiah's car horn honking outside. He could wait a few more seconds; it wouldn't hurt him. She smiled and squeezed me tightly, telling me to give her boy a playful slap for rushing perfection.
"Well, at least it was worth the wait. You look beautiful, Bells," Jeremiah complimented, waiting for me to hop into the passenger seat. His words made my cheeks flush. We had agreed to be just friends, and that the kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake, but it was hard to convince myself otherwise when he said things like that—things that made me want to squeal and kick my feet.
"Well, we can thank your mom for that. She really helped put me together," I confessed. There was no way I could have pulled off a look like this or styled my hair so nicely without her assistance.
"I'm sure that's untrue. You would have looked good in anything," he assured me, his hand inching toward the back of my seat as he reversed out of the driveway.
My gaze lingered on him, noting how our outfits almost coordinated—his light blue button-up adorned with a white floral print and khaki shorts complemented my own outfit. I was half-surprised Susannah hadn't insisted on one of those cheesy back-to-school photos. His nose crinkled as he focused on avoiding the mailbox, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. God, he was so attractive... and God, I needed to stop having these thoughts.
"Are you nervous?" Jeremiah asked as we stopped at a red light, turning the radio down. I glanced over at him, my fingers halting their fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.
"What gave it away?" I asked, bashful.
"Your face says it all, really," he chuckled, pressing the gas pedal as we continued down the road. With each mile that passed, the pit in my stomach grew larger. It was unlikely that people would hate me when I walked in—how could they? Most of them wouldn't even know me. Yet, that didn't stop my mind from concocting all sorts of fictional scenarios.
"You know, the guys in the football group chat haven't stopped talking about you since the party," he told me softly. To Jeremiah, it might have sounded like an offhand comment, but it was a welcome one. People had liked me at the party, and I needed to remember that. No matter how many imaginary scenarios my brain conjured up, that wouldn't change overnight.
When we finally pulled up at the school, I felt like I could barely breathe. My gaze darted to the curly-haired boy sitting beside me. Of course, he was already waiting for me, a smile on his face. He reached out over the center console and took my hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Now I had two different kinds of butterflies.
"You're going to be fine, Bells," he assured me before turning off the car and hopping out.
Now was as good a time as any to follow his lead. I swung my door open to the lively chatter that was the first-day-of-school student parking lot. Jeremiah waited for me at the front of his Jeep, backpack slung around his shoulders and that signature grin on his face.
"Welcome to BCHS, Bells. I'll walk you to your first class, okay?" He was so sweet. Every time he spoke, it felt like he was melting my heart a little more
each day. Building up these walls was becoming increasingly difficult.
Just like at the party, we were greeted by all sorts of people. About fifteen minutes remained until the bell would ring, and students perched on their cars, ate breakfast at the picnic tables, and lingered in the parking lot.
Instead of heading straight for the door like I expected, we headed toward a table, and I followed him like a lost puppy. The closer we got to the picnic table, the more evident it became. I should have heard the football boys from a mile away with the way they were hooting and hollering.
"Oh, look who it is!" someone's voice called out, and heads turned in our direction.
"Belly!" a couple of boys came running right for me, not bothering to acknowledge their teammate beside me. I couldn't help but laugh, blushing from all the attention as they yelled out my name. I was pretty sure this was Ricky and Wade, but I might have mixed them up in my haze. Taylor and EJ sat together atop the picnic table, and EJ offered a small wave while his girlfriend bounded toward us.
"Back up, boys; she's mine this year!" she announced, pushing the two out of the way as they tried to claim their spots.
"Girl, you look so good, holy cow," she said, all while sporting the cutest blazer and skirt combo. I thanked her, leaving out how it reminded me of how the popular girls back home had attempted to style their uniforms—hers, however, was a pastel pink combo and much cuter.
"Let me see your schedule; I really, really hope we have classes together," she said, nearly snatching it from my hand excitedly. Through a series of squeals and big smiles, she seemed to take it as good news. Having a familiar face in my classes would be more than welcome.
"We have first block together with Mr. Saltzman. He's pretty chill, which is a blessing because first thing in the morning, I need time to inhale my coffee. But this means we can walk to class every morning together." One thing I had already learned about Taylor was that this girl could talk. I was pretty sure I wouldn't even have to open my mouth, and she'd somehow manage to carry on a whole conversation with me. But I didn't mind; her energy was contagious.
"I was going to walk Belly to her first class," Jeremiah chimed in, taking his place beside me again.
"No, I was going to walk Belly to class," Ricky teased, squeezing in between Jeremiah and me.
"You guys got it all wrong; I'm the one walking Belly to her class," Wade joined in, coming up from behind me and looping his big arms around my shoulders.
It felt good to belong, to feel wanted at school. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way. On my last day of school back home, I had done my absolute best to avoid every single one of my peers, just trying to get to class and get home. But here, as I walked down the hallway, it felt like nearly every set of eyes was on me, and I didn't shy away from it.
Taylor was on one side of me, Jeremiah on the other. EJ, Wade, Ricky, and some other football players trailed closely behind us, making sure to introduce me loudly to everyone in the hallway. If it had been anyone else, I might have hated it, but something about their antics felt natural, as though this was a regular occurrence in the hallway, and letting them have their fun was the key to fitting in around here.
The first three classes of the day, I had with Taylor, which was comforting. I could avoid the first-day-of-school stress of getting lost on campus and being late. She introduced me to her other friends—though she'd described them in the secretive text she sent me as strictly school and party friends, whatever that meant. So far, the day had gone well. I hadn't run into Lacie, and all of my teachers seemed nice enough. Lunch was the only part of my day that I was dreading, just a little.
School lunchrooms hadn't been very kind to me, and based on the movies and television shows I'd watched, American high school cafeterias didn't seem promising either. Although everyone breaking out into song and dance would be an experience, Taylor promised me that lunch would be a fun and uneventful forty minutes of our day.
She practically dragged me by my elbow all the way to the cafeteria, chattering about how much she missed EJ and couldn't wait to see him. I wished I could be annoyed, but truthfully, I felt the same way about Jeremiah. Taylor had been a great friendly face to have around, but no one made me feel as at ease and safe as he did.
"I saved you a seat, Bells," Jeremiah grinned, patting the cafeteria chair between him and Wade. Wade chimed in with a wink, "Yeah, I was the brains behind this operation, making sure you got the VIP treatment." Wade was a bit shorter than Jeremiah, but he must have been close to six feet, and his sturdy frame practically enveloped the small seat. His sandy hair and honey-brown eyes gave him a rugged charm, and there was a hint of a Southern drawl in his voice, despite being up North. Charming, for sure, but also a tad clumsy.
"So, how's your day shaping up? Feeling okay?" Jere’s words were hushed, as if no one else in the cafeteria existed. Amidst all the chaos and chatter at the table, Jeremiah's focus remained entirely on me.
"It's been interesting. Classes with Taylor were great, but the next three... well, I'm flying solo. We'll see how that goes," I admitted, not even bothering to mask my nerves. There was something about Jeremiah that made me feel like I didn't have to pretend, and no matter what, he had an uncanny knack for seeing right through me.
"Excuse me," a pointed finger tapped on my shoulder. I didn't even need to turn around to know who the grating voice belonged to. The way Jeremiah's body tensed up next to me didn't go unnoticed either.
She cleared her throat again, saying, "Excuse me, you're in my seat." This time, I didn't have the liquid courage to back me up, but the way everyone stared at me expectantly offered some vote of confidence. I couldn't stand there like a deer in the headlights.
"Lacie, right?" I smiled softly, only to be met with a narrowed glare.
"Well," I shrugged, smile still intact, "if Jeremiah and Wade want me to move, then the seat's all yours."
"Jerebear," she pleaded, the nickname making my stomach twist.
"I think I speak for the whole table when I say that we want Belly to sit with us. There's a space at the end, though," Wade said cheekily, beating Jeremiah to the punch. I could tell he was grateful from the way he relaxed when Lacie stormed away.
"Didn't you break up with her?" EJ questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"I did—yeah, but I guess she didn't believe it was for real this time," Jeremiah shrugged, his voice carrying a mixture of emotions, a slight slump in his posture.
"Oreo?" I asked, extending the chocolate cookie toward him, my brows furrowed as I willed him to smile with my mind. And as if on cue, he took the cookie with his teeth, a great big grin spreading across his face.
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jeremiah's pov
EJ's back-to-school party is usually always a blur, but last night was different. I remembered every moment so vividly. Last night, Belly and I finally shared a kiss, and it was everything I had hoped for. Sure, it happened in a coat closet in the midst of a wild party shortly after I'd broken up with Lacie, but it eclipsed all those other events.
Her lips were soft and sweet, and I felt like I could have stood in that closet forever, lost in the intoxicating blend of strawberry vodka and her signature citrus scent. We were in our own world, shielded from the cares of the outside. But, of course, I knew that eventually, we'd have to face the consequences of a night driven by alcohol. I just hoped we were on the same page.
Coming home was a bit of a blur, too. EJ didn't live far, so we walked back, but this morning, as I woke up in my own bed, I couldn't remember how we got here. Where was Belly? I couldn't fathom leaving her behind, no matter how inebriated I was.
I was just about to text her when I heard her laughter echoing from downstairs. Relief washed over me; her laughter was like music to my ears. There was something so genuine about it, making her laugh felt like a triumph.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, attempting to hide the hangover that was wreaking havoc on me. Dark circles under my eyes, unruly curls, and the remnants of last night's attire clung to me. How was Belly up and about so early?
I sped through most of my morning routine, making sure to give my teeth a thorough brushing. What if we kissed again? I couldn't risk bad breath.
"Good morning, sweetie," my mom greeted me, rising from her seat at the table to plant a kiss on my temple.
"Morning, Mom," I replied, hugging her quickly, a cheerful mood on full display today. Belly had everything to do with that. Since last night, I hadn't been able to wipe this silly grin off my face. Sleep hadn't helped either.
"Good morning, Bells," I sang, my eyes locked onto hers. But the way she looked at me, the unspoken energy between us, it gave me a gut feeling that I really, really didn't want.
"I was hoping you two could run to the store for me," my mom interjected, oblivious to the silent exchange between Belly and me.
"Sure, Mom. Just text me the list," I replied, finally tearing my eyes away from the brunette sitting across from me.
A little alone time might be what we needed, I thought. Perhaps I'd misinterpreted the way she looked at me. I couldn't be sure until we talked privately, so I grabbed my keys and glanced over at Belly.
"Ready to go?"
The car ride to the store was painfully quiet. Music played softly in the background, but neither of us dared to speak. The pit in my stomach grew, knowing that this conversation wouldn't lead to what I had hoped for.
"So, are we going to talk about it?" I began hesitantly, my voice trailing off as I half-heartedly perused the produce section.
"The kiss?" she asked softly, selecting an apple and placing it in her bag.
"Yeah, the kiss."
And then she sighed, and I knew it was time.
"I think it was a mistake. Not that I regret it, or that it was bad, but I just don't think I should be getting into anything right now. I'm sorry," she confessed.
I felt her brown eyes on the side of my face, and I turned to meet her gaze. There was an expression on her face, one I couldn't quite place. I wanted to ask her about it, but I didn't want to push her.
Maybe she was right; maybe Conrad was right when he warned me not to get involved. She had a whole school year to focus on, and dragging her into my world of problems didn't seem to be what she wanted. It was hard to accept, even though I couldn't stop thinking about her, day and night.
"I get it. I think you're right. We just got caught up in the moment, and the alcohol didn't help. We're all good, Bells," I lied, hiding my true feelings. We were fine, but I hadn't gotten "caught up."
I had imagined what it would be like to kiss Isabel Conklin since the day we picked her up from the airport. It was everything I'd expected and more, but she didn't feel the same way.
"Friends?" she asked quietly, her smile hopeful. Did she not realize that I'd take whatever part of her she offered? If that meant just being friends, I'd accept and cherish it, secretly hoping for more in the future.
"Don't be silly—best friends," I assured her with a heavy heart.
That heaviness lingered throughout the weekend, caught between wanting Belly all to myself and respecting her wishes while pretending to be cool with the rejection.
Sunday night approached faster than I wished it would. With the school year beginning, uninterrupted moments with Belly were coming to an end. Back to homework, Friday night football games, and high school drama. My excitement and anticipation swirled into one.
The night before school, I usually couldn't sleep, but just as my eyes were about to close, I heard Isabel's door creaking open. I contemplated getting up to check on her, but her soft knocks preceded any action on my part.
"Jere... are you awake?" Her voice trembled, and her tear-filled eyes were all I needed to see before I was sitting up, throwing my blankets aside.
"Bells, what's wrong?" I cooed, pulling her close and closing my bedroom door softly. My mom's room was on the other side of the house, and years of testing had proven she couldn't hear anything all the way up here, but I closed the door anyway.
"Talk to me. What's going on?" I whispered softly, but her voice seemed trapped, unable to escape her throat. Her breaths became more erratic, and her trembling frame shook in my arms, causing that same agonizing sensation in my chest as I watched her break down.
This was another panic attack, no doubt. I tried to remember the tips I had read on how to help someone through them, something I had looked up after her first one. I just wanted to be better prepared to support her.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly and focused on keeping my breaths even and steady for her to follow. I wondered if her anxiety was related to the first day of school. Her experiences before coming to Boston, whatever they were, must have left her terrified for her first day. Even though everyone loved her at the party on Friday night, there had to be something deeper.
People were excited to see me at the party, and for the first time, they weren't asking about my brother Conrad. But now, they would likely ask about Belly, and for some reason, that didn't bother me as much. Maybe it was because I really liked her.
"Hey, tell me about the outfit you picked for tomorrow. I know you and my mom spent a lot of time on it," I said, moving us to my bed. I sat on the edge, holding her close
against my chest, my hand gently making small circles on her back.
"Oh, well, it's like... it's like this sort of... um, it's a blue top, almost like a corset. Just plain white shorts, nothing too fancy," she stammered.
"Good, good. Would you believe me if I told you I haven't picked out an outfit yet?" I chuckled, noticing that she managed a faint smile.
"I haven't even looked at my schedule yet. I like to be surprised," I continued, rambling on about various topics to help divert her focus.
"Sorry if I woke you," she finally croaked softly. I couldn't help but wipe the tears that clung to her cheeks. Those eyes, deep and brown, with tears swirling, tugged at my heartstrings.
"You didn't," I assured her softly. "Do you want to go back to your room?" I didn't want to ask that. I wanted her to stay with me as long as possible.
"Could I just stay in here with you for a little while, if that's okay?"
"More than okay. Come here."
We lay side by side, our faces inches apart. I didn't want the morning to come; I didn't want to go to school. Her hand found mine, and we kept talking about anything and everything until sleep overcame us both.
When I woke up in the morning, she was gone, and a single text message waited for me:
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belly's pov
I'd never really been into drinking, or maybe it was more accurate to say I'd never tried it before. But as I stood there, emotions swirling inside me like a tornado, all I could think was that now was as good a time as any to give it a shot. I couldn't quite put my finger on what had come over me. Maybe it was the fear of yet another school year being ruined by people who walked all over me. Or perhaps it was the green-eyed monster that reared its head when Lacie claimed Jeremiah like he was the last slice of cake in the bakery.
Whatever it was, it had unleashed a side of me that felt entirely unfamiliar. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but instead of dwelling on it, I decided to live in the moment. I took the shot Wade offered me, not bothering to see what Jeremiah had chosen to do. If he wanted to go with her, that was his choice.
Turns out, alcohol tasted disgusting. Like battery acid sliding down my throat, causing waves of discomfort in my stomach. I winced, crinkling my eyes shut and attempting to wipe away any lingering liquid that hadn't quite made it into my mouth. Seriously, what was all the buzz about?
"Atta girl! Belly here is going to be the best thing that happened to BCHS," Wade declared triumphantly, his arm around me. How could it bother me when everyone around us was celebrating me? It was a foreign but exhilarating feeling.
"I still can't believe you said that to Lacie; it was legendary," EJ shook his head. Taylor, resting her head on EJ's shoulder, sat across his lap. They were the kind of cute couple you only saw in movies—both athletic, both popular, and neither of them mean. I couldn't help but envy them a little.
I still didn't feel like I'd said anything that impactful to Lacie. Maybe I'd been a tad petty, but I hadn't cursed her or insulted her; I was just brutally honest. Jeremiah hadn't mentioned her. Actually, until tonight, I'd never even thought he had a girlfriend. He was just so good at making me feel like I was the only person who existed when we were together.
"Belly babes, I know I already said it, but you're like, for real, my new BFF," Taylor chimed in. "Seriously, I need a lot more feminine energy around when I'm hanging out with these dumbos."
It dawned on me that I was becoming the girl at the American high school who was best friends with all the football players. Invited to all their parties, sitting at their table—it all felt a little surreal. It was like my life was being plucked straight from a movie. So when Wade came around with another round of shots, I didn't hesitate; I happily took it. This time, the battery acid was more muted—still not great, but the floaty feeling that had started to infiltrate my body felt better.
"Has anyone seen Jeremiah?" The words tumbled from my lips before I could even think. I was pretty sure my cheeks were burning, but I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the embarrassment that people now knew I had Jeremiah on my mind.
"I don't think he's come back down since going up with Lacie, babe," Taylor frowned, looking toward the stairs.
I had practically encouraged him to go upstairs with her, suggesting they find a more private spot to talk. I had no right to be jealous, but I couldn't help feeling a little green.
"Yo, Belly, have you ever played beer pong?" Ricky called out, though I was still unsure if that was his name. But thanks to the alcohol, I felt more confident, so until told otherwise, that's what I was going with.
"I haven't, but I think I could figure it out," I smiled, pushing off the kitchen counter. If Jeremiah got to have some fun, then so did I. Of course, my idea of fun was worlds different from what was probably happening behind those closed doors upstairs.
"I'm the beer pong champion; you couldn't have lucked out on a better teacher," he winked, holding his arm out for me. I gratefully latched onto it, my wobbly feet finding newfound support. As we navigated through the partygoers, all eyes were on me this time, not because I was with Jeremiah, but because I was with Ricky. People were actually looking at me this time. So I smiled and waved, the alcohol helping me uncover a newfound confidence I'd yet to explore.
He led me down to the finished basement, which was decked out with various games. EJ must've been loaded.
"Bowen, who's the new girl?" a guy asked, sitting with a few others and some girls around the beer pong table.
"Fishers' new exchange student, everyone meet Belly!" Ricky nudged me forward with a big grin on his face.
"In the flesh," I laughed, unsure of what else to say. But Ricky stepped in, slinging his arm around me proudly. What was it with these guys?
"She's gonna be my pong partner, and we're going to annihilate you, just like she did to Lacie Barone." That certainly got everyone's attention.
As Ricky set up the game and explained the rules, it seemed easy enough. I'd seen it done in movies and figured I wouldn't be great at it. Ricky tried to prepare me, but his words of encouragement flowed endlessly. They must've been magic because on my very first attempt, the ball sank into the first cup.
"Oh, she's damn good!" someone else yelled out as my third throw of the night landed in another cup. Ricky was ecstatic, claiming I was carrying our team. A crowd had formed around the table as everyone watched. I couldn't help wishing Jeremiah was here with me, though. Maybe it was the two cups of beer I'd had, but the feeling was undeniable.
We won, which wasn't a surprise to anyone. Ricky begged me to play another game, but I told him I'd come back; I had to pee—really, I felt like I might pee my pants. But it hadn't occurred to me as I climbed the stairs back to the first floor that I had no idea where I was going.
Eventually, I found a bathroom, thanks to some helpful girls who pointed me in the right direction. As I lingered at the stairway back to the basement, my gaze wandered to the stairs where Jeremiah had disappeared earlier.
Navigating the second set of stairs proved more challenging with my tipsy feet. I kept my hand gripping the railing, eyeing the top of the stairs. My last step proved treacherous, and I expected to hit the floor, embarrassing myself, but I never did.
"You don't have to hurt yourself to get my attention, Bells." A familiar voice sent chills down my spine, and butterflies danced in my stomach.
"I was looking for you," I stammered, staring up into his ocean-blue eyes. Suddenly, I forgot my resolution to be just friends with Jeremiah. How could I think that when he looked like this, when he looked at me like this?
"Funny because I was just coming to look for you," he quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He helped me fully to my feet, our hands lingering on each other's for longer than necessary. The only thing that snapped me out of my Jeremiah-induced trance was the sound of heels clicking down the hallway, approaching us.
Jeremiah cursed under his breath, words I couldn't quite hear, and before I knew it, he was tugging us into a hall closet, shutting the door behind us.
"Jeremiah, what the—" I started to protest, but he gently clamped his hand over my mouth.
"I just ended things with Lacie, and I don't think the next two faces she needs to see are ours," he whispered.
The clicking of Lacie's heels grew closer and closer. All we could do was keep our eyes locked onto each other's. Had he really pulled us into a closet to avoid his ex-girlfriend?
It was then that I realized how close we were, his hand still covering my mouth, the other resting on the side of my waist. We stood there silently, waiting for the sound of her shoes to click down the wooden staircase. It wasn't until the clicking faded that Jeremiah finally spoke.
"Sorry, that was kind of dumb. I just... I literally just ended things, and she's got a bit of a jealousy thing. Sorry, I probably should have—" he began to ramble on, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't.
Not when we were pressed so closely together, not when I could smell the detergent mixing with his cologne. Not when his hand still covered my mouth.
"Jeremiah," I interrupted him, my own hand coming up to grab his. Instead of letting go, I held onto it, tugging him to get his attention.
"You don't need to apologize; it's fine. Are you okay?" It was genuinely fine, even funny that this had been his first instinct. I understood the sentiment.
"Yeah, I'm okay. It's been a long time coming," he sighed, and I found myself frowning slightly. I wondered what their relationship had been like. In my very biased opinion, Jeremiah deserved the best, and, although I hated to admit it, Lacie seemed far from it.
"Why now, then?"
He stared at me for a moment. "Just felt right, I guess."
I stared back, my gaze flitting between his lips and his eyes. "That's all?" I asked, glancing down at our fingers, which were now intertwined.
"Maybe," he offered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.
There was a moment of silence—or as much silence as the closet could offer us from the party raging outside. We stood there, quietly taking each other in, illuminated by the sliver of light seeping through the door's cracks. I could still make out his eyes and the way the curls framed his face like a work of art.
"Are you ever going to kiss me?" I said, finally breaking the silence.
His response was straightforward, just the way I wanted it, and not a word left his lips. Instead, his hand untangled from mine, finding a spot at the small of my back and pulling me flush against his chest. His lips were soft, and the fruity alcohol we'd been drinking earlier lingered on them.
I felt his free hand cup the side of my jaw, pushing us further against the coats hanging on the rack. I could feel some of the hangers crashing to the floor, but I couldn't bring myself to care. There were a couple of things I should probably care about right now. For starters, I shouldn't be kissing Jeremiah Fisher in this coat closet at a party.
But then again, I was finally kissing Jeremiah, and his lips were just as soft as I had imagined they would be, if not more. I'd gone to my first real high school party, made friends, and there was nothing that could ruin the night for me. I could deal with the consequences of my actions tomorrow.
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jeremiah's pov
I was teetering on the edge of a maddening blend of emotions, an array of feelings I couldn't quite decipher. The party had been an unexpected whirlwind of excitement so far. My friends seemed to have taken to Belly, some of them perhaps a bit too eagerly for my comfort, though I couldn't bring myself to voice my concerns. It wasn't my place.
Ever since the conversation I'd had with Conrad outside our house in Cousins, I'd had ample time to reflect. I despised it when my brother was right, especially when he chose to be smug and manipulative rather than straightforward. But now, he was safely tucked away at Brown, a much-needed respite after eighteen years of being inseparable.
And now, there was someone new in my life. Someone who was electrifying, enchanting, and utterly intimidating – Belly.
Since our return to Boston, she had occupied far more of my thoughts than I cared to admit. Even with grueling preseason football workouts relentlessly pummeling me, my mind always seemed to drift back to that dark-haired girl and what she might be up to. My coach had taken to smacking my helmet as a persistent reminder to focus. My teammates teased me relentlessly, suggesting I would fall in love with my exchange "sister," which couldn't have been further from the truth regarding my relationship with Belly. At this point, we barely had one, contrary to what I had envisioned after that unforgettable night at the gala. Despite her monopolizing my thoughts, I only encountered her during breakfast and dinner. It was frustrating, but maybe this distance was my way of shielding her from harm.
I had already planned to invite Belly to the party, so Mom's caveat didn't surprise me. School had been stressful, and socializing outside of class was a welcomed change of pace. The football team had been relentlessly urging me all week to bring her to our quarterback EJ's legendary bash.
One thing I had conveniently forgotten about was Lacie. Typically, when I returned home from Cousins, whether we were fighting or in a good place, we would reconnect. But with workouts and, well, Belly, I hadn't even informed Lacie that I was home, and she hadn't reached out to me.
I felt like I had been caught red-handed, doing something I shouldn't, by the way she glared at Belly and me. The truth was, I hadn't done anything wrong, except perhaps being overly touchy with Belly. However, it seemed like the only way to deter my misguided teammates from thinking they could flirt with her, even if she was completely and utterly single.
"Oh, that's so funny, Jere never mentioned you this summer. Nice to meet you, though," Belly responded, and I was tempted to laugh. The rest of the kitchen erupted into hushed snickers. Those outside these walls remained blissfully unaware of the spectacle inside. I wished I could have joined them, played beer pong in the basement, or done anything other than be one of Lacie's targets.
I should have briefed Belly about Lacie, but I didn't know how. Not because I was two-timing anyone, but because Lacie and I had always been incredibly complicated. And at the time of Belly's arrival, we weren't even dating. Heck, we still weren't dating now.
"Jeremiah, tell her," Lacie insisted, her confidence growing as she expected my response. Belly had taken a step back from me, extending her hand toward Lacie, leaving me feeling exposed.
"I mean—" I started to say, scratching the back of my neck. I didn't want to embarrass her in front of everyone, but I also couldn't bring myself to lie. Not to Belly. Even if it didn't matter, given we were just friends. But Belly stepped in, saving me with her words.
"Dating or not, it doesn't really matter to me! This sounds like a conversation you two might want to have in private. This is supposed to be a party, right?" Her voice was gentle and sweet, and her smile, oh, it was sincere. She had taken the high road, which I knew must have irked Lacie to no end.
"Hell yeah, it's a party! I like this girl, Fisher!" Wade chimed in, holding out shots he had poured, stepping between Belly and me as he handed them out to everyone around. He then added with a wink, "I'd give one to you, but I've got this feeling you're about to be dragged away on your leash." He glanced at Lacie and then back to our friends, slinging his arm around Belly's shoulders.
Lacie cleared her throat and stood opposite me, arms folded, and foot tapping impatiently. I didn't want to go with her; I wanted to stay with Belly. I could see her face crinkling up from the shot she had just taken. I had promised my mom I would ensure Belly was okay and enjoying herself.
"Jeremiah, seriously?" Lacie whined, stomping her foot like a toddler. Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze away from Belly and followed Lacie up the stairs toward the den.
"What the hell was that?" Lacie slammed the door shut behind us, and I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone upstairs heard it. There was a time when her assertiveness would have excited me, knowing it would eventually lead to an intimate rendezvous, but now I just wanted to get this conversation over with and rejoin the party, my friends, and Belly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, the combination of alcohol in my system and my growing irritation creating an ugly mix. Lacie's eyes bore into me as she glared.
"Why didn't you tell that Beatrice—"
"Belly," I corrected her. "Well, actually Isabel, but Belly."
"I don't care what her name is, Jeremiah. Why didn't you tell her we were together?" She snapped, moving closer, her voice tinged with venom.
"Because we're not, Lacie. You broke up with me right before summer break because I went to Carmen Christie's graduation party with my mom." Saying it out loud made me cringe. Had that really been the reason we broke up?
"Well, yeah, everyone knows Carmen Christie was obsessed with you! Why would I want my boyfriend going to her party?" She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Because you trust me? And because her mom and my mom are friends, and I couldn't get out of it?" I responded, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. I was so over this.
"Well, how come you didn't invite me to go with you?" She asked after a pause.
"Because Carmen Christie hates you, and you hate her? This is all common knowledge, Lace." I didn't add that my mom disliked her too; that just felt like rubbing salt in the wound.
"Okay, so we can both see that tensions were high and mistakes were made. So why can't we just kiss and make up?" She tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling herself closer. I found myself looking anywhere but at her.
"I don't know, Lace. I think I'm done for real this time." I heard her sniffle, and I couldn't help but look down. I hated myself the moment I did.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. "This summer was so hard for me," she sniffled. "My parents argued the entire time we were on our cruise to Bora-Bora, and then my dad left us once we were in Europe, and I didn't see him until we got back home." She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a hug.
"I just missed you so much. I'm sorry I didn't call." I sighed, stroking circles on her back. Even if she had called, with Belly around, I wasn't sure I would have answered; I was pretty preoccupied.
We sat there for a while; my phone buzzed in my back pocket, but I didn't want to be rude. "Feeling better?" I asked softly, my arms going numb from the way she leaned against them. She nodded, wiping away the last remnants of tears.
"I've got to go check on Belly, make sure she's doing okay. But I'm glad we talked." I nodded, releasing her and heading toward the door.
"You're really leaving me here crying to check on some girl nicknamed after a body part?" She snapped, her earlier sadness replaced with venom. Had she even been genuinely upset in the first place?
"I have to, Lacie. I can't just leave her to fend for herself." Once again, I bit my tongue, refraining from saying that I wanted to, that I wanted nothing more than to be with my friends and Belly, and not her.
She bit her lip, examining me for a moment. I had no idea what was going on behind those golden eyes, but from what I was learning, it couldn't be anything good.
"But we're okay, right? Like, back together now?" She finally asked.
"We're okay, Lacie. But no, we're not back together. I'm done for real this time," I said softly, opening the door and walking out. I couldn't bear to turn around; if she was crying, I'd feel bad and be tempted to go back. So, I kept my eyes ahead, intent on finding the girl who hadn't left my thoughts all evening.
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bellys pov
The pulsating rhythm of music reverberated from somewhere down the street, creating a contagious buzz of anticipation in the air. As I gazed at the constant stream of people flowing in and out, red solo cups in hand, I couldn't help but wonder two things: how did they escape the fear of getting caught, and was this really my life now?
We were back in Boston, Conrad at Brown, and after the moment Jeremiah and I shared in the pool, we hadn't broached the subject again. Even the next morning, when I couldn't help but let my eyes linger on him a second longer than I should have, he didn't return the glance. At that moment, I concluded that perhaps the universe had done me a favor by intervening, saving me from a potential disaster.
Conrad had left for Brown straight from Cousins, leaving Susannah and me to pile into Jeremiah's jeep. Thankfully, Susannah suffered from motion sickness and claimed the passenger seat, granting me the solitude of the back row. It was a relief, sparing me from reliving the night in the Sonic car park and worrying about her catching me staring at him.
The following days were a whirlwind of preparation for the new school year. Despite having packed enough clothes, Susannah insisted on taking me shopping, Jeremiah dove into football practices, and life became a blur of busyness. But it was good; Jeremiah and I eventually found our rhythm over those last few days. I envisioned our school year to be like this, sharing breakfasts in the morning, attending classes separately, and reuniting at the dinner table to recount our days—a friendship that merely grazed the surface, and that was fine with me. This way, my heart remained safely guarded.
Then, suddenly, it was Thursday night, and we were all gathered on the sofa, devouring Chinese takeout. Just three days separated me from my first day at a Boston high school. Jeremiah subtly suggested attending the back-to-school party thrown by his football buddy, EJ. Susannah didn't object, but there was one condition—I had to accompany him.
And that's how I found myself outside a seemingly enormous house, presumably EJ's. I had never been to a real party before. Sure, I'd seen them in movies, and I'd been to birthday parties, but this was different. It was a bit scary, meeting my new peers outside the school hallways, where they could pass judgment that might stick with me for the whole year. I was nervous.
"It'll be fine, Bells. Come on," Jeremiah encouraged me as my feet slowed to a halt on the pavement a few houses down.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the lively scene ahead. Now, I was staring into those mesmerizing ocean eyes, the world fading away despite my silent pleas.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a soft, quiet voice. I knew he wanted to go, but I also knew that if I wanted to leave, we'd turn around and head back home. Not just because that's what Susannah wanted, but because that's who Jeremiah was as a person.
So I nodded, mustering up the brightest smile I could manage before placing both hands on his solid stomach, gently urging him toward the party.
"Come on, it's now or never, Fisher," I sighed. It was more for me than him, but he didn't need to know that.
"Fisher, my boy!" a booming voice echoed from the front porch of the house, followed by an even larger figure charging toward us. Jeremiah was on the ground in an instant, barely avoiding a collision with the running man by an inch. I stood in the wet grass, watching as a group of other guys joined in the fun. The football team, I presumed.
"Guys, you saw me like five hours ago at practice," Jeremiah laughed, fending them off with that smile I couldn't tear my eyes away from.
I felt a bit foolish just standing there, like an intruder on this moment. A mere chaperone to the festivities or a wallflower nobody noticed. I couldn't blame them; no one expected me, and for all they knew, I was just some girl walking down the sidewalk.
"Oh, shit, you're Belly!" one of the guys exclaimed. Dark-haired, perfectly styled, hazel eyes—captivating, although not quite like Jeremiah's.
The six boys, who had been a heap on the floor a moment ago, now turned their heads, and twelve eyes focused on me. My cheeks burned brighter than ever. All I could manage was a shy smile, resisting the urge to fiddle with the frayed edges of my denim shorts.
"Dude, she's hot, you're so right," one of them whispered not so quietly. The rest of them swarmed around me, all talking at once, a flurry of names thrown my way—EJ, Ricky, Wade, Brad, or maybe Chad? Perhaps Milo? It was overwhelming.
"Guys, back the hell up. Give her some space. You'll have plenty of time to get to know her." Jeremiah stepped in front of me, pushing two guys back slightly, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Some grumbled under their breath, but they all retreated, sneaking glances at me before heading into the house.
"Sorry about them; they're all a little excited," he laughed, brushing off his pants. "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone properly."
He slung an arm around my shoulder, leading the way into the grand house. I felt eyes on us, perhaps because I was new, or perhaps it was because I was with Jeremiah.
Soon enough, I realized it was the latter. Everyone seemed to know him. Girls waved, boys greeted him with handshakes, and people in the hallway greeted him with smiles. I shouldn't have been surprised; his personality was infectious, impossible not to like.
"Oh, Lacie is going to hate this," the guy I believed was EJ mused, handing us two solo cups. His gaze shifted to me and Jeremiah, their proximity not going unnoticed.
Who was Lacie, and why would she hate this? Jeremiah's arms released me to take the cups, one for me and the other for him. I could smell the pink liquid from here, reeking of alcohol. I wanted to tell Jeremiah I'd never had a drink before, but now didn't seem like the time. So instead, I kept the cup in my hand, far from my lips.
"Well, she's not here right now, and it doesn't matter because Lacie and I are done, have been for a while," Jeremiah stated firmly, speaking as if it were an undeniable truth. The guys all laughed. I hoped he hadn't had a girlfriend all this time; that would have been messed up.
"Who's Lacie?" I asked, and a dozen eyes darted back to me. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
One guy appeared from around the corner of the kitchen island, casually draping his arm around me, just like Jeremiah had. This was Wade, I think.
"Lacie is Jeremiah's—what's the opposite of a pain in the neck?" he turned to ask his friends, eliciting a chorus of laughter. "Actually, Jeremiah is Lacie's pain in the neck. She leads this guy around like a dog, and they break up every other month."
"Shut the hell up, Wade, and get off her," Jeremiah snapped, rolling his eyes as he downed the contents of his cup. Wade raised his hands in surrender, winking at me before retreating to the other side of the counter.
So Jeremiah was involved with someone, which was just great—really, it didn't bother me at all. Maybe she'd become a built-in girlfriend for me, making it easier to let go of whatever was happening between Jeremiah and me. Or maybe I'd just be jealous.
"Well, I can't wait to meet her," I smiled softly, pushing my full cup toward Jeremiah, who looked like he could use another drink right about now.
"Oh, I think you'll regret saying that," another guy chimed in—maybe Ricky?
"Yeah, if I were you, I'd keep a one-mile distance between you and Lacie," another guy added, perhaps that was Ricky. Whoever he was, he laughed and leaned against the counter across from me.
"I don't know who we're talking about, but if the answer is to avoid Lacie, I always vote yes," a voice sounded from behind me.
A short girl strolled over, hopping onto the countertop beside me before pressing her lips to EJ's in front of us all—a very public display, to say the least.
"Oh my god, you're Belly! Babe, why didn't you tell me she was here? I'm being, like, so rude right now," she whined, her eyes landing on me. She was incredibly pretty, with blondish wavy hair and an athletic frame on her petite body. She hopped off the counter in seconds, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug, displaying remarkable strength for someone so small.
"I'm Taylor Jewel, your new neighbor and best friend," she declared with unshakable confidence. It seemed like she could walk into any room and make people fall in love with her. I couldn't help but laugh.
"I could definitely use a friend this year, I think, or a couple," I replied, glancing around at the boys who watched us with eager smiles. My mind was finally starting to ease.
"Back off, TayTay. Bells is my best friend. You can be second best," Jeremiah declared, slinging his arm around me once more, pulling my back flush against his chest. EJ protested in the background, claiming that he was Jeremiah's best friend. All I could do was laugh; maybe this school year would be even better than I anticipated.
"Jerebear!" a shrill voice called out above the booming music surrounding us. Everyone groaned, and Wade mouthed the word "run" to me, but it was already too late.
At first, I don't think she could see me. To be fair, I was still pressed up against Jeremiah, and he towered over me, obscuring my presence. Her voice cut short as she came around from behind us, her eyes finally landing on me.
This was precisely the girl I had expected Jeremiah to be with—tall, blonde, legs like a supermodel. She had pretty pink lips and eyes that were almost golden. Those eyes narrowed as they scanned me, taking in the proximity between me and Jeremiah.
"Who's this?" she asked, her lips forming a tight smile, her voice oozing with sickening sweetness. She waited expectantly for Jeremiah to say something—anything—but it was as if he had suddenly lost his ability to speak.
"Oh—uh, Belly! The Fisher's exchange student this year," I filled the awkward silence, pulling away from Jeremiah's grip and extending a hand toward her. She never took it, instead flashing me a condescending smile—one that made me feel small, a feeling I vowed not to let define me this year.
"I'm Lacie," she said tightly, her eyes shifting back up to Jeremiah. "His girlfriend," she clarified. If this had happened before I heard Jeremiah's confident denial, I might have believed her. If she had shaken my hand, I might have been more forgiving. But instead, I offered her my best smile.
"Oh, that's so funny, Jere never mentioned you this summer. Nice to meet you, though."
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jeremiah’s pov
Naturally, Conrad had to swoop in and ruin the moment, as if it were scripted in some cruel teenage drama. Honestly, by now, I couldn't even muster surprise. Any shock I felt was due to what had almost transpired between Belly and me – again.
After a week of her expertly dodging every attempt I'd made to get closer, we had somehow ended up back in the pool together, just inches away from locking our lips. I had been so close to kissing her, mere seconds away. I bet her lips tasted like sweet citrus, just like the lingering scent that followed her around.
I followed my brother with purposeful strides, intent on catching up with him as he made his way to the front of the house. If he had been closer, he might have heard the grumbling and cursing I directed at him under my breath.
My devotion to my mom had forced me out of the pool. I was an unapologetic mama's boy, and there was no denying it. If she needed help, she got it – even if it came at the cost of her inadvertently cockblocking me.
Except, she wasn't at the front of the house or in the car. Conrad's car remained locked, and I could see her moving about the house through the open blinds. An unexplainable anger began to bubble within me as I turned to my brother.
He stood there with his arms folded, looking almost amused – mostly annoyed, but definitely with a hint of amusement.
"What the hell, Conrad?" I asked, giving him approximately five seconds in my head to come up with a damn good explanation for dragging me out of the pool.
"I should be asking you the same thing, man," he replied, his gaze hardening as he stared at me expectantly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped, my hands falling to my sides. Was this about Belly?
"Don't be stupid; I saw the two of you," he stated matter-of-factly, fueling my anger. Not only had he witnessed what was about to happen, but he had blatantly prevented it.
"So, you were jealous?"
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Jere, you have no business messing around with her."
He conspicuously avoided the question, deflecting it back onto me. "And who died and put you in charge of who I can and can't be involved with?" I retorted, resentment seeping into my voice. I despised anyone telling me what to do in any capacity, and having Conrad dictate my love life infuriated me.
"Jeremiah, do I have to spell it out for you?" he laughed bitterly, taking a step closer to me.
"Do it," I challenged him.
"You have no business getting involved with her that way. You've got all your Lacie bullshit going on, and dragging Belly into that mess and that cycle is not okay."
I laughed even more bitterly than he did, if that was possible. It always came back to Lacie with him and my mom.
"Lacie and I are not together, Conrad," I asserted, and it was the truth. I hadn't even talked to her since the beginning of the summer.
"As if that's supposed to mean something to me? You'll get back to school, and you'll be back with her. What will happen to Belly? You'll just cast her aside... or worse, you'll parade her around for a couple of weeks, long enough for Lacie to hate her and then treat her like shit all school year long?"
I scrutinized him for a moment, unwilling to admit that he was right, though it stung because he was. At least, he was right about Lacie being horrible to Belly. Lacie wasn't exactly known for being nice to any girl who looked at me for too long. Before I could respond, Conrad kept talking.
"I'm sure you can keep it in your pants just this once."
My face contorted with anger, and any residual resentment from the logic Conrad had thrown at me resurfaced.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I shot back, though I enjoyed my fair share of casual flings, I didn't see a problem with that. I never misled anyone and was always upfront.
"It just means that you flirt with everyone who breathes. Come on, this can't seriously be surprising for you."
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I like her?" I fought back, feeling a bit helpless against my older brother.
"Jere... you like everyone. You're not the right fit for her. Just let it go," he advised confidently, as if everything he was saying was irrefutable truth.
"And who is? You?" I said, my anger flaring. Jealousy had to be the only explanation for this whole debacle; it was the only thing that made sense.
"We're not talking about me; we're talking about you," he dodged the question once more, raising more red flags.
"Well, I'm glad to know you think so little of me," I shook my head, done with this conversation and done with him. I had heard enough. Conrad had given me plenty to mull over.
Lacie remained the primary source of stress. In the past week, we had been in our cousins' bubble, and while I had thought of Lacie once or twice, when Isabel was around, she was all but forgotten. To be fair, we weren't together, and until now, I hadn't contemplated what the future held for us.
Until Belly, it hadn't mattered.
Maybe Conrad was even more correct – perhaps I wouldn't be good for her. Seeing her cry tonight had been a gut-wrenching experience, and though I knew I would never intentionally hurt her, I never wanted to be the reason behind her tears. I couldn't handle that.
Sighing, I leaned against the side of the house, my fingers tugging at my wet, curly hair. Maybe something about Isabel and me felt special, like we understood each other in a way most people didn't. But perhaps that was merely my overactive imagination. Maybe all I was destined for was complicated on-and-off relationships. Maybe it was better when Belly was avoiding me.
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bellys pov
I couldn't help but wonder if we'd arrive back at the beach house before Susannah and Conrad. I had this inkling that Susannah was the type to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, leaving poor Conrad to deal with the cleanup. Jere and I had spent plenty of time in that Sonic parking lot.
Tonight had taken a toll on my emotions. Even as we drove back towards the beach house, my mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. But now, instead of dwelling on what once was, there was a curly-haired fisher boy who had taken up residence in my thoughts, as if he'd paid rent to occupy the space in my brain.
All week, I'd tried to keep him at arm's length, attempting to shield myself from his charms. Tonight, however, had shattered all those barriers I'd built up. I'd worked diligently to construct those walls, to keep Jeremiah from worming his way into my heart, but it seemed all that effort had been in vain.
He wasn't like Conrad, who knew exactly how to handle a panic attack. But that was fine; I didn't need or want him to know what I was dealing with. I was grateful that he had been willing to work through it with me, making me feel less alone when I had felt small.
Maybe I had approached this all wrong with him. Perhaps instead of keeping him at a distance, I needed to find a way to be his friend. Jeremiah had a natural flirtatiousness about him, and I had noticed that throughout the week. So maybe, if I could remind myself that his charm wasn't unique to me, we could build on the friendship that we both seemed to desire.
We only had one more full day in Cousins before heading back to Boston, and strangely, a part of me was sad about it. The more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed. My exchange year here was far from over; in fact, I hadn't even started school yet. So why was I feeling this way?
"Hey, Bells, we're here," Jeremiah's gentle touch roused me from my thoughts. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the darkness around us, with only the porch light providing any illumination.
I hadn't realized I had curled into myself and fallen asleep. In fact, I hadn't even felt tired. Jeremiah's suit jacket had been draped over me like a blanket, and I found myself fighting back a smile.
"I can carry you all the way back inside if you'd like," he offered. It was a ludicrous suggestion, but he seemed genuinely willing to do it. I sat up, shaking my head and blinking away grogginess.
"I can walk," I assured him, searching his jeep for my heels and phone.
"I've got them," he said, as if he had read my mind, holding up my heels and phone.
"Thank you," I replied softly. He extended his arm, hands full, and I grabbed onto it, pulling myself out of his jeep. Conrad's Range Rover hadn't arrived in the driveway yet, which confirmed my earlier suspicion that he and Susannah were still at the country club.
"Do you want to join me for a swim?"
Jeremiah looked at me with a hint of incredulity, as if he couldn't believe I was actually offering. Honestly, I could barely believe it myself. Everything about this screamed bad idea. We both knew how the last night swim had ended, so why was I setting us up for a repeat?
"One of your sacred night swims?" he gasped dramatically, his hand over his heart as if it were a tremendous honor.
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Oh, shut up."
"I'd love to join you. Meet you at the pool in five?" It was phrased as a question, but Jeremiah practically dashed up the stairs before I could answer, eager to change into his swim attire. I followed more slowly behind him, laughing at his enthusiasm.
Staring at myself in the vanity mirror felt like a jump scare. Mascara had streaked down my cheeks, my eye shadow was smudged, and my hair was a disheveled mess. Sighing, I grabbed a makeup wipe from the pack Susannah had given me and cleared my face of the makeup disaster.
As I attempted to remove the dress, I realized that Susannah had zipped me up before she left earlier, and I had no idea if I'd be able to unzip it myself. I twisted and turned, attempting all sorts of contortions to free myself from the satiny fabric, but it seemed hopeless. That left me with only one option.
"Jeremiah?" I called out, walking to open my bedroom door, only to find him standing there already.
"I promise I wasn't standing here like a weirdo; I was just about to knock," he hurriedly assured me, just as taken aback as I was when I pulled the door open.
"Why are you still in your dress?" he frowned, folding his arms across his bare chest. I wasn't superficial, but I couldn't deny that he looked stunning – the way his swim trunks hugged his hips, his defined abs.
"Earth to Belly," he waved his hand in front of my face, his cocky grin spreading like the Cheshire cat's.
"Oh, um, I need help with the zipper in the back," I stammered, trying to recover from being caught in a daydream of sorts.
"Oh, yeah, I can do that."
I'm not sure what he expected me to say, but I could tell from the way his cheeks turned red that he hadn't anticipated my request. It was a simple zipper, really, but as he stood behind me, I could feel his presence, and heat was rising to my cheeks.
I pulled my hair over my shoulder, giving him more room to work. His fingers were gentle with the soft fabric, fumbling slightly with the small zipper on the dress until he had a good grip. As the zipper lowered, every inch it passed sent shivers down my spine.
"There you go," he whispered softly, stepping back. Words were lodged in my throat, and I tried to swallow them down, but it was no use. So instead, I just smiled. Jeremiah headed for the door.
"See you downstairs?"
"Mhm."
My bathing suit felt much more comfortable than the dress that now hung in my closet. But it certainly wasn't as beautiful. In this, I just reverted back to plain old Isabel.
Jeremiah was already in the pool, eyes closed and arms splayed out like a starfish. He hadn't seen or heard me come out yet, and for a moment, I contemplated running back inside. This was a bad idea, and our original plan was to stick to the script – to keep him at arm's length, not too close but not entirely shut out.
But then his eyes fluttered open, landing on me. There was no turning back now. I dropped my towel on a nearby chaise and made a running jump into the water, causing a sizable splash that disturbed his peace.
"Hi, Bells," he greeted cheerfully, wiping water droplets from his face, thanks to my splash.
"Fisher," I quipped back, disappearing beneath the water's surface and swimming in the opposite direction. When I resurfaced for air, the curly-haired boy was nowhere to be seen. What thehell?
"Are you trying to avoid me?" his voice came from behind me as he surfaced.
"Maybe," I admitted boldly, locking eyes with his bright blue ones. He was going to be the death of me, no doubt.
"I'm hurt. What did I ever do to you?" He swam a little closer to me, and though I took a step back, nothing about my expression told him to stop.
"You're being you," I countered, trying to suppress a smile and feign nonchalance, but failing miserably.
"And what's so wrong with me?" he tilted his head. "Because I've had this sneaking suspicion all week that you've been avoiding me," he said, his voice low, his gaze unwavering.
My back was now against the edge of the pool, and I had nowhere left to retreat. Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to, despite knowing that this was a terrible idea.
"Nothing's wrong with you."
A knowing smile played on his lips, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from them.
"So then why avoid me, Isabel?"
He took another step closer, inches away from me now.
"Because," I began, my answer sounding weak.
His arms landed on either side of the pool wall behind me, and his eyes alternated between my lips and my eyes. I knew he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him.
A throat clearing in the background startled us apart. Conrad stood there, his expression unrecognizable. It was probably just tiredness from what must have been a long night for him.
"We're back, and Mom needs help bringing things in. So, get dried off and come on, Jere," he instructed, a hint of sharpness in his voice.
Conrad didn't look at me; it was as if I didn't even exist. His gaze remained locked on Jeremiah, a look that I was grateful not to be on the receiving end of. I had no idea why he appeared so upset, but I hoped he was okay. I'd have to ask him later.
Jeremiah glanced from me to Conrad, letting out a groan as he offered me a half-hearted smile. He followed his brother's orders, hopping out of the pool and leaving me there. Perhaps all of this had happened for a reason. Maybe it was the universe's way of telling me that I had no business kissing Jeremiah Fisher. Maybe I needed to listen.
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jeremiah’s pov
The Sunshine Boy, that's what my mom used to call me. I'd always been the easy-going kid, known for shedding tears when physically hurt but not much else in terms of negative emotions. So, when Belly collapsed in my arms, emotions cascading like a waterfall, I was struck by a whirlwind of unfamiliar feelings. If witnessing Lacie cry had been tough, this was a whole new level of heartache. She refused to disclose what Max had said to her, though it was undoubtedly something utterly douchey.
My immediate instinct was to storm in there and give Max a piece of my mind for hurting someone as sweet as Belly. But I couldn't leave her alone in this vulnerable state, no matter how much I yearned to act on my anger.
Part of me felt selfish, taking pride in being the one offering her comfort during this time of need. She hadn't chosen my arms as her sanctuary; they had simply been the ones readily available when she needed them most.
As I sat there, holding her close and gently stroking her hair, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd have a panic attack tomorrow or in the days to come. My mom had mentioned she had a tough night, and I couldn't shake the nagging thought that I might have inadvertently contributed to her distress. I tried to convince myself it couldn't have been me, but the unfortunate truth was that I couldn't be sure, and I certainly couldn't ask her about it right now, perhaps not ever.
I'm not sure how long we stayed there together in the rose garden, but I would have remained indefinitely if she'd asked. In that moment, I would have done anything for the girl whose trembling breaths reverberated through my chest.
Pathetic? Perhaps, but I didn't care. Isabel had one of those personalities that was inherently infectious, undeniable. I doubted she realized how much happiness she'd brought into my family's life with her arrival, but we were all more grateful than we'd let on.
Cousins used to be my safe haven during the summers. We'd visit every year with Mom and Dad, and it was nothing short of magical. Dad would teach us to grill burgers and steaks, while Mom's specialty was baking cakes. On the Fourth of July, we'd put on our own fireworks show for the neighbors, and it was a grand celebration.
Even the rainy days were special. We'd huddle on the large sectional, and Mom would choose movies and bring out snacks. Sometimes, if it rained at night, Dad would wake us up to catch worms, then we'd head out on the boat at sunrise to fish with the worms we'd collected.
But then, everything changed during the summer of my thirteenth birthday. Mom and Dad started fighting, and Dad began distancing himself from us. Our once joyous summers turned bleak. I loved my mom, but I idolized my dad. I'd never forget the day he packed a bag and left home. Mom stood on the porch, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want Conrad and me to see her cry; she'd always been so strong for us. That day, she couldn't hide it.
After that, summers were never quite the same. Mom did her best to maintain traditions, but we all knew we could never go back to the way things were. Conrad and I started hanging out with the other summer kids and locals, while Mom immersed herself in the community, craving the companionship she'd lost. Cousins felt hollow.
Then, in our very last week this summer, Belly strolled into our lives and brought back the missing magic. None of us had felt so happy and whole since Dad left, or at least, I hadn't.
I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about her. Perhaps it was her smile, capable of brightening any room, or her penetrating brown eyes. It was hard to say, but it was likely a combination of factors. Regardless, it didn't matter. All I knew was that she made us happy, and if that's what she could achieve in just a week, the rest of the year promised to be the best of my life.
My mom's sudden appearance startled me; I'd been lost in my thoughts, tracing patterns and words on the back of Belly's dress. It seemed to comfort her, and her tears had ceased, which made me feel like I was doing something right.
I had half-expected my mom to whisk Belly away from me, usher her inside and take over caring for her, but instead, she surprised me by doing the opposite. I wanted to hug her tightly and thank her, but for obvious reasons, I couldn't do that. Firstly, I didn't want her to realize how elated I was to have more time with Belly, and secondly, her crying and suffering from a severe panic attack weren't reasons to celebrate.
"I'll make sure she's okay, I promise. But you should probably tell Mrs. Breeland that she needs to have a talk with her son about how to treat women," I whispered into her ear.
I may not have been able to punch Max in the face as I'd wanted, but if there was one thing I knew about Max Breeland, it was that he was a mama's boy. And if there was one thing certain about Susannah Fisher, it was that my mom could unleash her scary mama bear side when necessary.
Belly insisted on walking to the car without her shoes. I knew heels weren't comfortable, but going barefoot wasn't exactly safe either. So, instead of arguing or making her wear shoes that hurt her feet, I lifted her into my arms.
Maybe it was selfish of me, doing as I pleased because I finally had the opportunity to spend time with her. But she didn't seem to protest or mind. In fact, she nestled into my chest, getting comfortable in my arms.
The valet quickly brought my Jeep around, casting puzzled looks at the two of us. My white button-up shirt probably had mascara smudged across the front, but I didn't care. I shot a glare at a guy who stared at us for too long.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, shifting into the driver's seat and pulling out of the country club parking lot. We hadn't stayed long enough for the main course of the night, and finger foods wouldn't suffice for me.
"A little... actually, yeah," she said softly, rubbing her arms. I turned up the heat slightly, smiling and nodding before heading in the opposite direction of home.
"Have you ever had Sonic?"
I grinned when she shook her head. It was only a ten-minute drive in the opposite direction, and they had the best cheeseburgers.
"Get ready for your life to be changed, Bells."
We pulled up to the fast-food chain, parking in one of the spaces. The brightly lit menu screen in front of us had her wide-eyed and awestruck.
"I don't even know where to start," she mumbled in amazement, earning a chuckle from me.
"Do you trust me?" I quizzed, raising an eyebrow as I playfully narrowed my eyes at her.
"Hmm, I don't know. You swept me off my feet without asking—" she stopped herself, blushing hard, which was undeniably cute. "I mean, like when we were leaving," she quickly corrected.
"Mhmm," I mused, shaking my head and pressing the red button to place our order.
Ten minutes later, Belly and I each had cheeseburgers, fries, and tater tots to share, along with a giant grape slushee sporting two straws poking out of the lid.
"Alright, life-or-death question: You have to sing one song all the way through. What are you choosing?" she asked me.
"Ooh, a tough question," I sighed, pulling out my phone to scroll through my music library.
"Promise not to judge me?" I asked, my finger hovering over my choice.
"Oh, I'm definitely going to judge you," she retorted. I rolled my eyes and played it anyway; I didn't care.
"It's called 'New Romantics' by Taylor Swift." The beat filled the Jeep, and she threw her head back, laughing. God, I wanted to make her laugh like that every day.
"What's so funny?"
"You're a total Swiftie," she grinned. "No one knows that song all the way through unless they are," she stated matter-of-factly.
"What's wrong with being a Swiftie, huh?" I pointed at her before snatching the fry she was about to eat and popping it into my mouth.
"I never said there was anything wrong with it, Fisher," she teased, reaching across the console to turn the song up louder.
I'm sure the car next to us thought we were insane, singing the song at the top of our lungs together. I pretended my hand was a microphone, occasionally holding it out to Belly for her to sing into, and she did, full performance and all. Even with smeared makeup and disheveled hair, she was a sight to behold, as beautiful as ever.
Next on the playlist was "Golden" by Harry Styles, and I lowered the volume just enough for us to talk.
"I know you were way too bright for me," I sang softly to her, wanting to savor this moment for as long as possible.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, her cheeks flushing as she challenged me with those doe eyes of hers.
"You," I replied simply, and she looked away, blushing and smiling, even if she didn't want to admit it.
I couldn't help but wonder if she'd go back to pushing me away tomorrow. I really hoped not. Now that I'd experienced spending time with her like this, I didn't want it to end, even if it meant keeping it strictly friendly.
I despised dancing. It had never been my forte, and my feet seemed magnetically attracted to each other in the most inconvenient way possible. But tonight, it was a lifeline, a brief escape from the relentless barrage of questions about my thoughts on America. Conrad and Susannah had thrown me a much-needed lifeline, and I clung to it like a drowning sailor.
Dancing with Conrad felt acceptable, albeit a bit awkward due to my lack of dance floor expertise. Still, it beat the uncomfortable conversations at our table. I couldn't shake the feeling that I stood out like a sore thumb at this gala, with everyone's eyes fixed on me as if I were a stain on their pristine fabric.
When the dance with Conrad ended, my plan was to retreat to our table. However, I hadn't anticipated another guy boldly approaching me, making it difficult to refuse. His buddies grinned like Cheshire cats, so I put on a polite smile and accepted his hand.
"Warning, I'm not much of a dancer," I said softly, offering a small grin, hoping to fill the silence with some conversation. Dancing in silence was just too awkward for my liking. His response was a smirk and a dismissive shake of his head.
"What?" I inquired, my eyebrow raised, struggling to maintain focus on not stepping on his toes.
"Nothing," he mused, shaking his head, but then he continued, "You're the new Fisher exchange student, right?" His eyes, a piercing greenish gray, bore into me, far from warm or inviting. Despite his handsomeness, he gave off an unsettling vibe.
"Yes, Isabel," I replied hesitantly, holding back my nickname. I reserved that for friends, and based on the energy I felt from him, he didn't fit the bill. I just wanted this dance to end, and each passing second felt like an eternity.
"Well, Isabel, I've been dying to find out if foreign girls do it better," he whispered into my ear, his breath laden with alcohol, and his touch felt sharp, like daggers in my back. I swallowed down the rising discomfort, praying for the song to end.
As if my prayers were answered, the song faded away, and without thinking, I stepped away from him without a word, turning on my heels. As he vanished from my sight, the room seemed to close in, and my racing heartbeat replaced the music. Panic welled up inside me; this was the worst time and place for it. I was no longer at the safe Fisher summer house but at a gala, surrounded by their friends and colleagues.
Once outside, I had no idea where to go. I had never been here before, and the sun had set long ago, leaving only moonlight and scattered lampposts in the parking lot. I found a garden and slumped onto the nearest bench, my hand gripping the satiny fabric of my dress. I no longer felt beautiful; instead, I felt exploited, exposed, judged, and overwhelmingly uncomfortable.
I didn't hear Jeremiah at first when he said my name. I was too busy trying to calm my racing heart and focus on my breathing, but none of it was working.
"Isabel?" he called again, louder and more concerned. My head snapped up, and I met the gaze of the curly-haired boy. He was the last person I wanted to see me like this, but there was no hiding now. Pretending I was okay was not an option.
"What do you need?" he hurriedly closed the distance between us, clearly worried by my silence. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat, just like my ability to breathe. This situation was beyond frustrating; this was the second time, and what if Susannah found out and decided I needed to go back? I didn't want to return; I wasn't ready.
"Just... Can you... I just need you to wrap your arms around me tightly," I managed to say through small sobs. It was much harder than I expected, trying to talk while struggling to breathe. Asking the very guy I'd been avoiding for most of the week to hold me was the opposite of my intentions.
Jeremiah didn't hesitate. "Okay, yeah. Whatever you need. Is this okay?"
His arms enveloped me, pulling me against his chest. My body shook against his, and my face was buried in his chest. I knew I was probably ruining his shirt, but I couldn't stop. I felt so stupid; Max Breeland's comment had triggered all of this. It was just a stupid comment, but it had sent me into a panic attack. Jeremiah's calming presence helped, though. He whispered words of reassurance, and his touch was a lifeline in the storm of my emotions.
Even when I managed to calm down, I made no move to let go. Letting go meant acknowledging what had just happened, and it meant being alone with Jeremiah Fisher, defenseless and vulnerable. I didn't have the energy to keep him at arm's length now, so I allowed myself to sit there in his arms, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Sorry about your shirt," I sniffled finally, sitting up and wiping my eyes. I must have smeared my mascara, ruining all the effort Susannah had put into making me look pretty. I looked at him through wet lashes, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.
"I don't care about the shirt," he assured me, his bright blue eyes searching my brown ones. I felt exposed, as if he could see right through me, and it made me want to scream.
"Still... Sorry."
I wasn't sure if I was apologizing for staining his shirt or for shutting him out since that first night. Maybe it was both, but I'd let him interpret it as he wished.
We sat in silence for a moment, and I wiped the tears that continued to fall onto my cheeks, willing them to stop
"What did Max say to you?" Jeremiah finally asked, his jaw tensing. He seemed upset, maybe at Max, perhaps at me for causing such a scene, or perhaps it had nothing to do with me at all. He couldn't even look at me, and that hurt more than I expected.
"Bells," he urged on, still avoiding my gaze.
"He just made a stupid comment. It was no big deal," I tried to downplay it, resulting in a scoff from Jeremiah.
"Isabel, it's clearly a big deal if it sent you into a panic attack," he said softly, his blue eyes meeting mine once more.
"It wasn't really about what he said; he just reminded me of something I've been working really hard to forget." I'm not sure what made me be so honest with him. Maybe it was because I was too exhausted after hours of conversations and my panic attack, or maybe it was because I felt safe around Jeremiah.
I remembered that day vividly, the day everything had changed at school. Flyers with my face, X-ed out with bright red marker, plastered throughout the hallways. They were everywhere, each one bearing a different, horrible, untrue lie. But it didn't matter; everyone had seen them, and there was no rewind button in real life.
As I walked to class, people stared, and some whispered, but others shouted out hurtful things across the hallway, earning laughs from their friends.
One kid, a stranger to me, shoved a flyer in my face.
"Is it true you're easy? That's my favorite type."
I'd pushed past him, fighting the urge to vomit. Everyone was staring, and his friends were laughing. When I reached my locker, dozens more flyers fell out, and I cried right there. The torment never really stopped; it just took different forms. Forms that wouldn't get people in as much trouble.
Tears welled up again, and Jeremiah was quick to pull me back into his embrace. He whispered soft words, and his fingers drew comforting patterns on my back. It helped more than he knew. I focused on those patterns, wondering if he was writing a secret code there. I didn't dare ask; my energy was depleted.
"Jeremiah? Isabel? What are you two doing out here? I was looking for you both," Susannah's voice interrupted from across the garden.
"Oh, my poor girl," she cooed, joining us in front of the bench. I didn't want to look up from Jeremiah's chest. I felt safe there; I'd been vulnerable enough tonight, and I didn't need the only other Fisher who knew to break down the walls I'd built.
But I couldn't be rude, so I forced myself to lift my head and offered Susannah a weak smile. Jeremiah made no effort to remove his arms from around me. In fact, it felt like he held on tighter when he sensed me moving away, though perhaps I was imagining things.
"Jeremiah, you can take her home? Right, Angel?" Susannah glanced at the Fisher boy who still held me close. I felt his nod, and he reluctantly let go of me for a moment, standing up while keeping a hand on my shoulder. He gave Susannah a quick hug, whispered something in her ear, and kissed her cheek before telling her that we'd see her back at the house.
His attention was back on me quickly, offering his hand to help me up to my feet. I despised these heels; my feet ached, and the thought of walking around the building to reach the valet was daunting. So I kicked off my shoes, holding them by the straps now.
"Bells, you can't walk here barefoot; what if you step on glass?" he said, concern in his eyes.
"Well, then I step on glass, but I'm sure I'll be—"
Before I could finish my sentence, he scooped me up into his arms. He smiled at his mom, who watched us with a smile I hadn't seen until now. I wasn't sure what this smile meant, but I was relieved she wasn't angry with me.
Too tired to protest being carried and too emotionally drained to argue, I surrendered to Jeremiah's arms, letting him carry me to his Jeep. I could muster the strength to rebuild my walls tomorrow.
“They called her naive for believing in the good in people. But she was just a loving soul, who thought that even monsters needed someone, who truly believed, they were angels once and they can be it again. And yes, maybe that was naive, but this world needed people like her.”
