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Prologue
Two truths and a lie.
My name is Amelia Jacobson, but I prefer to be called Millie. If someone calls me Amelia, I’m either in trouble or they don’t know me. Or it’s my grandmother.
Music and theater have been a big part of my life, and I’m good at them, but it’s too much pressure to be the best. Not to mention all those eyes on you all the time. I much prefer books.
I have never lied to or hidden anything from my best friend ever.
I come from a large family, the middle child of seven and the first girl. With that many older brothers, I guess it’s to be expected that I would have a crush on at least one of their friends over the years, but why did it have to be Mark?
Mark Winters is best friends with my second brother, Ben. Ben is the brother I have the most complicated relationship with. It’s not that I don’t love my brother. I do. It’s just… Ben is a lot to handle. He has to be the center of attention. When things don’t go the way he plans, he has a hard time adjusting. He’s also very territorial. When something is his, he has a hard time sharing. You’d think being the second of seven would cure him of that, but nope. It might have made it worse. If I had to guess, I think growing up in the shadow of our oldest brother, Danny, was a lot for him. Danny was the star athlete, valedictorian, and prom king who married his high school sweetheart. Being only fourteen months younger meant Ben was compared to Danny in everything that he did, so he went out of his way to prove he was not only as good as Danny but better.
If Mark being Ben’s best friend wasn’t complicated enough, Mark is also the older brother to my best friend. Jonathan and I have been inseparable since birth. Since our mothers have been best friends since they were six, our families already did everything together; by the time we came along, it was written in the stars that we would be best friends. At least, that’s what Helen, Jonathan and Mark’s mom, always says. She is a hopeless romantic who always has a book or movie recommendation at the ready. My parents have always fostered my love of books, but my deep love affair with literature definitely is a product of my conversations with Helen.
Jonathan inherited his love of the dramatics from Helen, and it’s another thing that we have shared for most of our lives. At twelve, we were doing anything and everything that would help us achieve our goals of being stars. More accurately, Jonathan wanted to be Gene Kelly while I just loved performing. I did not, however, love being in front of all those people. Strangers make me nervous.
By the time we were in high school, Jonathan was our student director and choreographer. He would still perform, but the roles were fewer and further between. I, on the other hand, had somehow made it out of the chorus and into lead roles. My anxiety would get me before every single show. If not for Jonathan’s constant presence, I’m not sure I would have made it through.
When we went to different colleges, I went back to my old reliable books. Books never made me be in front of people. Books never gave me anxiety, and if they did, it was only a page turn away to resolve it. Books always have a happy ending, at least the ones I read. Life isn’t like that. And if my love life has anything to show, it is that life is nothing like books or a Hallmark movie.
If my life was a Hallmark movie, then the whole reason I haven’t been lucky in love is because my perfect match hasn’t appeared. Either he is the son of a CEO of some big company and needs to prove himself, or I have to move to a small town and meet him in a coffee shop. There is always my favorite Hallmark fantasy, where Mark moves back home and discovers that not only does he actually believe in relationships, but he’s madly in love with me. Magically, our brothers think it’s great and everyone is happy. Roll credits.
But life isn’t a Hallmark movie. And if it were, I’m more the quirky side character, the best friend who supports her friends with all her being and cheers for all of their successes. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I have a job that I love and I’m good at. Is it what I’ve always dreamed of doing? No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it. I don’t resent my friends for living out their dreams either. Some of us have main character energy, and some of us have sidekick energy. I’d rather be Robin than Batman anyway.
One thing that will never change, Jonathan is and always will be my best friend. He has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I would (and have) done anything for him. Through thick and thin, we have each other’s backs. We talk about everything. There is no such thing as a secret between us… unless you count my crush on this brother. That we don’t talk about. In fact, if Jonathan even knew I have harbored that crush over the years, he would lose it. The very idea of me dating his brother goes against one of the biggest rules of our “Best Friend Code” Jonathan wrote up when we were eleven. It’s right up there with always pick up your best friend’s snacks when you are at the store. (We were eleven, it was a big deal, okay.) It’s not like I ever thought one of us falling for the other’s siblings was ever a possibility—again, we were eleven. Mark was sixteen. Maeley was five. The odds were that it wouldn’t ever be an issue. Or so I thought. Then as I got older, my unrequited crush became a bigger and bigger secret that I hid from my best friend. It’s not like I went out of my way to keep this secret. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. Especially the older we got. That five-year age gap isn’t such a gap now that we are adults. Not that any of it matters anyway. Mark has made it very clear that he doesn’t do relationships. And even if he did, it would never be with me.
Chapter 1
Millie
Igroan as my alarm goes off. No matter the day of the week, 5:30 is way too early to be getting up, but on a Saturday? It should be illegal. I want nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, but I know I have approximately twenty minutes before my roommate, Torrance, comes crashing through my door.
My best friend, Jonathan, and I first met Torrance when we were twelve and made it into the prestigious Ridgeview Youth Theatre. I was terrified. Ridgeview Theatre is highly competitive and sought after. People traveled for miles to be part of the program and from even further to see the productions. Even now, almost fifteen years later, it’s a big deal that all three of us made it. We were three of five twelve-year-olds to make the program.
I met Tori the second week of rehearsals and was instantly fascinated. I knew I wanted to be friends with her immediately, but it took some convincing on Jonathan’s part. He had been burned by so many of our former so-called friends. Tori won him over in the end, and we’ve been the three musketeers ever since. It probably helped that she went to a different middle school than we did which meant she didn’t know all of the drama that happened after Jonathan’s parents divorced. Not that she would have cared. Tori has a way of not caring about what other people think that I admire and envy even after all of these years. When she introduces herself to new people, she is always Torrance; I can count on my hands how many people she has given permission to call her Tori.
“You better be up!” Tori calls through my bedroom door. “If you aren’t out here in five minutes, I’m coming in!”
And she would too. I miss the Tori that hated mornings as much as I do. The one who growled at anyone who talked to her before 7:00 am. Now she’s up before the sun every morning for a run before work.
I groan again as I look at my clock, but I make myself get out of bed anyway. It’s the one day a week that Tori, Jonathan, and I all have off, and we promised we would make the most of it now that we are all back in California. Ridgeview will always be home, but part of what makes it home is having them with me. I just wish we did normal things like going to the mall rather than run.
“Up and at ‘em!” Tori bursts through my door. She looks at me still in my pajamas. “You aren’t even ready!”
“I was stretching.” It’s a sorry excuse, and we both know it. I make a show of standing up and grabbing my shorts and tank. There will be no missing me in fluorescent pink and yellow. I’ll practically glow in the dark. “Why can’t we just drive to the trail? Do we really need to run all the way there?”
