Page 1 of Memories of You

Prologue

He lives there in my earliest memories. The boy nextdoor with his quick smile and stupid jokes. We’d play tag in the cul-de-sacwith his brother and the neighborhood kids. We’d look for rocks in the fieldbehind our house, getting filthy, then splashing in the blow-up pool to washoff the grime. He was my best friend, my closest ally, the boy with whom Ishared all my secrets.

He was my rock before he became my crush, the boy aboutwhom I drew hearts on my notebook and wrote long passages in my diary. I nevertold him, though. I never shared that part of my heart. His friendship meanttoo much, and we clung to it like brother and sister over the years.

My heart broke for him when his family shattered.

That horrible D word.

Divorce.

Then he was gone. His father to one coast, and hismother to another, taking the boy I adored and his brother with her. I mournedthe loss, even more so when we lost touch.

And though life went on, I can’t deny that he left ahole in my heart.

Now he’s back, and this time a wild passion cracklesbetween us, filling me with hope and promise.

But I can see how the years have broken him, and now Ican’t help but fear that the boy I always needed has grown into a man I cannever have.

Chapter One

“I’m being paranoid,” I say as I walk down Wilshire towardJava B’s, a local Los Angeles coffee house that recently opened up in SantaMonica, right near my new office. “They were probably just wrong numbers, right?”

“Sure, Abby,” Lilah says, the sarcasm coming through myearbuds loud and clear. “Because that’s what people who dial a wrong number do.They don’t just hang up. They stay on the line and mouth breathe like thelow-life cretins they are. And then they call a zillion more times in a two-dayperiod.”

It’s a typical Lilah answer, and even though she’s right—I’mprobably dealing with an actual creep and not a wrong number—it makes me feelbetter.

I ask her to hang on as I head into the coffee shop and get inline to order. She starts humming the theme from Jeopardy, and I rollmy eyes and ignore her as I wait for my turn to order.

I met Lilah Barrett on the first day of my sophomore year ofhigh school. I’d been working up the courage to tell Renly Cooper, my childhoodbestie, that freshman year had been hell because I’d developed a huge crush onhim. And rather than just deal with it, I’d avoided him. Not that he’d noticed.He’d been too into sports and debate and theater, whereas I was the tech geekwho hung out in the STEM wing and wrote computer games instead of doing myhomework.

I’d been hoping to man up and let him know that I missedhanging out with him, and that even though we didn’t live next door to eachother anymore, that I was hoping we could still be friends. I wasn’t sure if Iwas going to own up to my crush, but Renly always had a knack for reading mymind, so I figured he probably already knew that part.

I was nervous as shit, just standing there waiting by hislocker, when this fairy-like wraith of a girl came up and started fiddling withthe combination lock.

“Um, are you getting something for Renly?” I’d asked.

She’d turned pale blue eyes on me, then said, “Wow, there’sa lot of orange in your aura. What’s stressing you out?”

I should have said it was none of her business.

I should have asked why she was getting into his locker.

Instead, I word vomited my life onto her, ending with thefact that I was waiting for Renly to basically tell him that my teenagehormones were under control and that I missed my bestie.

“Oh, wow. That really blows. Maybe you can track down hisnew phone number and tell him? Hanging on to that kind of emo baggage canreally mess with your aura, and yours is already funky.”

I ignored the aura bit but dove straight to the heart of thematter. “New phone number?”

She shrugged. “They told me at the office that the guyassigned to this locker moved out of town. So I guess it’s mine untilgraduation. Sorry about that.”

Renly and Red had been doing the Divorced Parent Dance thatsummer, pushed off to stay with their dad up north, even though they didn’twant to go. It turns out that while they were away, their mom had pulled upstakes and moved herself and the boys down to Houston, which meant I hadn’tseen him since he’d left in June.

The whole situation sucked, but at least it meant that Ididn’t have to pretend to be over my crush when I was around him. Not exactly aplus considering I was still missing my friend.

The upside was that I gained Lilah. And despite the fact thatwe’re so different—or maybe because of it—she fast became one of my closestfriends.

Now we’re neighbors, too, as I rent half of a Santa Monicaduplex that she inherited from her parents after they died in a helicoptercrash our first year at UCLA.