Page 1 of Lease to Love

Prologue

Summer

“I think we should have a go-go band play at our graduation party.”

I punctuated the declaration with a spin in the middle of the sidewalk, throwing my arms wide as I turned to face Autumn. It would've looked a lot more graceful if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on not busting my ass in front of half the neighborhood.

Autumn gave me a look that said girl, be so serious right now, but there was no real annoyance behind it. There never was. Just the same warm, long-suffering affection she reserved for me whenever I pitched one of my more questionable ideas.

“A go-go band,” she repeated dryly.

I rolled my eyes immediately.

“Fix your face,” I said, already mounting my defense. “Not one of the famous ones. I'm not talking about Reaction Band or Critical Condition. Maybe the church go-go band or something.”

Autumn remained completely unmoved.

“Somebody who'd do it for free,” I added, emphasizing the last word with raised eyebrows.

“Riiiight…” Her eyes narrowed. “And where exactly would this free go-go band be performing, Sunny? My backyard, which is approximately the size of a sandbox?” I laughed, and she kept going, “My living room? Oh!” She snapped her fingers dramatically. “Your apartment. Obviously. The rats could play bongos.”

That did me in. I doubled over laughing, picturing the giant apartment-building rats in matching church polos, keeping rhythm alongside the youth ministry boys.

Anybody else making fun of Mama and me—just the two of us in that raggedy little apartment—would've had me ready to fight, cry, or both. But Autumn was different. Autumn knew what it looked like when Mama came home exhausted after a double shift at Georgetown University Hospital. She knew what it looked like when the rent was due and Mama spent a week pretending she wasn't stressed. She knew because she'd been right there beside me through all of it.

My favorite cousin.

My best friend since diapers.

My sister in every way that mattered.

“Okay, okay,” I conceded through the last of my laughter. “Maybe not my most well-thought-out idea.”

“Maybe?” Autumn smirked at me with a quirked brow. I ignored her.

“I'm allowed one bad idea every once in a while. Most of the time, I'm a creative genius.”

Autumn's smirk deepened, “And by once in a while, you mean every hour?”

“Oh, here we go-”

“Because I distinctly remember somebody trying to bribe Ms. Sarpy on the last day of school.”

I gasped. “That is an insulting distortion of events.”

“Is it?”

“It was strategic networking.”

Autumn barked out a laugh. “You offered that woman a honey bun and an Arizona to change your final grade.”

“How was I supposed to know Sarpy was diabetic?”

Despite myself, I started laughing again.

“She said she hadn't eaten breakfast.” I shrugged, “I had snacks in my bag. She needed snacks. I shot my shot.”

The sound of our laughter spilled out across the busy Northeast DC street around us.