Page 1 of Spearcrest Queen

Blue Summer

My summer in NewHaven is the colour blue.

The blue of the American summer sky, the blue of the hydrangeas framing Evan’s aunt’s house, the blue of the Long Island Sound, that famous impassable chasm between the houses of Gatsby and his Daisy.

The blue of Evan’s eyes, a ridiculous blue that sometimes doesn’t even feel quite real. Liar’s blue, I used to think, the beauty of the colour disarming enough so you’d never know you were about to get hurt.

Tomorrow, I’m leaving for Harvard Law School.

I’ve not told Evan that I’m going early, or that I was accepted into the Direct Admissions for Remarkable Talent, a pilot programme designed to bypass the traditional bachelor’s degree requirement. It also comes with a significant scholarship, something I couldn’t afford to pass up.

In exchange, we’re expected to attend a summer crash course ahead of the main cohort, starting in mid-August. I’ve been waiting for it all summer, oscillating between excitement and dread.

I don’t know why I haven’t told Evan. Maybe because I don’t want to shatter the dream just yet. Maybe because I don’t think he’d care much anyway. Maybe because I just want one last dream-blue day.

The morning of my final day of summer, Evan bursts in like a ray of sunshine, golden and beaming, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Get up, sleepyhead. It’s a beautiful day, I’m taking you out.”

If I had the courage to tell him the truth, that I’d rather spend today alone with him, watching the stars over the estuary, kissing under the sharp witchy crescent of the moon, I would.

But I can’t.

So instead, we spend the first half of the day on East Hampton’s Main Street, wandering into shops that make me feel as though I ought to disintegrate into a pile of dust the moment I cross their gilded thresholds. Evan points at bracelets, dresses, trinkets—anything he thinks I’ll like.

“Sophie, how about this?”

Evan gestures, and a sales associate lifts a gold necklace from a marble bust, handing it carefully to Evan. The pendant is a pear-cut emerald wrapped in tiny diamonds. It’s a beautiful piece, one I couldn’t afford in a thousand years.

Evan moves to fasten the necklace around my neck, and I duck gracelessly away, shaking my head.

“Are you kidding me? My skin would probably set aflame the moment real gold touched it.”

“What do you mean?”

I glance at him, his blue eyes wide with confusion. Those big hands, handling that delicate gold chain. A mere trinket to him; to me, a lavish collar. Is it innocence or stupidity, to be so rich that you can’t conceive the thought that others can be so much poorer than you?

It’s not Evan’s fault, I know that. Not his fault he was born into this beautiful life, this glimmering dreamworld.

But itishis fault that he once looked me in the eye and said,It’s not my fault you’re poor, is it?

My chest constricts. The smell of the boutique, roses and leather, is cloying, too rich for me to breathe freely. In the gilded mirror, I seeher, the girl I used to be. All elbows and angles and acne scars, shoulders squared, eyes too wary for her age—the girl Evan once tossed aside like she meant less than nothing.

I blink, my throat tight, and the reflection shifts back to me now: Sophie Sutton in a short sundress, older and wiser now, maybe even slightly happier. But the hurt, angry girl is still there, lingering like a bruise.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say quickly. I gesture at the necklace, forcing a half-smile. “Unless you intend to buy yourself a pretty necklace.”

A flash of anxiety in his blue eyes. “I want to buyyoua pretty necklace.”

A strange pain twists through me. I know he means it. I know he wants to shower me with gifts and expensive shiny things—proof of his love. And I wish I was soft and malleable enough to let him, to accept his love without fear.

But I spent years hardening myself, and now I don’t know if I could ever step out of my own armour.

“Come on, Evan.” I give him a smirk. “Save your fortune for all those models you’ll have to pay to date you during your mid-life crisis.”

I breeze out of the boutique, hoping to leave behind my guilt along with the silk scarves and rose perfumes and emeralds.

Evan catches up with me as I emerge into the sun-drenched street. He catches my arm and swings me around to press me back against the cool glass of the shop front, blocking out the sunlight with his body.

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