Page 1 of Pinky Promises

Prologue

Brynn

“You’vegottobefreaking kidding me,” I vent to myself as I roll onto my side and passive-aggressively adjust my pillow for what feels like the millionth time tonight. The noise from my parents’ party below continues to keep me awake. How am I supposed to sleep through the rumble of laughter and music coming through the floorboards? I’m pretty sure the sheer volume has only grown over the last few hours since I left to seek solace in my room.

It’s not like this is anything new. Growing up as part of the social elite of Havenwood, Connecticut, I’m used to my parents hosting lavish affairs. The older I get, the less patience I have with their group of friends—if you can even really call them that. Everyone that lives in this town is fake. I can’t wait to one day leave it all behind.

“It’s all part of giving off the perfect appearance, dear,”my mother always says whenever I complain. She just wants us tolookperfect, since our family is far from it. Typically, I am sent away to my room after dinner at these events. Honestly, it’s fine by me. I prefer the quiet; it was there that I found my love of reading.

Bookshelves line the walls on one side of my bedroom, filled with pages of adventure, excitement, and proof that happily ever afters can exist because I’m not sure they do in this lifestyle, at least not according to my parents.

I jump when there is a loud tapping behind me.What the heck?Rolling over, I find my best friend, Callum, standing on the other side of the french doors that lead out to the balcony outside my room. He gives a small wave before pointing down to the handle.

I hop up out of bed and rush to unlock the door. Of course, in my haste, my foot catches in my blankets, and I trip over my own two feet before reaching the door.

“Did you have a nice trip?” He chuckles as he enters my room. I groan.Of course he saw that. Kind of hard not to, I guess.

I repeat his words in a mocking tone.

“I don’t know why you locked that,” he says, carefully shutting the door behind him. “Might have saved you that little vacation you just took.”

“Hardy, har, har.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why you didn’t use the front door like a normal person,” I respond over my shoulder as I walk back to my bed and fumble to fix the covers. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg underneath me. He could’ve easily walked through the front door without anyone even noticing, but leave it to him to go for the dramatic entrance.

He toes off his shoes, leaving them by the door, “Nah, I didn’t feel like running into Dad andher.” His lips twist in disgust as he refers to his new stepmom.

Callum, or Cal as everyone else calls him, lost his mom to cancer when we were only three years old. I don’t remember her, but I’ve seen photos, and I’ve never seen his dad look at anyone the way he looked at Callum’s mom, Eva. His father has been going through women like the dry cleaners rotate through items on the spinning rack. At least, that’s how I overheard my mother referring to it once. Mr. Murphy never seems to stay with them long. It’s been twelve years since Eva passed away, and only just recently, he found one he wanted to settle down with. Although, I don’t know how long it will last because how can you tell someone is forever after only six months?

Callum’s father cares about him just as much as my parents do about me, but no matter how much our parents let us down, and I can tell you from experience that it is often, we can always count on each other. I am lucky to have such an amazing best friend who is always there for me. Callum is really my onlytruefriend. Sure I have plenty of “friends,” but they’re just all your typical rich, stuck-up snobs born with silver spoons in their mouths, some of them just wanting to be my friend because my last name is Macallister.

Callum and I have been best friends our entire lives. Our fathers, John Macallister and Charles Murphy, run Aurora Cove Management, one of the largest hedge fund companies on the East Coast.

“Daddy’s going to flip if he finds you in here,” I tease, changing the subject as I scootch back against the headboard. We both know it’s a lie, but it’s fun to pretend that he would care that there is a boy in my room. When our parents are entertaining, it’s as if we no longer exist—not that it’s much different from other times. Sometimes, I wonder if they had kids just because everyone else was or because it was good for keeping up appearances as a “family man,” and people want to do business with a family man.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.” Cal rolls his eyes, coming around to the side of the bed. “Now, are you going to move over, or should I just go back home.”

The Murphys live next door, however, due to the size of the properties, it feels a lot further. A small span of trees divides our families’ properties—the perfect place to play hide-and-seek as kids.

Callum crosses his arms, and I bet if I could see his feet, he would be tapping his foot as well, waiting for me to either say something or to move over. But I do neither. So, he spins around and starts to head back for the door. “Fine, be that way.”

“No, wait,” I shout, jumping up and launching my body at him. He glances over his shoulder at me, a smirk on his lips, as I hang off him, clinging to him like a spider monkey. He knows he won, and I don’t want him to leave.

“I knew you’d make the right decision.” He double taps his palm on my forearm wrapped around his shoulders before placing me back on my bed.

“What are you even doing here?” Not that he needs a reason, but he hadn’t told me he was coming over when I talked to him earlier.

“I heard there was a nasty storm coming tonight. I know how you feel about storms, and I didn’t want you to be alone.” The sincerity in his voice has my eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Looks like I got here just in time, too. I saw the lightning in the distance as I was making my way up here.”

“You seriously should stop climbing up the terrace and just use the front door. One of these days, it’s not going to be able to hold you, and you’re going to get hurt.” I settle under the covers, leaving him plenty of room beside me.

“You worry too much. I think it’s ratherRomeo and Juliet, don’t you think?”

I shake my head yet can’t stop the giggle that slips from my lips. I know the only reason he is bringing upRomeo and Julietis because I forced him to study the ins and outs of that play all last week as we prepared for our English midterm.

Callum pulls his hoodie up over his head, revealing a sliver of skin just above his gym shorts. Callum is almost fifteen and hit a huge growth spurt last year, so he towers over me. His brown hair is cut short around his slender face, and his eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen. I bet one day, I’ll see him on the cover of a magazine or billboard for Abercrombie.

Recently, I’ve started feeling different around Callum. I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s not necessarily the same butterflies that I get when I’m around Jace Sullivan in second period—there’s always been something special about Callum and me. Sometimes, I catch him looking at me nowadays with this weird longing in his eyes—almost like I’m the only girl in a crowded room. I’ve also gotten jealous at times when I see him talking to other girls. It’s all because I don’t want them to take my best friend away from me. He’s the fresh air my lungs need to breathe in this stifling society.

I’ve thought about asking my mother about my newfound feelings, but we don’t have that type of relationship. She didn’t even explain things when I got my first period. She was too busy planning some fundraiser, so I learned about it from Imelda, the Murphys’ housekeeper.

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