Page 55 of Frozen Hearts
Despite the hostility simply seeing her elicits, there’s no denying how beautiful Riley has become. The last time I laid eyes on her, she was fifteen and painstakingly beautiful. Seventeen and ruled by hormones, she held me captivated. No other girl at school held a candle to her. It made it next to impossible for me to be around her, and instead I resorted to lurking in the shadows and watching from a distance…
The sound of water splashing in our pool has me gravitating outside, wondering who would be up this early. The sun is barely cresting the horizon, my hangover hitting me hard from last night’s party. I should still be passed out in bed, but when I woke up in Charlie’s guest bedroom with some naked chick beside me, I knew it was my opportunity to sneak out before she woke and the waterworks began.
I pause in the doorway, my gaze landing on a now familiar lithe form as it cuts a path through the pool, reaching the far end before doing a flip and coming back. I should leave. It’s not appropriate for me to be standing here watching her, yet my feet remain rooted to the floor, the shadows of the doorway hiding me from view as I watch her like a creeper.
Slick creamy skin. Auburn hair, the copper strands shining in the early morning rays.
Riley James has become an inconvenient obsession. One that space and distraction have not succeeded in purging from my mind.
At the end of her next stroke, she hauls herself out of the pool, water sluicing from her slim form as every inch of her dancer’s body is put on display for me to memorize. It doesn’t matter that she’s two years younger than me and one hundred percent off-limits. I can’t drag my eyes away as she turns to sit on the edge of the pool, her legs and feet dangling in the water.
Even in a basic one-piece, she’s more captivating than the girls strutting around wearing basically nothing at last night’s party. I’m held entranced as she tips her head back, face lifted to the early morning light. She’s beautiful. Sadness clings to her features, carved into each of the tiny freckles dotting her cheeks. I overheard Dad saying she’s been having a hard time adjusting. I wish I could help. I want to help. I’ve done everything I can to put her at ease from afar—friendly smiles, saying hi when we cross paths at school—but I’m afraid to get any closer. I’m sure she just needs time. She’ll make some friends, settle into her classes, start dating someone in her year.
I try not to think about that last one. By fall, I’ll be off to college, and with that distance, I’ll be able to get over this little… obsession.
But for now, I stand and drink in every inch of her beauty.
Yes, Riley James was pretty when she was fifteen, but watching her on the stage now, she’s… magnetic. Her body has filled out in all the right places, changing from that of a teenage girl to a curvaceous woman. However, her face is the same.
So familiar, even after all this time.
Not that I could ever forget the face of the girl who destroyed my family.
Who tarnished our generations-old name.
Who ruined my entire life.
My fucking stepsister.
14
RILEY
Tapping my pen against mine and Logan’s usual table in the library, I check the time on my phone for what must be the hundredth time. He’s late. Beyond late. Is an hour late, late? Or does it officially count as a no-show at this point?
A sinking pit opens in my stomach.
I’ve been worried for days now. After his speech on Thursday night about wanting to see and talk to me every day, things were great on Friday and Saturday. He texted me good morning, and we chatted on and off during the day. We had Statistics together, and I FaceTimed him before Friday and Saturday’s games.
But since then, it’s been radio silence. No good morning text. No mention of meeting up on Sunday. I’m notthat girl, so after he didn’t respond to my text on Sunday morning, hoping he had fun with his teammates on Saturday night, I didn’t harass him any further.
Initially, I’d figured he was simply hungover, but I began to worry when I still hadn’t heard anything yesterday. Yet, I still held off on messaging him.
However, now he’s a no-show for our tutoring session—the first time all semester that he has missed one—and that festering concern has become a bubbling pit of worry.
Feeling queasy, I open my chat with him while gnawing on my bottom lip.
Me
Hey, are you running late?
Did you forget about our session today?
Just wanted to check that everything is okay…
Every single one of my messages has gone unread, and I refuse to send any more and come across as desperate or needy, or give away the fact I’m just a little bit worried. What if something happened? I know he wasn’t injured in Saturday’s game, although what if something happened when he was out that night? Or he could have been hurt in training since then.
Or perhaps it was all pretty words and he’s done with you now.
