Crazy Things He Did For Love

If there was one thing I was absolutely certain about in life, it was this: I would never fall in love with a boy. Never. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not even if the last decent-looking male on earth got down on one knee and begged me. Especially not then. Unfortunately, life has a rather irritating habit of laughing at people who think they have everything figured out. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start with the disaster that was my Monday morning. I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows and landing directly on my face. I groaned, pulled my blanket over my head, and reached blindly for my phone. 8:17 a.m. My eyes widened. "s**t!" I threw the blanket aside so violently that it landed halfway across the room. School! My alarm had apparently decided that waking me up on time was optional. Honestly, what was the point of setting an alarm if it was going to betray me when I needed it most? I scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, nearly tripping over my own feet. Today was the first day of a new school year, and I was already late. Brilliant, Mildred. Absolutely brilliant. For the record, I'm Mildred Tanner, seventeen years old, born and raised in California, and the second child of Mr. Jimmy Tanner, a wealthy businessman who somehow managed to run a successful company while raising three very different daughters. I attended Oxford High School, one of the most prestigious schools in California. And before you start imagining some perfect little rich girl with a spotless reputation, designer clothes, and a charming boyfriend waiting at her locker, allow me to correct you. I hated boys. Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate. I hated males in general. Boys. Teenagers. Grown men. The entire masculine population. The only exception was my father, and that was because he was my father. He had earned his place in my life by being kind, protective, funny, and, most importantly, not giving me a reason to regret trusting him. Other males? Absolutely not. People had asked me countless times why I hated boys so much. "Mildred, why do you hate boys?" "Mildred, did someone break your heart?" "Mildred, you can't hate an entire gender!" My personal favorite was when people told me I would change my mind once I met the right guy. The right guy? Please. If such a person existed, I sincerely hoped he would stay on the other side of the planet. I wasn't interested in romantic relationships, dramatic breakups, or the emotional circus my classmates seemed so eager to join. I'd watched girls who once had perfectly functioning brains turn into completely different people because of a boy. They would stare at their phones for hours, waiting for a message. They would cry because someone had left them on read. They would swear they were done with a particular guy, only to forgive him the next day because he sent three heart emojis and an apology. Three heart emojis! Apparently, that was all it took to restore world peace. I didn't understand it. I didn't want to understand it. And I certainly didn't want it happening to me. My plan was simple: finish school, pursue my dreams, make my family proud, and live a peaceful life without a boy interfering with my happiness. Easy. At least, that's what I thought. By the time I finished my shower, it was already 8:27 a.m. I threw on my school clothes, brushed my hair as quickly as possible, grabbed my bag, and hurried downstairs. The house was unusually quiet. Everyone had already left. On the dining table sat a sandwich and a handwritten note from my mother. I picked it up and read it. Mil, Eat properly before leaving. We didn't want to wake you because you were sleeping so deeply. Your father had urgent work at the office, so he dropped Claire and Chloe off earlier. We've arranged for a driver to take you to school. Don't rush too much. Take care of yourself. Love you. I stared at the note for a moment before smiling. Typical Mom. She could lecture us for an entire hour about responsibility, then leave food waiting for us because she knew we would forget to eat. My mother, Andrea Tanner, was thirty-seven and beautiful in a way that made it difficult to believe she had three children. She loved cooking, singing, and, unfortunately for us, screaming whenever we did something she disapproved of. Which was often. She was also the strictest person in our household. Even Dad, a forty-three-year-old businessman who dealt with important people every day, occasionally looked like he was reconsidering his life choices whenever Mom got into one of her moods. I loved her, though. Naturally, I loved Dad too. As for my sisters? That was a more complicated subject. Claire, my nineteen-year-old elder sister, was the human embodiment of irritation. She was rude, argumentative, and had a remarkable talent for making me regret opening my mouth. Sometimes, I genuinely wondered whether we had been switched at birth. I was still investigating. Then there was Chloe, my fifteen-year-old younger sister, who was practically an angel. Well, an angel with a questionable taste in boys. Chloe could fall in love on Monday, break up on Thursday, and find a new boyfriend before the weekend. Her relationship status changed so frequently that I had stopped trying to keep track. I sometimes wondered whether she had a secret subscription service for boyfriends. But she was sweet, beautiful, and much easier to tolerate than Claire. Don't tell either of them I said that. I folded Mom's note and slipped it into my bag before picking up the sandwich. I was supposed to eat properly, apparently. Well, I took a few bites. That counted as eating, didn't it? From the window beside the front door, I spotted the driver waiting beside the car. My parents were ridiculously protective of us. They liked knowing where we were, who we were with, and whether we had arrived safely. Sometimes, I suspected they would have installed tracking devices in our school bags if they thought they could get away with it. Still, arranging a driver for me at such short notice was unusual. Dad must have had something important to deal with. I finished the last bite of my sandwich, adjusted my bag over my shoulder, and stepped outside. The driver opened the back door for me. "Good morning, Miss Tanner." "Morning." I slid into the car and fastened my seat belt. A few seconds later, we were on our way. I leaned against the window and watched the familiar streets of California pass by. Another school year. Another collection of assignments, annoying teachers, unnecessary drama, and girls discussing boys as if they were the most fascinating creatures ever created. I sighed. Could nobody find a more interesting hobby? I had no friends, and I was perfectly comfortable with that arrangement. Friendship wasn't something I particularly wanted. Most of the girls I knew spent their free time discussing relationships, gossiping about their classmates, or arguing over which boy was the cutest. I would rather read a book. Or sleep. Or stare at a wall. Anything, really. I had no intention of changing my mind just because another school year had started. My rules were simple. No unnecessary drama. No pointless friendships. And absolutely no boys. I was going to follow those rules. I had to. Because, as far as I was concerned, the only thing worse than a boy was a girl who allowed one to control her entire life. And I would never be that girl. Never.