Chapter 4
1149 Words
By the time the last bell rings, I’ve officially learned three things:
Pacific Sands is academically terrifying.
Rich kids are somehow louder than regular kids.
Landon Baxter is now a problem.
A very blue-eyed, tattooed, unfairly attractive problem.
And I hate that for me.
Because I didn’t come here to get distracted.
I came here for Dartmouth.
For my future.
For the life I’ve been working toward since I was old enough to understand what ambition meant.
I am not here to fall in love with some rich boy whose family probably owns half the coastline.
That would be stupid.
Life-ruining, even.
So naturally, he is all I can think about.
By the time I rush outside after school, I’m desperate to get out of here and away from him before my brain writes wedding vows based on one hallway interaction and three accidental eye contacts.
To my horror, my mom is late.
I pull out my phone and call her once.
Then twice.
Then a third time, just as my social anxiety begins preparing my funeral.
She answers on the last ring.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “There was an emergency with Stacy and Sierra, but it’s handled. I’m almost there. Twenty
minutes, kid.”
Then she hangs up.
Twenty minutes.
Fantastic.
Just enough time for me to sit on the curb like a scholarship student-shaped cautionary tale while everyone else gets picked up in
luxury vehicles that cost more than my parents’ combined annual patience.
Cars pull up one after another.
Porsches.
Range Rovers.
A Lamborghini, because apparently that’s normal here.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting on the curb with my backpack in my lap, trying not to look like I’m one missed tuition payment away from being escorted off campus.
And because the universe clearly hates me—
Landon walks out.
Of course he does.
And of course he’s with a group of equally attractive, equally expensive-looking friends.
And of course they’re the last people to leave.
Because dramatic timing is apparently his thing.
I turn my face away, hoping—praying—they won’t notice me.
No such luck.
I hear him tell his friends to go ahead.
And then I know.
I’m done for.
His shoes stop in front of me.
“So,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, “are you waiting for your boyfriend?”
I look up at him.
He looks annoyingly pleased with himself.
So I smile sweetly.
“No,” I say. “I’m waiting for my mom. My boyfriend, however, is back home.”
The lie comes out so smoothly I almost impress myself.
And for the briefest second—
Something flashes across his face.
Not jealousy exactly.
Something softer.
More disappointed.
But it’s gone so quickly I’m not even sure I imagined it.
“I can give you a ride,” he says, nodding toward the parking lot.
I follow his gaze.
And there it is.
A McLaren.
Because of course it is.
My stomach drops.
Not because of the car.
Okay, partially because of the car.
But mostly because suddenly every difference between us feels painfully obvious.
“No thanks,” I say quickly. “She should be here any minute.”
Then, because my mother raised me correctly, I add, “But thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
He tilts his head.
“Do you always talk that politely?”
I laugh.
“No. Just to boys I don’t know.”
His mouth curves.
“You know me,” he says. “I’m Landon Baxter.”
And wow.
He really does say his own name like it comes with theme music.
“We met earlier.”
He gives me a look that is somehow both teasing and boyishly offended, like a puppy that’s just been told it’s not allowed on the couch.
It’s stupidly cute.
Which is unfortunate.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he says. “You seem to know everything about me, and all I know is your name.”
The way he says it—
Nessa.
Soft. Slow. Like he’s testing how it feels in his mouth.
And if my body could stop betraying me for five seconds, that would be great.
“There isn’t much to tell,” I say, looking down at my hands. “I’m nothing important.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
And immediately, I hate them.
Because they sound small.
Smaller than I actually am.
Landon’s expression changes.
Something in his face softens.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “I doubt that.”
And I don’t know why those four words hit me the way they do.
But they do.
Because no one here has looked at me like that today.
Like maybe I’m not invisible.
Like maybe I matter before I’ve had the chance to prove myself.
I look at him then—really look at him—and for one terrifying, impossible second, it feels like I know him.
Not his name.
Not his family.
Not the version everyone else sees.
Him.
Like some part of me recognizes something in him before I’ve even earned the right to.
It makes no sense.
And yet—
The sound of a horn saves me.
I jump to my feet so fast I nearly trip over my own backpack.
“My mom’s here,” I say, unnecessarily.
Smooth.
Very smooth.
Landon steps back, smiling slightly.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and hurry toward the car, then glance back before climbing in.
He’s still standing there.
Still watching me.
And I hate how much that matters.
I wave once before shutting the door.
The second I’m inside, my mom looks over at me with the exact expression every mother gets when she knows something happened.
“So,” she says, pulling away from the curb, “how was your first day?”
I tell her everything.
Well.
Almost everything.
I tell her about the school, the scholarship pressure, getting lost, meeting Alexis and Jasmine, and how everyone here seems like they
were born knowing what a trust fund is.
What I do not tell her is that one boy with blue eyes and a stupidly beautiful face somehow managed to h****k every functioning thought in my body.
Because that would require me admitting it to myself first.
And I’m not ready for that.
Not even close.
But that night, when I close my eyes—
He’s there.
And in my dreams, he smiles at me like he already knows something I don’t.
Like he’s going to matter.
Like this is only the beginning.
And somehow, even then, some quiet part of me already knows the truth:
Loving Landon Baxter was always going to cost me everything.
I just didn’t know it yet.
(Chapter Theme song: Someone Like You by Adele)
- Writer
