Chapter 1: Confessing to him.

Skye

Ever since I was twelve, I made myself a ridiculous promise: I would never become an eighteen-year-old virgin.

Well…today is my eighteenth birthday, and I'm still a virgin: no boyfriend, no situationship, not even a decent first kiss.

If this were an achievement, I’d probably have a trophy by now.

“You have been staring at him for fifteen minutes,” Chloe’s voice jerks me back to reality.

I blink, following her gaze across the crowded fraternity house. Straight to Ethan Knight. Royal Haven University’s golden boy.

Star quarterback, campus heartthrob—the guy I've secretly loved since freshman orientation.

He throws his head back, laughing at something one of his teammates says, completely oblivious to the fact that my entire birthday has revolved around gathering enough courage to speak to him.

“he’s so pretty.” I sigh.

Kimberly snorts into her drink, “You sound like you are watching a Disney prince.”

“He kind of is. He plays football.”

“So?”

“He probably smells like sweet. Very attractive sweet.”

The two of them burst into laughter.

“You are hopeless,” Chloe says.

Kimberly grins, “I have an idea.”

Whenever my best friend says those four words, someone’s life is about to get ruined. Usually mine.

I shake my head, “No.”

“I have not even said anything.”

“I already don't like it.”

“If you walk over there and confess to Ethan Knight before this party ends,” she pulls out four hundred-dollar bills from her purse, “these are yours.”

My eyes widen, “and if I don't?”

“You pay us four hundred dollars.”

I nearly choke on my drink, “Four hundred dollars? I don't even have four hundred dollars!”

“Then you’d better confess.”

My jaw drops, “You two are evil.”

“We prefer motivational.”

I look back at Ethan, still laughing, still perfect, completely out of my league. And my heart does that stupid, strange thing again.

“What if he says no?”

Neither of them answers immediately; then Chloe shrugs, “At least you will finally know.”

My stomach twists. She’s right. If I don't confront him now, I will never know if he likes me or not.

Yet I remain glued to my seat, with my pulse pounding loudly in my ears. Maybe he likes me too. Or maybe I’ve been delusional this whole time.

Before I can lose my nerve, Kimberly suddenly places both hands on my back, “Go.”

My eyes nearly pop out, “What?”

She shoves me hard, and I stumble straight into the middle of the crowd. Every conversation dies. Every head turns, including Ethan’s.

His hazel eyes meet mine. Oh God. At least fifty people are watching. Maybe more. I should run. Actually, I'm going to run, I spin around.

“Skye.” His deep voice stops me cold.

I freeze. Did he… did Ethan just say my name? Slowly I turn back.

He smiles politely, “You looked like you wanted to tell me something.”

My heart begins sprinting faster than any football player ever could. This is it.

I either become the happiest girl on earth or the biggest clown in the history of Royal Haven University.

I swallow hard, “I….” My fingers twist around the hem of my skirt. “I've liked you for a long time.”

Silence falls. Slowly, his smile fades, and I know it, before he even speaks; I do.

“You have….liked me?” he asks carefully.

I nod, “so…maybe…” my voice shakes. “maybe we could hang out sometime?”

He exhales slowly, “I'm sorry, Skye.”

Four simple words, yet they hit harder than a punch.

“I think you are really a sweet girl,” his voice is gentle, almost apologetic, “but I don't feel that way.”

The world suddenly feels so quiet. “Oh.” It’s the only thing my brain could produce.

“I've never wanted to give you the wrong idea.”

I force a smile that probably looks more painful than convincing, “It’s okay.”

It’s not. Not even close.

“I’ve always seen you as,” he hesitates, “a little sister.”

Something inside me cracks. Around us, people whistle, another person snorts, then another. Within seconds, whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

“She got rejected.”

“I knew she wasn't interested.”

“Did you see her face?”

Heat floods my cheeks. No. No. Please don't let this become a scene.

I laugh, a horrible fake laugh, “right….of course.”

I take a shaky step backward, “We are basically family,” my voice doesn't even sound like mine anymore.

Another laugh erupts behind me; someone has already pulled out their phone, the tiny camera lens points directly at me. Oh God. They are recording. My stomach twists violently.

I need to leave, now.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble, though I don't even know who I'm apologizing to.

I turn so quickly that my leg catches on the edge of a chair; my ankle twists. The room spins in my vision.

I pitch forward and slam face-first onto the hardwood floor. The sound echoes through the fraternity house.

For half a second, silence. Then laughter explodes—loud, merciless. My palms sting. My knees burn. But neither hurts as much as the humiliation crushing my chest.

I stay on the floor, wishing it would open and swallow me whole.

Then, a pair of expensive black sneakers stop inches from my face. The laughter begins to die.

A cold, dangerous voice cuts through the room.

“What the hell is so funny?”

Silence. Complete silence. I don't look up. I can't. Not after becoming the biggest joke on campus.