Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more New Adult titles from Entangled Embrace… Shadows You Left
Promise Me
Falling for the Player
Under a Storm-Swept Sky
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Susan Mesler-Evans. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 105, PMB 159
Fort Collins, CO 80525
[email protected]
Embrace is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Candace Havens
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover illustrations by 7romawka7, aekikuis, and mayalis/GettyImages
ISBN 978-1-64063-800-6
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition October 2019
Dear Reader,
Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.
xoxo
Liz Pelletier, Publisher
For Kat – the Lizzy to my Charlotte.
Chapter One
In Which Elisa Benitez Meets the Most Obnoxious Girl Ever
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a good fortune must be…difficult.
“Difficult” was the word Elisa’s mother used when she really wanted to say “ridiculously, impossibly infuriating.” It was also the first word that came to mind when Elisa met Darcy Fitzgerald.
Of course, more than one person had claimed that Elisa could be difficult.
Maybe this is karma.
It had been, overall, a terrible first meeting. And the argument that ensued had started the way many arguments do: in a college classroom, over a book by a guy who was too dead, she presumed, to care.
Elisa had been on a college campus precisely once before, when her older sister Julieta had graduated with her Associate’s. At the time, the students of Steventon Community College had seemed apathetic toward everyone around them and the campus appeared small and easy to navigate. It was a different story now that she was a student there herself. Suddenly, everyone was staring at her, the map on the website was completely useless, and her breakfast was threatening to reappear.
Even so, Elisa got to class ten minutes ahead of schedule and was surprised to find that she wasn’t the only one. Sliding into an empty seat in the front row, she cast her brown eyes around, surveying the other early birds. She was clearly the youngest person there, though not by much—she was eighteen, and most of the others looked to be in their twenties or so. A couple of jocks sat in the back row, huddled over someone’s phone, and three girls sat in the row behind Elisa, chattering away about their summer vacations. The professor, it appeared, wasn’t there yet.
Another girl, who couldn’t have been much older than her, sat alone at the end of her row. With her warm brown skin and wavy hair, she was…
Well, I certainly don’t use the phrase “prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” lightly.
She’d brought a book with her and seemed determined to not look at, much less make eye contact with, anyone else in the room.
Elisa, deciding to take her chances with the only other unaccompanied person in the room, offered the girl a smile and a small wave.
“Hi,” she said. “Is it your first day of college, too?”
The other girl’s dark eyes left the book she’d brought with her, and Elisa got the impression she hadn’t noticed her until just now. “No.” Her voice was lower than Elisa had expected, and so soft, she almost wasn’t sure she’d said anything. “I started last semester.”
“Did you go to Steventon Public High? I don’t think I ever saw you. I’m actually a senior there. I finished all my credits already, so they said I could start here early if I wanted.”
When the school had offered Elisa the chance, she’d had three thoughts at once:
Hey, being a teacher’s pet who never goes outside finally paid off.
Wait, does this mean I don’t have to do the application essay?
I never have to fight through the demonic circle that is the west hallway to get to my locker ever again? TAKE ME NOW.
“I wish I’d done that,” the other girl said. “I don’t miss high school at all. But to answer your question, no, I just got into town last week.”
“Oh, do you like it here?”
“Not really, no.”
Elisa wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. So she just went with, “Ah.”
Five minutes passed, and the professor still hadn’t shown. Some students seemed perfectly happy with this arrangement, continuing to talk or text, while others squirmed in their seats and glanced at their watches, asking the others if they’d possibly gotten the start time wrong.
Elisa cleared her throat and threw an idea out to the room: “Maybe we should call the registrar’s office or some—”
One of the jocks in the back row cut her off. “You know, there’s a rule that if the professor doesn’t show up after fifteen minutes, we can just leave.”
She bristled. There was no such rule. She had checked.
“But if ever the prof really is fifteen minutes late,” her father had said, “leave anyway. That’s what I always did, and I graduated with a three point eight.”
Before she could say anything, the girl who’d brought a book with her spoke. Her eyes didn’t leave the page.
“I don’t think that rule is official, and even if it were, it hasn’t even been fifteen minutes yet.” Man, her voice had a way of quieting a room. “And don’t interrupt people. It’s rude.”
The jock rolled his eyes and droned, “Thanks, Mom, I’ll keep that in mind,” which earned him a few laughs from the other students. Even so, Elisa noticed the red creeping up his cheeks, and she smiled.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the girl, who didn’t respond beyond a small nod.
Sitting in a room full of people—all older and at least outwardly more comfortable than her—was doing a number on Elisa’s nerves. She hadn’t loved high school—especially not since her best friend had graduated two years earlier—but at least she’d known what she was doing.
Here? No idea. Totally flying blind.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Okay. Wow. I’ve been here less than fifteen minutes, I’ve spoken to two people, and I’m already spiraling. Get it together, Benitez.
On that thought, she reached into her pocket for her brick of a smartphone, which was a few years out of date but worked okay and was basically indestructible. Seriously. She could probably take someone’s teeth out if she threw it at them hard enough.
She reread the text her father had sent to her that morning.
Good morning, college student. Let me know how your first day of classes go. Remember: confidence, eye contact, and it is virtually always cheaper to find PDFs of your textbooks somewhere online. Legally bought PDFs, of course. You DEFINITELY shouldn’t look and see if anyone’s put them up for free someplace. And, on that note, you absolutely should NOT Google your homework questions to see if anyone’s put up a cheat sheet for the full assignment. That would be irresponsible of me to explicitly encourage. Love you.
Elisa smiled. Papa had a way of easing the knots in her stomach, even over text.
Finally, nearly ten minutes after class was supposed to begin, the door opened and a woman rushed in, throwing her briefcase onto the desk.
“Good morning, everyone.” The professor had unkempt hair and her blouse was buttoned up wrong, but she was making an effort to be energetic and cheerful anyway. Elisa offered a small smile in return. The girl at the end of the row just grimaced as she put her book away. “I’m Professor Maya DeCaro, and this is Introduction to Literature. While I get my roster pulled up, why don’t we go around the room and share a little about ourselves?” The suggestion was met with stray groans. “You.” She looked directly at Elisa, and she felt her stomach twist. Even though she knew exactly what her professor was about to say, she still prayed that she wouldn’t. But then came the cursed words: “Go ahead and get us started, will you? Your name, your age, something about yourself.”
“Um—” Crap. “Okay.” Crap.
Elisa stood, trying her best to smile and look somewhat convincing. Every eye in the room was on her, including those of the girl at the end of the row.
“I’m Elisa Benitez,” she said. “I’m a senior in high school, actually—and, um, I’m… I’m the second of five girls.”
“Oh, would I know your sisters?” Professor DeCaro asked, looking up from her computer.
“Julieta, maybe. She graduated with her associate’s degree a couple years ago.”
“Oh, Julieta Benitez, of course.” The professor’s face lit up with a fond smile. “She was such a lovely girl. Smart, too.”
Elisa nodded, smiling back. That didn’t surprise her much—Julieta could get along with anyone. Any professor who’d taught her was guaranteed to like her. It was impossible not to. Even Lucia, her youngest sister, looked up to her.
Elisa sat back down, and they moved on to the other girl. She stood, but she didn’t so much as crack a smile.
“I’m Darcy Fitzgerald.”
Elisa barely kept her jaw from dropping, and she wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Two girls in the row behind them immediately began whispering to each other, their eyes wide. Elisa distinctly heard one of the guys in the back row mutter, “Holy sh…”
Elisa couldn’t really blame them. It was as if a Hilton or a Kardashian was sitting in their classroom. Everyone knew the Fitzgerald family. Elisa had been aware that they lived in the general area of Steventon, Ohio, but she never imagined she’d meet one. Elisa rarely left town, and the Fitzgeralds were always off doing…
Well, she was never sure what, exactly, it was that they did. The family had been well-known since her parents were teenagers, maybe even before that. These days, they were simply famous for being famous.
The Fitzgeralds were almost offensively rich. So, what the hell was their prodigal daughter doing in a community college in Steventon?
“I’m nineteen,” Darcy continued, voice inflections barely changing. “And I’m the oldest of two, unless you count my older cousin, with whom I was raised.”
She sat back down before anyone could comment. The professor apparently got the message because she swiftly moved on to the next person.
Elisa glanced at her, trying not to be too obvious. Darcy seemed committed to the whole “I’d rather be anywhere else,” vibe she had going on. Dark clothes, including a pair of shoes that probably cost more than all of her textbooks combined, matched her mood, her lips twisted into a semi-permanent scowl.
She’s hot in a mean-girl sort of way. And so out of my league.
And Elisa’s “interesting fact” was that she had sisters. She wondered why of all possible things to say, she’d chosen her birth order. Her excuse was that her sisters were really the most exciting thing in any given day. The Fitzgeralds had plenty going on.
The class got through the introductions, and the professor told everyone to get out their copies of the first book: Lord of the Flies. When she saw it on the book list for the semester, Elisa had groaned out loud. She’d had to study it in high school and had often found herself wondering if the teacher was punishing the class for something.
“Has anyone read this book?” Professor DeCaro asked.
About half the hands in the room went up, including Elisa and Darcy’s.
“What did you think?” the instructor asked, then paused before saying, “Not that it’ll change anything—we’re reading it no matter what.”
Crap.
“I liked it a lot,” Darcy said. “I thought it was really well-written, and I think it’s a very accurate message, especially given our current political climate.”
Elisa spoke up before anyone else had the chance. “Oh, come on—that’s a little cynical, don’t you think?”
Now Darcy was looking at her. “Maybe.”
“I’m not wild about our political situation, either, but I have to disagree,” Elisa said.
“Your disagreeing doesn’t keep me from being right.”
“Wow.” Elisa actually had to laugh. “Come on. You can’t honestly believe people are all bad.”
“History proves that, given enough of a chance, humans will tear each other to shreds.”
“But the message of the book—at least, the way I was taught it—isn’t as clear-cut as ‘humans are bastards.’ I thought the point was that people who are relatively privileged—in this case, English schoolboys—aren’t any better than anybody else, and that they’re capable of doing awful things when they’re removed from consequences and authority figures.”
Darcy gave this some thought. “I think things would’ve eventually gone to hell even if all the students in Lord of the Flies were female,” she said. “Although the details probably would’ve played out differently. It’s an interesting point, to think about how changing the genders would change the story.”
A guy in the back row threw out, “Man, I’d hate to be on that island. Groups of girls are crazy. Away from civilization, it’d be anarchy.”
Both girls responded at once, looking away from each other to glare at him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Elisa said, while Darcy said, “The idea that women can’t get along is a myth, which you might know if any woman anywhere would give you the time of day.”
Professor DeCaro tried to intervene. “Hey, now…”
The guy had gone red, but he defended himself. “I was just joking,” he said. “I make one joke, and suddenly I’m the jerk?”
Elisa took a sharp breath. “Yes. Exactly. Glad we agree.”
“That’s not f—”
“Okay, rule of thumb: if your joke’s punchline is ‘women be crazy, amirite?’, it’s not a very good joke, and you’re probably just an asshole.”
“Hey.” The professor’s voice was sterner now. Elisa cringed.
“Hey, what?” Darcy asked, eyes sparking as she looked at her. “I think she was imparting some very good advice.”
Did she jus
t mouth off at the teacher? On the first day? Toto, I don’t think we’re in high school anymore.
Professor DeCaro had the look of someone who was counting down the days until retirement. “Let’s keep personal insults, gender stereotyping, and profanity out of our class discussion, okay, ladies? And that goes for you, too, gentlemen.”
Darcy shrugged. “Fine by me. Where were we?”
“Whether or not humans are evil,” Elisa said.
“Right. Thank you. Anyway, Golding wrote the book to make a point,” she said. “The point was that no group—be it sex, race, financial background—is immune to savagery, under the right circumstances.”
“Well, yeah, of course no one is immune,” she conceded. “But I think hard times bring out the best in most people, much more than it brings out the worst in others. I think if you give people a fair chance, most of them will try to help. People are inherently good.”
“I disagree.”
“Your disagreeing doesn’t keep me from being right.”
Darcy’s face gave away nothing, but there was a flicker—just a flicker—of emotion in her eyes. Whether it was amusement or annoyance, Elisa couldn’t tell. With Darcy, there probably wasn’t much difference.
The professor hastily called on someone else, not giving them an opening to start up again, and Elisa flipped through the pages, resigning herself to reading the book again. She glanced over at Darcy once more and caught her looking over at her. Both girls quickly turned their gazes back to their books, pretending they hadn’t noticed the other.
Okay, Elisa, you’ve got a pretentious classmate who is so pretty it’s just not fair, and a book you hate. But it could be worse. You could be back at the high school. Remember the locker? The square-dancing unit in gym class? The cafeteria food?
It could always be worse.
…
Elisa didn’t have any other classes on Mondays, which meant she was back home by noon. Of course, it balanced out because she was on campus from ten in the morning to five in the evening on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with only ninety minutes free in the early afternoon to rush home to eat lunch. At least the campus is only a twenty-minute drive.
She lived with her mother and sisters in the Longbourn Apartment Complex, which had issues of its own. Longbourn probably looked downright appalling to those that hadn’t been there all their lives and had time to get used to it. It had a recurring problem with rats that resurfaced every three years or so, the washing machines in the laundry room only worked about half the time, and the landlord actually had the nerve to jack up the rent recently. But, still, it was home. Elisa had lived there, in the same apartment, for her entire life. And even a rat-ridden, overpriced pit had its upsides.
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