The Color Project

by Sierra Abrams

  An alarm, loud and clear and shrill, echoes across the lake, coming from Levi’s pocket. I cringe. “What. Is. That?”

  He groans and pulls out his phone. “Time to drive back to the hotel. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, and I mean it. I just want to be with him.

  “My mom wants to see you before she leaves, anyway.”

  “She’s at the event?” We haven’t moved to leave yet, so I slide a little closer, savoring these last few moments alone.

  Levi grins. “Awesome, huh? My dad’s a loser, and Mom always wanted to come anyway. I think everyone’s happy with this arrangement.” He squeezes my hand, pumping it twice. “Ready?”

  I squeeze back. “Thank you for this, Levi.”

  He kisses me on the nose, murmuring the sweetest, softest “You’re welcome” that I feel from the tip of my nose to the bottoms of my feet. And then I let him carry me again: past the reeds, back up the hill, along the path to the parking lot. He helps me in, not letting go of my hand until he has to close the door, but then he’s in the driver’s seat and holding my hand again.

  Once we’ve started driving again, the silence of the lake behind us, I turn up Bon Iver and let the sounds consume us, louder than the last time. We sing along this time, both of our voices clashing with the music, neither of us caring. He laughs when my voice cracks, but then he forgets an entire verse, and I get to laugh back.

  Then Levi pulls up to the stop sign just before the main road, and since there’s no one ahead of us or behind us, he looks over at me. When our eyes lock, I reach behind his head and pull him toward me and kiss him. Right there in the middle of the car, in the middle of the road, with the band he loves playing in the background and my heart completely in his hands.

  We weave ourselves together. I let him kiss me and kiss me and kiss me, his hands on my arms, our faces so close they could be melded together, our clothes completely out of sorts. My crown braid swiftly comes out of its bobby pins, and his hair has been so ruined that I know it won’t go back to how he had it before.

  A familiar ache blooms in my heart. I can’t breathe without it spilling out—through my bloodstream, over my bones, into my skin. It isn’t just a part of me; it’s what makes me alive. It’s what makes me his. What makes him mine.

  Approaching headlights startle us back to reality, the car zooming past our hidden road. We sit back in our seats, breathing like we’ve just run up the mountain. “No more,” Levi huffs. “Stop distracting me.”

  I laugh at him, and he pushes on the accelerator, a little hard, a little excited, which makes me laugh harder. With the mountain road winding ahead and his hand over mine on the console, I have the loveliest thought: Us, driving on forever and ever (him in his blue suit and me in my gold dress), heading straight into the sun, where I imagine the whole world is lit up in glory, and we are at the heart of it all.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  I’ll be surprised if I can do the thankfulness in my heart any justice on this page, but I’ll try my best.

  Mama and Papa, thank you for not looking at me like I was crazy the day I told you I wanted to quit school and write full time. I’m here because of that decision, and having you on my team has made it possible. I owe you big. Emmy, Haven, and Timmy – I love you dorks so much. E&H, thanks for lending your personalities to Astrid and Millicent. The book is brighter because of them.

  Carlyn, my Parabatai. Thank you for always being the first to hear an idea, the first to read snippets, and the first to get a document with the manuscript in your inbox. Thank you for loving all these crazy ideas I have and pushing me to be a better writer. I love you.

  Cassie – I could never ever repay you for the hours you spent walking me through all my spastic freak-outs over this book and all the others. For giving me a million good ideas and listening to me rant about a billion more (good, bad, and ugly). Thank you for being the Ryodan to my Barrons.

  Lauz – I don’t know what I’d do without you. Why is the pond so big? I miss you painfully much. Thank you for everything you do for me. I’m so glad you found me, Bebby France.

  Thank you to the two ladies who edited TCP as we uncovered its final form: Nicolette and Rebecca. You are both queens.

  I’m ridiculously blown away by all the hard work that every single one of my 30 beta readers went through to help me get to where I am now. Some of them even read it two and three times to help me get it exactly where I needed it. You were the first people to say, “Hey, you’ve got something good here.” You were the first to cry to me about sad things. The first to tell me what to fix, the first to fight over Levi. The first to say you connected with Bee. Thank you specifically to Marisa, Ellen, Hannah, Amelia, Mika, and Liz for all giving me advice that wildly changed this book for the better.

  Thank you to my fellow 2017 debuts who have taken me under their wings and loved on me through thick and thin. I’m so blessed to be in this year with you.

  I owe the biggest thanks to all the reviewers who stepped up and said, “Sierra, we’re going to make this book happen.” You did this. You did so much for me and this book and I’m so blessed by you all. Thank you to all of the Glitter Bombs – you seriously took on that name and blew me away with your incredible devotion to spreading the word about this quiet little book baby. I can’t name every reviewer, but I do need to name a few (just kidding, a lot) specifically: Jess, Mithila, Nichol, Olivia, Destiny, Pragati, Whitney, Claire, Raneem, Mollie, Helena, Becky, Allison, Andrew, Christy, Danielle, Kathleen, Erika, Shannon, Aly, Kelly, Ivey, Ruzaika, Farhina, Aurora, Mo, Merith, Mariam, Angel, Stephanie, Krysti, Bethany, Charlie, and Katie. Among many, many others.

  Thank you to every person who donated to help me cover publishing costs. Your generosity blows my mind daily. I’m also so thankful to everyone who preordered and purchased TCP, and to every library or librarian who made TCP a part of your collection. You all make it possible for me to write more books.

  And thank you to my Creator, without whom I would not be here, and neither would this book. Thank You for loving me.

  About the Author

  At 7 years old, Sierra Abrams decided that one day she would publish a book. For over a decade, in between exploring other career options, she kept coming back to that very first dream. Now her life consists of writing books of all kinds... Kissing books, angsty books, killing books, whimsical books, and sometimes books that are all of the above. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading, traveling, consuming sushi, or daydreaming about Henry Cavill.