Prologue
Harper’s tummy felt funny; like there were a million butterflies taking up space inside. It didn’t matter how many times she inhaled, the butterflies never disappeared, not even a little.
“Yo, Sweets!”
Sixteen-year-old Harper Sweet’s head snapped up at the call of her nickname. Her hands instinctively tightened around the bat resting in her palms as she gazed across the field, staring into laughing, ice-blue eyes.
“You’re up!” Konstantine “Koz” Vetrov—Harper thought he had the weirdest but coolest name ever some days—shouted from the pitcher’s mound. He was grinning, teasing her, and she knew why.
Harper wasn’t surprised. That was the norm between her and Koz, her older brother Owen’s best friend. She and her sibling were extremely close, and somehow that had extended to Konstantine. From the age of six he’d been taunting her, poking her, pulling her hair and calling her that stupid nickname.
Most kids thought it was because her last name was Sweet . Those close to them knew it was because Harper had a serious sugar addiction. When she wasn’t on the field playing softball, like today, she was in the kitchen helping her mama bake amazing desserts.
Stepping up to the base so she could bat, she raised it, ready for Konstantine. She had a lot to lose this time around. Even though it was just a normal ballgame between the neighborhood kids that each of them drafted for occasional Saturday games, she and Konstantine had made a bet.
If she lost, she had to kiss him and subject herself to being his date on Friday night at the junior Valentine’s Day dance. Harper shuddered a little. If he lost, he had to bring pompoms to every one of her league games, when he wasn’t playing himself, and cheer for her on the sidelines the whole time. It was a deal too sweet to pass up—no pun intended. The thing Harper kept questioning, though, was why did he want to kiss her?
It wasn’t like she thought she was ugly or anything. It was just that Konstantine was...well, Konstantine. She’d seen him laugh, cry, and throw up, so him asking to kiss her was just weird. But she really didn’t have a choice but to go through with it.
“If you strike out we win the game, Sweets!” Konstantine called out.
Harper narrowed her eyes on him. “Then I won’t strike out!”
With a smirk, he pulled his arm back, wound up, and pitched. With a deep breath, she waited until the ball was right where it needed to be and swung, her bat vibrating from the connection it made. With wide eyes, she watched it fly. It kept going...and going...and going...and then...it landed right in Mitch Russo’s mitt.
“No!” Harper cried, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine threw up his hands as the rest of his team celebrated their victory.
She stood there, staring off blindly as everyone left the field, laughing and heading home while Konstantine walked closer, his smile as broad as humanly possible.
“Time to pay up, Sweets.”
One
Sixteen years later...
Why was this feeling so familiar? The sensation of butterflies tumbling around inside her gut had Harper shifting from one foot to the other restlessly. It was almost impossible to stay completely still, so she’d given up trying about twenty minutes ago. Instead she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes scanning the hordes of people walking past her, never once allowing her gaze to stray too far from his gate.
She wasn’t exactly ready,so whatever extra amount of time she could get once she saw him approaching, seconds she could use to unscramble her brain, would be valued.
“Sweets?”
It didn’t matter that it had been years since she heard that voice without the help of a computer. It didn’t matter that as soon as it hit her ears, getting a lungful of air seemed like a distant memory. All that mattered was...
“I’ve told you about that goddamn nickname!” Harper spun around and stopped dead in her tracks. She had
Harper’s tummy felt funny; like there were a million butterflies taking up space inside. It didn’t matter how many times she inhaled, the butterflies never disappeared, not even a little.
“Yo, Sweets!”
Sixteen-year-old Harper Sweet’s head snapped up at the call of her nickname. Her hands instinctively tightened around the bat resting in her palms as she gazed across the field, staring into laughing, ice-blue eyes.
“You’re up!” Konstantine “Koz” Vetrov—Harper thought he had the weirdest but coolest name ever some days—shouted from the pitcher’s mound. He was grinning, teasing her, and she knew why.
Harper wasn’t surprised. That was the norm between her and Koz, her older brother Owen’s best friend. She and her sibling were extremely close, and somehow that had extended to Konstantine. From the age of six he’d been taunting her, poking her, pulling her hair and calling her that stupid nickname.
Most kids thought it was because her last name was Sweet . Those close to them knew it was because Harper had a serious sugar addiction. When she wasn’t on the field playing softball, like today, she was in the kitchen helping her mama bake amazing desserts.
Stepping up to the base so she could bat, she raised it, ready for Konstantine. She had a lot to lose this time around. Even though it was just a normal ballgame between the neighborhood kids that each of them drafted for occasional Saturday games, she and Konstantine had made a bet.
If she lost, she had to kiss him and subject herself to being his date on Friday night at the junior Valentine’s Day dance. Harper shuddered a little. If he lost, he had to bring pompoms to every one of her league games, when he wasn’t playing himself, and cheer for her on the sidelines the whole time. It was a deal too sweet to pass up—no pun intended. The thing Harper kept questioning, though, was why did he want to kiss her?
It wasn’t like she thought she was ugly or anything. It was just that Konstantine was...well, Konstantine. She’d seen him laugh, cry, and throw up, so him asking to kiss her was just weird. But she really didn’t have a choice but to go through with it.
“If you strike out we win the game, Sweets!” Konstantine called out.
Harper narrowed her eyes on him. “Then I won’t strike out!”
With a smirk, he pulled his arm back, wound up, and pitched. With a deep breath, she waited until the ball was right where it needed to be and swung, her bat vibrating from the connection it made. With wide eyes, she watched it fly. It kept going...and going...and going...and then...it landed right in Mitch Russo’s mitt.
“No!” Harper cried, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine threw up his hands as the rest of his team celebrated their victory.
She stood there, staring off blindly as everyone left the field, laughing and heading home while Konstantine walked closer, his smile as broad as humanly possible.
“Time to pay up, Sweets.”
One
Sixteen years later...
Why was this feeling so familiar? The sensation of butterflies tumbling around inside her gut had Harper shifting from one foot to the other restlessly. It was almost impossible to stay completely still, so she’d given up trying about twenty minutes ago. Instead she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes scanning the hordes of people walking past her, never once allowing her gaze to stray too far from his gate.
She wasn’t exactly ready,so whatever extra amount of time she could get once she saw him approaching, seconds she could use to unscramble her brain, would be valued.
“Sweets?”
It didn’t matter that it had been years since she heard that voice without the help of a computer. It didn’t matter that as soon as it hit her ears, getting a lungful of air seemed like a distant memory. All that mattered was...
“I’ve told you about that goddamn nickname!” Harper spun around and stopped dead in her tracks. She had