I used to love fairy tales. When I was a
little kid, my mom would read to me before bed every night. Cinderella , Sleeping Beauty - I must have heard them a
hundred times over, but still, I couldn’t get enough. The brave
heroines, the beautiful dresses, the big gala balls. And of course,
the handsome prince. No matter what evil spell the witch cast, or
how fierce the dragon was, he would always show up in time to win
the princess’s heart and restore good to the world.
I don’t know when I stopped believing in happily
ever after. Maybe it was when my dad walked out on us, back when I
was just four years old. Maybe it was the first time I found my mom
high: slumped on the bathroom floor with a glassy smile on her face
and an empty vial of Oxy in her outstretched palm. Or maybe it was
when she walked out for good, left me and my brothers alone like we
didn’t mean a thing.
Either way, by the summer I turned sixteen, I
knew: fairy tales weren’t real. There was no godmother coming to
wave her magic wand over my crappy life, and Prince Charming would
only leave in the end, leaving me heartbroken and alone. So I
swore, I wouldn’t fall for his bullshit. I would never let myself
believe in love.
I wouldn’t make my mom’s mistakes.
I took what I wanted from guys, and didn’t care
about the whispers that followed me around town. I didn’t give a
damn if they thought I was some trailer trash slut, my heart was
safe behind my barricades, walls built high enough to keep anyone
out.
Until Hunter Covington smiled at me one bright
July afternoon, and my defenses came crashing to the ground.
I couldn’t help it. He was gorgeous, charming,
rich. The golden boy of Beachwood Bay--and the last guy who would
ever look twice at a messed up girl like me. But my heart didn’t
care.
I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted
anything. Just a taste of his perfection, a glimpse of what it felt
like in the safety of his embrace. Just one night to believe in the
dream I knew I could never have.
One night. Just one night, that was all I
wanted.
But what would happen when morning came?
***
It’s the last night of summer, and I’m stuck
in a suit and tie, about to lose my goddamn mind in the middle of
my parents’ stupid dinner party.
“Summer in Beachwood has been lovely as always,”
my mother coos to her collection of friends--an identical group of
Botox and beaming insincerity. “But I can’t wait to get back to
civilization in the city. And of course, Hunter will be joining his
brother at Yale. We’re so proud. He can’t wait, can you,
darling?”
I murmur a reply. What I can’t wait to do is
tear off this damn tie and get the hell out of here, but dad made
it clear: attendance was mandatory.
“Here’s your drink, bro.” My brother Jace hands
me a tumbler of clear liquid. “Club soda, right?” He winks, and
when I take a sip, I taste a healthy dash of vodka in the mix.
God, I love my brother.
“Have you declared your major yet?” One of the
blondes asks Jace.
Before he can reply, my father interrupts.
“Business, with a minor in Econ.” He slaps Jace on the back. “Just
what he needs to join his old man at the firm. He’s been working
with me this summer, learning the ropes.”
“More like working on my golf swing.” Jace
quips.
“Now now,” my dad chortles, “plenty of important
deals have been sealed on that green. It’s all part of your
responsibility as a Covington.”
“As long as my responsibilities include an
after-game drink at the clubhouse, I’m set.”
The room laughs along with dad and Jace. “Like
father like son,” one of the guests remarks, and I down the rest of
my drink in a single swallow.
I hate these parties. Jace can turn on the charm
and play along, but every word of small talk just sticks in my
throat. What’s the point? I want to yell. Especially tonight, with
college looming over me like a prison sentence. I’ve managed to
ignore it all summer,
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