It's almost over. Two more minutes, and then Dr. Garcia will dismiss us, and summer break will officially start. I tap my nails on my pink notebook and glance around.

His Majesty The Nerd is in the front row, sitting next to his minion. I pity the girl a little. He's not even into her, but he's been stringing her along since September. Basti is as toxic as they come, so probably that's why they have their weird situationship. Or maybe it's his looks. I might hate The Nerd, but I have eyes. He's not ugly on the outside. The inside is another story, but I'm positive the girl wearing awful glasses knows what she's buying, which is damaged goods without a discount. With no price tag.

"Have a good summer, everyone." Dr. Garcia smiles. His eyes pause on me, and I smile back. He's one of my favorite professors, knowledgeable and strict. Although I was mad at him for pairing me up with Sebastian, he must've had his reasons, and getting a good grade in Philosophy was more important than my dislike of The Nerd. It was only one subject, after all, and only one year.

Everyone jumps to their feet and starts gathering their stuff. Sebastian gives me a look full of distaste, but instead of ignoring him, I grab my purse and the notebook and descend the steps until I'm by his side.

"Have a nice nerdy summer, Basti," I say with my fakest grin.

"Have an awful one, Barbie." He smirks, picking up his backpack. "And I guess... See you never."

The minion snickers beside him, and I hold my index finger up. "Wait... Elena, right?"

Her eyes narrow behind the ugly, black-rimmed accessory as if she didn't expect I'd know her name after being in the same class for a year.

She nods, and I wink. "Change the glasses. The frame doesn't suit you."

I waltz out of the lecture hall without waiting to see her and Basti's reaction and collide with Drew Evans. The impact steals the air from my lungs, and I gasp, staggering back.

"Careful, baby girl." Drew laughs, putting his heavy arm around me. "Where's the fire?"

"No fire. I was just happy to escape."

Sebastian and Elena exit the classroom. His eyes pause on Drew, and he tips his chin up in a hello.

"See you at the gym?" Drew asks him.

Sebastian slides his gaze over the two of us. "Sure."

"You have to choose your friends better," I say once he leaves.

Drew rolls his eyes. "Nah. He's not a bad guy, just a bit grouchy. Are you gonna work out with me?"

Drew is a wide receiver for our college football team. We met at the gym my freshman year. He laughed at the clumsy way I did push-ups and offered to teach me. After working out together for several weeks, we became friends. Drew helped me with my workouts, and I lent him a hand with his assignments so he wouldn't lose his sports scholarship.

"Sorry, can't. I'm going home today. What about you?"

Drew sighs. "Tomorrow. Let's hope I can find a summer job to help Mom out."

"I'll tell you if I know of any," I say, rubbing his massive arm.

"No worries." His eyes twinkle. "Enjoy your break. You never stop, and it must be exhausting."

Heat warms my cheeks because Drew paid more attention to my schedule than I'm comfortable with. As we say goodbye, I mentally go through the list of my acquaintances who could offer him a job. My father's restaurant would be the obvious choice if he wanted me anywhere near the business, but maybe I could stop by when he isn't there and talk to the manager, Rick, instead. Drew needs it—his mom is raising his three younger siblings on her own, and anything he could earn would help.

Outside the Humanities building, the day is balmy and bright. I stroll to my Maserati and toss my purse onto the passenger seat. As I start the car and reverse out of my parking spot, I catch Elena looking at me. She's standing a few feet away, partly hidden by the green shrubs that dot the campus. The temptation to wave is strong, but I decide against it. I'm more than sure I made an enemy today, and I know better than to poke a snake with a stick and wait to see what happens.

Half an hour later, I park next to Fashion Victim downtown. When my friend Kenny came up with the name, I instantly knew it'd be a hit, and I wasn't wrong. His boutique gained loyal clientele within a couple of weeks, and soon he'll be able to open another store.

As I make my way in, my eyes rove over the new outfits on the mannequins, and my stomach drops. What I hoped to see isn't there, at least not yet.

"Tara." The door to the staff area swings open, and Kenny rushes toward me. As soon as he catches up to me, he air-kisses my cheeks, beaming. "The shopping queen herself."

"Stop." I laugh. "Guess you saw the latest pictures?"

"Saw, shared, liked," Kenny says. "Not that you need it with almost a million followers, but still."

"Your opinion matters, and you know it. And if you create girls' clothes, you know you'll have customers brought by yours truly."

"Working on it. You could also help men. Some are hopeless in the fashion department."

"That's a future possibility." I approach one of the racks and carefully browse the selection of T-shirts with prints.

Behind me, Kenny lets out a quiet laugh. "I hid it, but it's ready."

Swinging around, I give him a tight hug and kiss his cheek. "You're the best."

He pats my back and disappears through the door leading to his office, only to return with a T-shirt a minute later. Kenny spreads it on the counter, and I run my fingertips over the colorful wings of a butterfly plastered on the front of the garment.

"It's stunning," I say. "Thank you so much."

"We'll start selling them next week." Kenny grabs a roll of wrapping paper and prepares the gift while I lean against the counter, watching him work. "But I promised you'd have it earlier. Hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will," I say. "And I'm going to pay. Please."

Kenny shakes his head. The bright store lights bounce off the diamond studs in his ears, distracting me from his stubbornness.

"Done." He hands me the package. "This store wouldn't exist without you, Tara. If you think I'd let you pay for a tee when you did a promo for Fashion Victim without charging me a cent, you're insane."

"I just spread the word."

"And I just gave you a T-shirt with a butterfly."

I accept the wrapped gift. "Thank you. Just promise you won't give me anything else for free."

"Don't you have a birthday party to go to?" Kenny asks. "Shoo. Go away."

His blue eyes shine with affection, and I still feel them on me as I march to the door and exit the store.

It's late afternoon by the time I enter the code to unlock the gate of our mansion. My car rolls down the tree-lined driveway, and I take in the manicured lawns and colorful flowerbeds before opening the garage.

My father's SUV is missing. After killing the engine, I fetch my purse, the box with the birthday cake, and the wrapped present, and head into the house.

My Manolos click on the marble, but Cara doesn't hurry to say hi. Judging by the aromas wafting from the kitchen, she's busy getting dinner ready. I walk toward the smell, and my stomach grumbles louder with each step.

"Tell me it's Chicken Alfredo," I say, pausing in the doorway.

Cara drops the kitchen towel and brings both hands to her mouth. "Tara!"

"Didn't you know I was coming?"

Cara crosses the distance separating us and wraps me in her arms. She barely reaches my chin, but somehow, when she hugs me, I feel small, like a kid. Maybe it's because she's known me since I was one.

"I knew, I knew, but I'm happy you're here." She squeezes me tighter with each word, and it's not only because she missed me. She wants to make sure I haven't lost weight, which I haven't. I love my food, but I also love the gym.

"Dinner's almost ready," Cara says. "Your father's dining at the restaurant, so it's only you and me and our gossip time."

I kiss Cara's cheek. "Can't wait. But I have somewhere to be first."

I lift the box with the cake, and recognition flashes across her face.

"Ah, the boy. He's been waiting for you. Lurking."

"I don't think he was lurking. You watch too much TV, Carita. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Carita." Cara grimaces and swats me with a towel. "This isn't a soap opera."

"But if it were one, what would we call it?"

Cara's giggles fill the air, and my insides warm.

"I'll tell you when you're back," she says, adjusting her apron.

I blow her a kiss. "I won't be long."

♡♡♡

After unlocking the rusty gate, I take a couple of tentative steps toward the overgrown garden that resembles a jungle even more than the last time I was here. My three-inch heels sink into the gaps between the old paving stones. Not smart, Tara. I should've changed the shoes.

"Mav!" I call and listen in.

A few birds chirp, but then a voice says, "Here."

I round the old house and spot Mav sitting on a log with his back to me. My steps are slow as I approach him, afraid to interrupt what he's doing.

"Danaus plexippus," he says, studying the colorful butterfly perched on his index finger.

"A Monarch butterfly," I whisper, sitting next to him. "Happy birthday."

Maverick blushes. I lean my head on his shoulder, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. "You came."

Guilt sucker punches me in the gut. "Of course. You knew I would. I'm sorry for taking so long."

The butterfly bats its delicate wings and flies off Mav's hand. We watch it disappear among the tall grass without saying a word.

I'm the one who breaks the silence as I reach for the bag with the T-shirt. "I have something for you. A gift."

Mav takes it from me and unwraps it with care. A whispered 'wow' escapes him, and that alone is enough to make me forget everything that went wrong over the last week, if not month.

"Thank you, Tara."

His expression radiates joy, and I pat his knee. "I hope you'll wear it."

Mav cocks his head to the side. "I will."

I consider asking him to try it on right now, especially because he's clad in one of the too-warm flannel shirts he wears no matter the weather, but I don't want to push. Mav is used to doing things at his own pace, and I respect that.

Sometimes it's hard to remember he's twenty-one, a year older than me. I've always seen him as someone who needs protection, even when we were kids.

His gaze lands on the box with the cake.

"I also brought the candles," I say.

"Maverick," his Mom calls.

I hop to my feet and rub my palms together. "Let's celebrate."

Some new characters appeared in this chapter. What do you think?

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