I was planning on being active and social this summer, but alas, there were sudden rain and thunderstorms every day, some more severe and concerning than others. There had been several accidents already.

For safety reasons, we weren't allowed to swim or spend too much time outdoors in case of a sudden storm. I didn't mind it, I had my books to keep me company. My best friend, Dee, on the other hand, was distraught. She was an extrovert and liked being around lots of people all the time, but she couldn't be this summer. Not when most teens weren't allowed to leave the house after 7 pm since it was after this time that the worst storms happened.

Like every night, the rain was heavy, the wind was howling and the thunder boomed so loud and hard sometimes that I felt the reverberations beneath my feet.

My parents were going to be home late but I had my book to keep me company while I waited for fatigue to creep up on me. I only ever read romance books. It could be any genre so long as there was some romance. I was a hopeless romantic but I'd never been in a relationship. All my 17 years and I hadn't even had a single boyfriend.

Another boom sounded but this time darkness followed.

Perfect.

I didn't know where I'd left my phone so I placed my book on the table and began feeling my way between the furniture and across the table for it. I stubbed my small toe on the foot of the table and cursed. I was convinced the small toe had some ability to navigate furniture in dark rooms.

I finally found my phone and turned on my flashlight. Thunder sounded again, fainter this time. It was coming in succession, and it took me a second to realise that it wasn't thunder, but a knock on the door.

It was almost 11 pm. Who would visit at this hour and in this weather? Only a psycho. That thought is what incited me to grab my baseball bat before I headed to the door.

"Who is it!" I shouted, my ear pressed against the door to hear the response. I called again but still, no response came.

I sighed, wondering if I was hearing things, but as I turned around to head upstairs I heard another knock followed by a faint, "help me."

I grabbed a large, metal cooking pan to go with the baseball bat.

I placed my phone in my mouth, the pan in one hand and the bat in the other. I unlatched the door and slowly opened it and I almost dropped my phone from my lack of resolve to keep my mouth shut.

A boy was lying on my porch. He had a long frame, a lean body, and an oh so very hot face.

I dropped my pan and took my phone from my mouth, flashing around to make sure there was no one else before I inched closer and flashed it at him, looking closer at his features.

He looked my age with jet black hair and wet tendrils stuck to his light brown skin. His eyes were a beautiful brown-green and he had beautiful lips and a jawline I imagined outlining with my fingers. And he—

He was bleeding!

I shrieked, storming into the house and banging the door shut, panting.

He was bleeding. Why?

I took a deep breath before opening and peeking through the door.

He was still there, and he was still bleeding. His hand was on his abdomen and it was unmistakably red. How did I get so distracted by his face that I didn't even notice that he was injured?

"Who are you?" I demanded, willing myself not to get distracted by his face. I thought hot guys like him only existed in books or movies or on Tik Tok.

I knew what this was. This was a set-up. A killer was trying to lure me in, to get me distracted by this hot guy before they came and stabbed me.

"Nice try!" I shouted into the darkness. "But I'm not that stupid so give up and go find another victim!" Wait, no, that wasn't right. I tried again, "give up and try again tomorrow!" That wasn't right either. "Give up and—!"

"Help. Please," the boy said, his expression desperate.

He really was hurt. But there were several other houses in the neighbourhood, so why did he have to come to mine?

Fate, the hopeless romantic side of my brain whispered, but I was sane enough to know otherwise. Happenstance, maybe, but not fate.

I tightened my grip on my bat and stalked outside, onto the porch. My eyes were darting around frantically, paranoid.

"Tell me who you are first, then I'll decide whether I want to help you or not."

"I am—" he grimaced, and I realised speaking caused him pain. But I needed to know who he was before I decided to help him. I was home alone, after all, so this was for my safety. "I am Prince Octavian Summers."

He coughed, and more blood came squirting from his wound, seeping through the hand keeping pressure on the wound.

The sight made me take action.

I ran back into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom where I grabbed the first aid kit then grabbed a flashlight from my room before rushing back outside. I knelt beside him and gently removed his hand from his wound. I placed the flashlight in my mouth then opened the first aid kit and grabbed scissors. I cut through his shirt, revealing the wound and his gorgeously handsome body beneath.

I treated the wound, occasionally glancing at his abs and pecks. He lost consciousness a couple of times, but the fact that he was still breathing when I was done meant I hadn't done a terrible job. I couldn't lift him into the house, nor could I drag him, so I brought a thick blanket to the porch and covered him with it instead.

Several minutes passed before he finally woke up again, and I used that time to help him into the house. I threw his arm around me and nearly tripped several times as I supported him. He had a unique scent, he smelt earthy yet sweet and subtle. I didn't want to lay him down in the lounge just in case my parents arrived so I took him up to my room instead. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit my pillow and slept for what felt like forever before he finally woke up again.

"Thank you," he said, and it was only then that I realised he had an accent. I hadn't heard it before, but it was hella attractive.

"Where are you from, Prince?"

"Prince?" He sounded surprised as if I had called him by something other than his name. "You may call me by my name, not my title."

"What?"

"My name is Octavian, my title is Prince."

Oh my goodness, I had let a psycho into my home. His title. What was that supposed to mean?

"I'm from the Kingdom of Summer," he said in response to my earlier question. Noting my confusion he added, "it is the greatest of the four Kingdoms."

"Let me guess, the other Kingdoms are Winter, Autumn and Spring?" I laughed at my joke, but to my surprise, he nodded. "You've got to be kidding me," I sighed to myself. "You're too cute to be crazy."

"I'm not crazy," he said solemnly. "I'm lost and I need to find my way back to my Kingdom to restore things to the way they were."

He told me that it was because he was here and not running his Kindom that the weather was out of control. The storms were a result of his absence, and they would only get worse the longer he was away. His very presence helped keep everything in order, and since he wasn't in his Kingdom, there was no order. I asked him why the King didn't take care of it, and he told me it was because the responsibilities had already been passed down to him and that he would only become the true King after his father passes away.

"I need to get back and I need your help."

"My help?!" I exclaimed. "How am I supposed to help you?"

"I don't know but," he took out what looked like a compass, "this led me to you, and I believe there's a reason for it."

I stared at him, dazed, before I rubbed my temples and mumbled to myself. "This is a book. I'm reading a book and I got too engrossed in the story and now I'm hallucinating."

"You're not hallucinating."

"Not only is he too hot to be real," I continued, "but—"

He laughed. A deep yet soft sound that made my heart clench in my chest.

Another boom sounded, but it wasn't from the thunder. I jumped to my feet. Someone had kicked down the door.

"You can't run for long, Octavian!" A voice boomed from downstairs.

"How did he find me?" I heard Octavian whisper to himself.

"Who? How did who find you?"

"The Prince of the Winter Kingdom." Octavian got up from the bed with a groan and then took my hand. "He's a tyrant and wants more power." He shut his eyes and his hand started getting warmer and warmer by the second. "He's trying to kill me, to get rid of Summer and create a permanent Winter, but he doesn't know what consequences will follow."

"What consequences will follow?"

He opened an eye and looked at me, his expression grave, "what do you think will happen if there's no Summer, no sun?"

My breath caught. No sun? The consequences were endless. Not only would there be darkness and lack of warmth, but plants needed sunlight to grow, and we needed plants for food and oxygen.

The Prince of Winter's steps beat against the stairs, signalling his approach.

"Will you help me return to my Kingdom and restore Summer?"

"I don't even know where your Kingdom is."

"You do," he said. "The compass led me to you for a reason."

"But—"

The Prince of Winter opened the door adjacent to mine. He was searching for us, and he was close.

"Will you come with me? Will you help me?" Octavian asked.

"Even if I agreed, how are we going to get out of here?"

"Leave that to me, all I need is your consent. Will you help me save Summer?"

I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. This couldn't be real, this wasn't real, and yet, I found myself nodding. "I'll try."

Octavian grinned then quickly took out what looked like a sticker. He stuck it on the ground then took my other hand and pulled me close. He was still shirtless.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, so I did. An overwhelming warmth circled me and a bright light flashed behind my eyes. My door was kicked down but I heard Octavian say, "too late," before the warmth suddenly disappeared, replaced by wind and rain against my skin.

I was outside. But how?

That didn't matter. What truly mattered was what I had just agreed to do. I was going to save Summer with a guy that claimed to be a Prince and somehow managed to teleport us outside.

Was this real? Would I even be able to save Summer, or was the world doomed from the beginning?