The Beginning

Olivia at 17 years old

Dedication:

For my kids. Because you're pretty awesome.

And one day I'll write your own love stories.

Stepping out of my car, I groan from the scorching heat that doesn't want to release its hold on summer. As much as I love the freedom the season brings, the long lazy days and pool parties, I'm a girl of fall all the way. The crisp, cool air and cozy nights around the bon fire. Warm soup and pumpkin bread. Friday nights spent watching my friends play football. I especially love how the trees transform into an array of bold, beautiful colors. Sweat immediately starts beading on the back of my neck so I reach back into my car and grab a hair tie out of the center console. I throw my wavy blonde hair up in a messy bun, slide my phone into the back pocket of my cut off shorts, and drape my flowery canvas tote bag on my shoulder.

My thin rubber flip flops do nothing to ward off the flaming temperature on the black asphalt of the parking lot. The bottoms of my feet burn and I curse myself for wearing the cheap sandals. I pick up my pace, wanting to get inside as quickly as possible and hope my brother has the air conditioner turned on in his apartment.

My flip flops slap against the pavement as I jog toward the front door and grip the metal handle. The instant I open the door, sweet relief smacks me in the face. A blast of glorious, cool air hits me and my skin prickles despite the heat I was feeling just a second ago.

"Hold the door, would ya?" someone calls out behind me.

I look over my shoulder at the sound of a deep voice and feel my eyes widen. My mouth drops open and I watch in disbelief as one of the hottest guys I've ever seen in my life strides toward me carrying three cases of beer stacked one on top of the other. That can't be light. The thought causes my eyes to immediately look at his arms and...

"Holy shit," I whisper and pray he can't hear or read my lips. This guy, though. Dark, tan skin and short, black hair buzzed short, bright white teeth that are gleaming at me thanks to the huge smile he's throwing my way, looking me up and down, lingering on my chest for a smidgen longer than what's appropriate. I take back my earlier annoyance and send up a quick thank you for it being so blasted hot that I only threw on a lavender tank top, which makes my boobs look freakin' incredible. If I do say so myself, of course.

Doing as asked, I keep the glass door open while Hotstuff makes his way toward me. His bright blue shirt is sleeveless and shows off bulging biceps and strong forearms. I bite my lip as my eyes drop to his legs. There is nothing better than a guy in basketball shorts or sweatpants.

Knowing I was just staring at his crotch, I flush red and quickly look up. My eyes connect with his and my breath catches. Thick lashes any woman would be envious of frame dark onyx, they're wide and unblinking. What appear to be strong legs eat up the space between us. Everywhere I look, I see muscle. Not like he's a body builder or anything, but he just looks, well, fierce, despite the sparkle in his eyes and boyish smile.

"Sure," I squeak out.

Soon he's right next to me, crossing the threshold into the building. I desperately want to take a small step forward so our bodies brush against each other but I don't dare. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and grins. My breath catches, chest rises and his eyes drop for a split second to the movement. His pink tongue snakes out, licking his full bottom lip. My senses are on high alert, my eyes noticing every. Single. Thing. My body reacting in ways it never has before. Time has slowed. If I look around, I'm sure I'll find birds chirping and woodland animals singing a song right now like I'm in the middle of a Disney princess movie.

I plaster myself against the glass door so it's opened as wide as possible, giving Hotstuff enough room for his broad-shouldered body and heavy cases to make their way through.

"Thank you," comes his low rumble and the only thing I can do is murmur a, "you betcha." My voice comes out hyper and high-pitched like a total weirdo and I inwardly groan.

As soon as he's cleared the doorway, which seems to have taken him one thousand minutes instead of just a few seconds, I follow behind him. It's a pretty awesome view.

Now I'm licking my lips and I feel like a complete creeper but I can't help it. I'm a horny teenager and...

Hello, tight backside.

I hear a chuckle and I gasp. "Oh crap. I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"You betcha," he teases, throwing my words back at me. "Don't worry, though." He looks me up and down, his gaze causing my stomach to clench when I see the desire in his eyes. "You'd blush brighter than the sun if you knew the things going through my head right now."

He's probably right, since just him hinting at having thoughts of me has me blushing.

He starts up the stairs and I follow. My brother's apartment is on the third floor of the building and the complex doesn't have an elevator. At least not one that I feel comfortable getting into. Owen moved into this apartment last year and I've only been brave enough to ride the elevator once. It's old and rickety and there's a reason why I would rather climb stairs and it doesn't have a single thing to do with exercise.

"Following me?" Hotstuff asks, humor in his tone.

"No," I sass back. I almost tell him I'm going to my brother's but stranger danger and all that.

"Live in this building?"

How old does he think I am? "Nope."

"Visiting someone, then," he says, eyeing my small bag.

"Figured that one out all on your own, huh?"

His head tilts back as his laughter rings out in the stairwell. It makes me feel all tingly and wow, I want to hear it again.

"You're a little smart ass."

I hum in response, trying not to breathe heavy. He's carrying three cases of beer while climbing several flights of stairs as if he's just sitting around playing video games. Meanwhile, I'm over here trying to stop myself from having a heart attack. "Well, you were being nosy."

"You say nosy, I say curious."

"Same thing."

"Wrong," he says, stopping at the landing on the second floor. He turns around to face me, my right foot on the stair above my left foot. He stares down at me, bends over, sets the cases of beer on the floor, leans over, one hand on the stair rail. His eyes flitter across my face. "Curiosity stems from wanting to know more about you. If I was nosy, I'd be prying into your business for no reason other than being intrusive."

I shake my head side to side. "You don't make any sense."

"I make perfect sense. I'm curious about you because well, first of all, you're gorgeous. In my building, and I've never seen you before which is something I would have definitely remembered. You're intriguing to me and I've only heard a few words out of your mouth. And, I'd like to change the fact that I don't know you or even your name."

For the first time in my life I'm speechless. He just called me gorgeous. No one has ever called me gorgeous or intriguing before. I can't explain it, but for the first time in maybe ever, I feel like I'm Olivia. Not someone's sister or daughter or the friend. Not the editor for the school newspaper or the girl who so graciously warms the bench during basketball games.

I feel my butt vibrate and it takes me a second to realize my phone is ringing. Not taking my eyes off Hotstuff, I answer my phone.

"You about here?" my brother barks in lieu of saying hello.

"Yes."

"What the fuck is taking you so long?"

I can't really say I got distracted by the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life telling me I'm gorgeous now, can I? "I'm almost there. Keep your damn pants on."

"Well, pardon me for being excited to see my little sister. I haven't seen you all summer, Olivia."

I can't help the sigh that escapes my throat. I'm here because I need an escape from the hell at home. Mom and Dad have been yelling at each other like crazy and I'm the lucky one in the center of it all. Before school starts in a week, Owen and I decided to have a brother sister night, just the two of us. We're ordering pizza and vegging out with some of our favorite movies. I thought a night of hanging out with his little sister would be the last thing he'd ever want to do but he's the one who suggested it and I was quick to accept. "I know that and I'm excited to see you, too."

"Then get here already."

"Geesh. Fine!"

I hang up the phone and look up to see Hotstuff staring at me. He shakes his head, huffs, and mutters something under his breath.

He bends down and picks up the cases as if he's picking up a box of feathers. "Sounds like you've got someone waiting for you."

"Yeah."

"Figures," he mumbles.

"What?"

He starts up the third flight of stairs mumbling something about his horrible luck and I'm once again blessed with a view of his ass. I want to yell at him to stop. That I'm heading to go see my brother, not a boyfriend. But my excuse is caught in my throat when I see him stop at the door across from the one I'm heading to. He puts down cases and unlocks his door just as my brother's swings open, Owen's smiling face greeting Hotstuff.

"Oh, hey, Ethan. Getting ready for next weekend already?"

Hotstuff grunts and I'm suspended on the stairs when Owen's eyes wander, landing on me.

He grins and motions me to come inside. "You really were almost here. I was just going to go down and wait for you. Now I kind of feel like a jerk. Get your ass in here."

The sexy stranger who I only had a brief encounter with spins around. His eyes arrest me and I know he's not thinking that I'm here as Owen's sister, but rather his girlfriend. Dark chocolate flits back and forth between Owen and me as I make my way to my brother's apartment.

He leans down, lifts me off the ground in a big bear hug. "I missed your scrawny ass, Olivia."

"Missed you, too, big brother."

"Wait. Olivia? You're Olivia?"

Owen looks over my shoulder at Hotstuff, throws an arm over my shoulder and pats my head condescendingly with his other. "Yup. This is my little sis, Olivia. Olivia, this dipshit here is my neighbor Ethan. Ethan, keep your hands to your fucking self. She's seventeen."

I swallow hard, look Ethan in the eye and give him a little wave. I think I liked the name Hotstuff for him better. "Hey." I want to cry. In the whopping five minutes that I was in Ethan's presence, I felt something. And I never feel anything. I'm notoriously picky when it comes to guys and tend to keep people at arm's length. I've only had one relationship in my life and that was in the eighth grade. Which, of course, wasn't really anything more than holding hands and stealing a peck on the lips at the middle school dance.

"Hey." A single nod, clenched jaw, and determined look tells me everything I need to know. I've just been sister-zoned. Dammit.