Chapter 1: Cotton-Candy Skirts and Red-Hot Hair
There’s something about white skirts and soft pinks—they make me feel like I’m floating through a cotton-candy cloud, even when Chicago’s wind tries to tug my hem away. Everyone always says I’m sweet and easygoing, the kind of girl who’d apologize if you bumped into her, not the other way around.
Sometimes I catch myself smoothing the hem of my skirt, feeling that little buzz of reassurance—like it’s my own secret armor. Maybe the world sees me as sugary and soft, but there’s more going on underneath than anyone guesses.
His hair was fire-engine red, the kind you’d spot in a crowd or in a lineup of Chicago Cubs fans. He didn’t care if people stared—if anything, he liked it. That’s Ryan for you: always standing out, never blending in.
He’s my brother’s close friend. Every time we run into each other, my palms go clammy as I duck behind my brother’s shoulder, only daring to wave from behind him, cheeks burning like I’d just run a mile. I’m like a little kid at a family reunion, not sure whether to join in or run away.
Distant and reserved. That’s how I’d sum up his vibe—a wall you couldn’t climb, with warning signs posted all over.
No one knows I have a crush on him. It’s the kind of secret that blooms quietly, tucked beneath all my sweet-girl layers. Not even my best friend back home has a clue.