Chapter 2

Then Meredith was in my ninth grade homeroom. I got one look at her soft spiral curls and fell, hard. Before the teacher could take roll and lock us into a seating arrangement we’d have to stick to all year, I switched to the desk on Meredith’s right. As I slipped into the chair, she gave me a hesitant smile and I took that as all the encouragement I needed to strike up a conversation.

“Hey. I like your hair.”

One hand strayed self-consciously to run through her long curls. “Thanks. I’m—”

“Meredith, yeah.” I smiled back. “You were in my fifth grade class.”

She laughed. “You remember?”

“You’re the only Meredith I’ve ever met,” I told her. “It isn’t exactly a common name.”

“No, I guess not.” Her smile grew shy. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”

“Lara.” I leaned over and opened her notebook to scribble my phone number on the inside cover. I already knew I liked her. “What’s your schedule look like?”