Some say love is deadly. Some say love is beautiful. I say it is both.
Faith Watters spent her junior year traveling the world, studying in exquisite places, before returning to Oviedo High School. From the outside her life is picture-perfect. Captain of the dance team. Popular. Happy. Too bad it’s all a lie.
It will haunt me. It will claim me. It will shatter me. And I don't care.
Eighteen-year-old Diego Alvarez hates his new life in the States, but staying in Cuba is not an option. Covered in tattoos and scars, Diego doesn’t stand a chance of fitting in. Nor does he want to. His only concern is staying hidden from his past—a past, which if it were to surface, would cost him everything. Including his life.
At Oviedo High School, it seems that Faith Watters and Diego Alvarez do not belong together. But fate is as tricky as it is lovely. Freedom with no restraint is what they long for. What they get is something different entirely.
Love—it will ruin you and save you, both.
Before You!
By: Amber Hart
Series: Before & After
Genre: young adult contemporary romance
Publisher: Kensington
Release Date: July 29, 2014
What other authors had to say:
"Beautiful and evocative!" ~New York Times Bestselling author Sophie Jordan
"Fresh and unique...will hook and hold you." ~Bestselling author K.A. Tucker
Amber Hart grew up in Orlando, Florida and Atlanta, Georgia. She now resides on the Florida coastline with family and animals including, but not limited to, bulldogs, a cat, and dragons. When unable to find a book, she can be found writing, daydreaming, or with her toes in the sand. She's the author of BEFORE YOU, AFTER US, ECHOES, and ECHOES' sequel (untitled as of yet). Rep'd by Beth Miller of Writers House.
Website: www.amberhartbooks.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorAmberHart
Twitter: www.twitter.com/AmberHartBooks
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/AmbersShelf
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/AmberHart
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/AmberHart
"Fresh and unique...will hook and hold you." ~Bestselling author K.A. Tucker
Chapter 1
1
Faith
My closet is a place of secrets.
This is where I
change into Her, the girl everybody knows as me. Searching through hanger after
hanger of neatly pressed clothes, I find the outfit I’m looking for. A black
knee-length pleated skirt, a loose-fitting white top, and two-inch wedge shoes.
Looking good at school is a must. Not that I do it for me. It’s more for my
dad’s reputation. I have to play the part.
I am stuffed into
a borrowed frame. One that fits too tightly. One that couldn’t possibly capture
the real me.
“Faith,”
my stepmom calls. “Are you joining us for breakfast?”
There
is no time. “No,” I reply, my voice carrying downstairs.
I
quickly dress for school, catching my reflection in the closet door mirror.
Waking sun shines off my hair, highlighting a few strands brighter than the
rest. Everybody has a favorite body part. Mine is my hair, which is the
fiery-brown of autumn leaves. My best friend, Melissa, swears my eyes are my
best asset. Ivy-green, deep-set,
haunting. Like they go on forever.
Speaking
of Melissa, her horn blares outside. Beep,
beep, pause, beep. That’s our
code. I race downstairs, passing my dad, stepmom, and little sister on the way
out.
“Wait,” Dad says.
I sigh. “Yes,
Dad?”
He glances at my
outfit, pausing at my shoes. If it were up to Dad, I would wear turtleneck
shirts and dress pants with lace-up boots forever. The perfect ensemble, it
seems. As it is, I dress conservatively to protect his image. I’m eighteen.
You’d think he’d stop cringing every time he saw me in anything that showed the
least bit of skin.
“Hug,” he says,
waving me over.
I hug him. Place a
kiss on my five-year-old sister’s jelly-covered cheek. Then, grab a napkin to
wipe the sticky jelly from my lips.
“Bye, Gracie,” I
say to her. “See you after school.”
She waves a small
hand at me and smiles.
“Take
this.” Susan, my stepmom, hands me a bagel even though I already declined
breakfast. It’s poppy seed. I’m allergic to poppy seed.
As
usual, I don’t put up a fight. My frame feels especially uncomfortable at the
moment. It’s always the same thing. I learned early on that it’s easier to go
with the flow than to be different. Different is bad. Standing out attracts
attention, something I try to avoid at all costs. Unfortunately, being the
dance captain makes that more difficult.
“Have
to go,” I say, shoving the bagel in my bag.
The screen door
swings shut behind me.
Melissa
waits in my driveway. We live in a modest, yellow-paneled house in Oviedo,
Florida. The majority of the people here are middle class. We fit in well.
“What’s
up?” Melissa smiles. “Took you long enough.”
“Yeah,
well, you try waking up late and still looking as good as I do,” I joke.
Melissa
whips her blond hair into a ponytail and puts her red Camaro in reverse,
careful not to hit my Jeep on the way out. I have my own car, but since Melissa
lives three doors down, we have a deal where we alternate driving to school.
She takes the first month; I take the second, and so on. Saves gas.
“You
look smokin’,” Melissa says, lighting a cigarette.
I
roll my eyes.
“Liar.”
She’s always hated
the way I dress.
Melissa
laughs. “Okay, true, the clothes need to go. But your hair and makeup are
flawless. And no matter what you wear, you still look beautiful.”
“Thanks,
you too,” I say, eyeing her tight jeans and sequined top. Melissa is effortlessly
beautiful with her sun-freckled face and athletic build.
“Prediction,”
Melissa begins. This is something we have done since ninth grade: predict three
things that will happen during the year. “Tracy Ram will try to overthrow you
as dance captain, once again, but you’ll keep your spot, of course, ’cause you
rock. You’ll quit dressing like an eighty-year-old and finally wear what you
want to wear instead of what society dictates is appropriate for a pastor’s
daughter. And you’ll come to your senses and dump Jason Magg for a hot new
boy.”
Melissa
always predicts that I’ll dump Jason, has done since Jason and I began dating
freshman year. It’s not that she doesn’t like him. It’s just that she thinks my
life is too bland, like the taste of celery. What’s the point, she figures.
“First of all, I
do not dress like the elderly,” I say. “And second, I don’t know what you have
against Jason. He treats me nicely. It’s not like he’s a jerk.”
“It’s
not like he’s exciting, either,” Melissa says.
She’s right. What
I have with Jason is comfortable, nice even, but excitement left a long time
ago.
“Prediction,” I
say, turning to Melissa. “You will not be able to quit bugging me about dumping
Jason, even though last year you swore you would. Despite your doubts, you will pass senior calculus. And you’re
going to win homecoming.”
Melissa shakes her
head. “No way. Homecoming is all you, girl.”
I groan. “But I
don’t want to win.”
Melissa laughs.
“Tracy Ram would have a heart attack if she ever heard you say that.”
“Great,” I say.
“Let her win homecoming.”
We grin. Melissa
and I have been friends since kindergarten. Memories come to me suddenly. I’m
in elementary school, and it’s sleepover night at Melissa’s. In my overnight
bag, I carry a small stuffed bunny, my steadfast companion since forever.
People would laugh if they knew, me carrying around a stuffed baby toy, but
Melissa never tells. Fast forward to middle school. The braces on Melissa’s
teeth are still so new that the silver catches the light from the fluorescent
fixtures when she smiles. The headgear is huge, cumbersome, and no one lets her
forget it. But I relentlessly defend my friend. She’s so beautiful, can’t they
see? Sometimes I leave flowers stolen from a neighbor’s rose bush at her locker
when no one is looking. That way people will know that she is loved. High
school. Melissa and me, same as always.
“What do you want
to bet?” Melissa asks.
Whoever gets the
most predictions right wins.
“Hmm,” I say. “If
I win, you have to quit smoking.”
Melissa almost
chokes. “Pulling out the big guns, are we? Okay, then. If I win, you have to
break up with Jason.”
“Deal,” I say,
knowing that she won’t win. She never does.
Melissa purses her
lips and gives me the stink eye. She knows I have a better chance.
“Faith, I will
find a way to break you out of your mold,” she says.
I laugh, partially
because of the determination in my friend’s eyes, but mostly because of the
absurdity of her statement. Everybody knows that girls like me never break
free.
Author Bio:
Amber Hart grew up in Orlando, Florida and Atlanta, Georgia. She now resides on the Florida coastline with family and animals including, but not limited to, bulldogs, a cat, and dragons. When unable to find a book, she can be found writing, daydreaming, or with her toes in the sand. She's the author of BEFORE YOU, AFTER US, ECHOES, and ECHOES' sequel (untitled as of yet). Rep'd by Beth Miller of Writers House.
Links:
Website: www.amberhartbooks.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorAmberHart
Twitter: www.twitter.com/AmberHartBooks
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/AmbersShelf
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/AmberHart
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/AmberHart
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