You Light Me Up - First Chapter Early Look
Happy Valentine’s Day!
There’s no better day to send my first newsletter celebrating Rylie and Adam’s story than a day all about love. Whether you’re celebrating with a significant other, with friends, or on your own (because self-love is equally important, just ask Rylie) I hope this first look will get you in your feels for whatever you have planned.
My fiancé and I went out to a nice dinner last night, we like to avoid the Valentine’s Day crowds, and are having a relaxed evening at home tonight. For me, this day is more about spending quality time together than the flowers/candy/gifts (although those can be nice too, again, ask Rylie and the Red Velvet Bundt Cake currently in my fridge).
Before we get to what you’re all here for … I first want to say a huge THANK YOU for all the love on my cover reveal. I have been waiting to share it since I got the first sketch months ago. It truly is the vision I had in my head put on paper and I can’t recommend working with MiblArt enough if you’re an indie author looking for a cover designer!
Okay, okay. Enough waiting. I will talk more about my process and what’s going on with my writing projects in future newsletters. For today, just enjoy the first look!
*Please note the book has not gone through its final round of editing. While I don’t foresee major changes to Chapter 1, it might get some tweaks for the final release.
Chapter 1
Clothes cover every surface of my room.
The bed, desk, dresser, and floor are buried in everything that was in my closet and drawers only an hour ago. A pink bikini top is draped over the TV, partially blocking the Friends rerun I have on for background noise but haven’t looked up at once. I hold a pair of cut-off shorts in each hand, one slightly darker than the other, weighing which to add to the still-empty Vera Bradley duffel bag that I’d picked up at a thrift store earlier this summer. The same store where I found the white wicker dresser that now holds up the small TV.
I slump to the ground with a groan of frustration, throwing both pairs of shorts into the flood of garments surrounding me. Why is it this hard to even pack? Maybe I’m not ready for this after all.
My head whips to the door when a chuckle sounds from the other side before it cracks open, only wide enough for Caleb to pop his head through. His eyes widen as he takes in the state of the room, and the pile of clothes blocking the door from opening any further.
“You do know you’re only going to be gone for a weekend, right?” he teases, but his face softens when I look up at him, face full of anxiety.
After struggling to force back the swell of shirts and jeans, and almost tripping—which pulls a half-laugh-half-snort from deep in my chest—Caleb makes it over and drops down beside me. He sits there quietly, waiting for me to speak if I want to. This is how it’s always been with Caleb, never pushing me to talk about it, but always listening if I want to.
I sigh, looking down at my feet and letting my shoulders slump further over my legs that are cradled into my chest. “I don’t think I can do this,” I say into my knees.
“You were so excited for this last week, and you know all my mom has talked about is how excited she is to see you,” he reminds me, as if I could forget Claire’s squeal of delight when I told her I’d be joining the boys for the famous Dey family Fourth of July party.
“Well, last week I still thought I’d have my best-friend there with me.” I glare at him, reminding him that he bailed on this weekend first. As newly appointed assistant manager, Caleb felt obligated to cover for George this weekend at George’s Deli. George had claimed it was a family emergency, but considering he had some emergency mysteriously pop up most holidays over the last year, I doubted it was the truth. But Caleb’s too kind to say no.
If it wasn’t his best trait as a friend, I’d be more upset, but it’s not in his nature to turn away from someone in need of help. He’s compassionate to his core, which is why I know he’s in agony that his decision is having a negative impact on me.
“Adam will still be there, he’s your friend too.” Just from his tone and the way he emphasizes the word friend, I know there’s a suggestive look in his eyes. The same look that shows up every time he mentions his older brother and me in the same sentence. Luckily, he never asks more about our flirty friendship and I’m glad I’m looking down, so he doesn’t see how my breath catches just at the sound of his name.
Wanting to change the subject before he can pick up on just how strong my feelings are, I take a deep breath to steady my heart and look up at him with pouty lips. “But all my Fourth of July traditions are with you.”
“Isn’t it weird to think that, since fourth grade, we’ve only ever watched the fireworks together?” he asks, and it launches us into a flurry of memories from previous years’ parties. One of my favorites is the year we snuck onto the roof of his parent’s house to get the best view of the fireworks, only to be scolded by our moms later when we needed help getting down. His dad pretended to be mad with them, but he’s as big a fan of fireworks as us, so he shot us a thumbs-up and a wink when no one was looking.
By the time he leaves to let me finish, or start packing, I’m feeling much better. Caleb has always had a knack for putting a smile on my face, even when it’s the last thing I want to do.
After throwing enough clothes to last me a week into my duffle bag, and dropping it next to the dining table on my way to the living room, I launch myself onto the couch next to Caleb. We both realize what’s happening too late, and even though he tries to move out of the way, I barrel into him. His elbow connects with my ribs and leaves me gasping for air, and my knee drives into his thigh, sending him doubling over off the couch. The potted plants on the coffee table, that Caleb insists on keeping around—and alive since my green thumb is nonexistent—wobble in loud, echoing noises on the glass when he knocks into the leg.
I wheeze, curling into a ball and clutching my side on the cloudlike couch. It’s the only piece of furniture we allowed Claire to buy, as a compromise. She originally insisted on furnishing the entire place since my mom’s outstanding medical bills meant very little was left to me. But after losing her, I needed something that felt like mine, and while I love Claire’s sophisticated style, thrift store furniture is more up my alley, and in my budget. Caleb let his mom furnish his room but backed me up on the communal areas of the apartment. I made an exception on the couch because the thought of what could’ve caused the stains on the used ones we saw terrified me.
“I think you grossly miscalculated that jump,” Caleb groans from the ground. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”
I huff out a laugh and then whimper when the movement brings on a new wave of pain. “I’m a math major, not a physics major, cut me some slack. Velocity and acceleration aren’t my forte.”
He’s laughing as he sits up and pulls himself back onto the couch beside me. “Fair point.”
We both get quiet, pretending to be focused on the TV, but I’ve known him long enough to understand he’s trying to figure out if it’s worth bringing up the real reason I’m hesitant to go back to our hometown—to his parents’ house in particular.
I don’t want to talk about it though. Right now, being distracted is all that’s keeping me together, so I sigh and say, “The fireworks really won’t be the same without you.”
The front door creaks open and Caleb smirks, raising his voice so the new person entering the apartment can hear. “Just get Adam to watch them with you, it’ll almost be like having me there.”
My eyes cling to him the moment he steps around the corner and the remaining pain in my ribs turns into flutters that cascade through my abdomen. Even though his light brown hair was recently cut, it’s still a mess—in the way that hair can be a sexy mess when someone just rolls out of bed—but his brown eyes are bright with curiosity.
“First off, we might be related but we’re nothing alike, so I doubt that.” Adam smiles in jest as he drops onto the couch beside me. My heart races, until he slings an arm over my shoulders like he would to a buddy or a sister, and I fight to keep a smile on my face. “And secondly, what are we talking about?”
“In case you didn’t hear, Caleb’s ditching us this weekend,” I blurt out before Caleb can say anything else about fireworks.
Adam Dey has one flaw and it’s that he doesn’t like fireworks.
Okay, fine, he has more than one flaw but who doesn’t like to watch fireworks? It’s criminal, really.
“I’m not ditching you,” Caleb refutes. “I have a work obligation.”
I roll my eyes playfully and use the opportunity to lean in closer to Adam to whisper, “Definitely ditching.”
“Rylie!” Caleb tries trying to act frustrated, but his laugh is slipping through.
Adam glances between us, brows raised, until his gaze finally locks on me, and he leans in even closer, conspiratorially. “Definitely ditching,” he agrees, and the two of us fall into laughter. Caleb’s glare only lasts another second before he joins us.
“So, what’s the real reason you can’t come?” Adam asks.
“George had a family emergency,” Caleb says, shrugging like it’s no big deal but one of Adam’s eyebrows quirks up in question.
“Again?” Adam says, and I laugh because it’s exactly what I said when he first told me a few days ago.
“And Caleb is too nice to say no,” I chime in.
Adam and I look at each other with pointed expressions and say in unison, “Again.”
We start laughing again when Caleb glares harder at us.
“I never thought a little, bald Italian dude would have you whipped,” Adam says, removing his arm from around me to mess with Caleb’s hair. As the two of them fall into one of their brotherly quarrels, I can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. Our age and location may change, but these moments with the three of us, laughing like this, never do and that’s a comfort I need right now.
“We should get going, I told mom we’d be there for dinner.” Adam stands, clapping his brother on the back one last time before looking at me. “Where’s your stuff? I’ll bring it to the car.”
I point behind us at the table.
“And you’re not whipped?” Caleb calls as Adam carries my bag out.
“No, I’m just being a gentleman for a lovely friend of mine,” he says with a wink at me, and my heart skips a beat. I ignore the f-word and focus on the preceding adjective, the word repeating in my head like a catchy song. He called me lovely.
“Kiss ass,” Caleb grumbles when he sees the smile on my face.
Adam’s laugh rings through the apartment as he walks out the door and the sound sends a chill through me. Caleb has always been around as a sort of buffer between us. Anytime my thoughts got out of control I’d be able to look at Caleb and ground myself—remind myself that Adam’s my best friend’s older brother, nothing is going to happen between us. He doesn’t even see me that way.
But I’m starting to wonder what a weekend alone with him is going to do to me.
I guess I’m about to find out.
“Ry?” Caleb’s voice pulls me away from my thoughts and I find his concerned gaze locked on me. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.” I pull him into a hug. “Thanks, Cale.”
Adam pops his head in the door. “Ready?”
“Yup.” I smile. “Let’s go.”
“Have fun, Ry,” Caleb whispers before releasing me. “You deserve it.”
I smile at him one last time before running out to the car and hopping in. Let the two-hour drive from Kasper Mountain College back to Lockney begin.
***
The first hour passes with us singing along to songs off a shared playlist the three of us keep updated just for this drive. It’s been easy to smile and laugh with Adam—it always is—but with just the two of us here, the love songs feel more intimate than playful—especially since I’ve caught him looking over at me too many times to count.
I raise my eyebrows and turn down the volume when I catch him glimpse over at me again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, but I shoot him a glare until he glances over again. “Fine, it’s just—” He pauses mid-sentence and sighs. “You know, you’re not a bad singer.”
I roll my eyes. “Why do we have this conversation every time we’re in a car together?”
“Because I forget.”
His response comes so quickly that I can’t stop my cringe. Just what everyone wants to hear the person they’re into say, I forget about you.
He must glance over again and read the hurt on my face because he quickly amends, “I don’t mean that I forget you’re a good singer, it’s just that it’s always better than I remember.”
“Nice save,” I mumble.
“I’m being serious.” His voice is pleading for me to listen. “That’s what I meant the first time, it just came out wrong.”
I wish I knew which was the truth, but I’m scared to find out, so I drop it and quip back, “At least one of us is musically talented in this car.” I’m already smiling again.
His shoulders sag in relief and he chuckles. “You really want to taunt the person who has your life in their hands at the moment?”
I smirk at the empty threat. “I’ll take my chances that you enjoy my company too much to do anything.”
“Quite the gambler, I see,” he grumbles in defeat. I’ve called his bluff.
I’m looking out the window, savoring my victory with a smug smile when I squeal because Adam’s right hand has moved to my midriff and is tickling me. I can’t move out of his reach, so I squirm and laugh until I’m gasping for air and begging for a reprieve.
His fingers slow their assault and I’m finally able to catch my breath. It’s only then that I notice my top has ridden up in my struggle and his fingers are on my bare stomach. I can’t breathe as he drags his fingers across my skin at a snail’s pace, not breaking contact until he’s traced a line across my waist. I iron-grip the sides of my seat and hope he can’t feel my body trembling at the touch.
When his hand finally pulls away, I let out a stuttering breath. He left a blazing trail across me that’s seeping warmth throughout my entire body. It takes far too long for my mind to clear, but when it does, I sit up straight with a jolt and fix my shirt, cheeks heating in embarrassment. I can’t think straight with his hands on me like that.
Adam’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel leaves me wondering if that affected him more than he let on, but he doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look my way. I turn the music back up, but neither of us sing-along.
The remaining hour is at once much too long and much too short.
I don’t know why it’s always there, refusing to extinguish, but a spark of hope flares in me.
Maybe this weekend will finally be different for us.
I hope you enjoyed the sneak peak! I’m so excited for this book to be in the hands of readers!
Let me know what you thought and then add on Goodreads/StoryGraph or Pre-Order (The Kindle pre-order price has dropped to $2.99 for Valentine’s Day and will remain that way through the weekend)!
