Page 1 of Don't Think

Chapter One

Allie

I’ll never understand why anyonechoosesto live in the city.

The streets are a mess with carseverywhere,and for some reason, people still weave between them like that’s even remotely a good idea. You’re practically guaranteed to be late for work because finding a parking spot? Yeah, that’s laughable. And don’t even get me started on picking a place to eat. There aresomany options that choosing between Chinese and pizza would feel like a life-or-death decision to someone like me.

Okay, fine. That last one doesn’t soundthatbad.

Growing up in northern New Hampshire, we have a population of maybe ten thousand people. So yeah, I’m probably a little biased when I say there’s nothing better than small-town life. I mean, how could you not love a place where everyone knows your business as if they lived it themselves? And let’s not forget those special moments when you’re out of milk, andsomehow your ex just happens to be at the same store every single time.

On second thought… maybe city living isn’t so bad.

But being a single mom with two small children, I can’t just pack up and move hours away. So, for now, I’ll take what I can get. Like a kid-free month with my two best friends and the chance topretendI’m a city girl for once.

Even if that also means pretending my anxiety isn’t tearing me apart from the inside, actively trying to claw its way up my esophagus while we sit in Boston traffic.

It’s only thirty more minutes. Then we’ll be relaxing in the quiet neighborhood my Aunt Louise promised when she offered to let us rent her vacation home. I can do this.

“Is it too late to turn around?” I half joke, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white.

A car zips past my window with a loud whoosh, and my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Ana’s head snaps toward me so fast I swear she’s going to give herself whiplash. She lowers her sunglasses down her nose, her big, brown eyes narrowing like laser beams aimed straight at my skull.

“Don’t even joke like that,” she says, clutching her chest.

From the back seat, Nora leans forward, elbows resting on the center console while she reads the GPS.

“We’re onlyfifteenminutes away,” Nora says. “So yeah, it’s officially too late to turn around.” She grins and flops back dramatically.

I shoot her my signature mom look in the rearview mirror—both eyebrows raised, head tilted. It doesn’t do anything, though, since she just sticks her tongue out in response before tossing her short, straight, brown hair into a claw clip.

Brat.

“Oh! Turn this up!” she yells suddenly, loud enough to make me jump.

Before I can object, Ana’s already on it, cranking the volume way higher than I’d normally allow. But since it’s Bottom Line—arguably the best band to ever bless our ears—I let it slide.

The opening chords of their song “Hit Me” fill the car, and just like that, my nerves start to melt away. For the first time since pulling out of my driveway four hours ago, I can finally breathe. My grip on the wheel loosens, and the color slowly returns to my hands from the death grip I’ve somehow been maintaining the entire drive.

“Are you excited to see them live?” Ana asks just as I turn onto the street that leads to our home away from home.

Before I can answer, Nora launches forward again, her head jutting between our seats. “And meet them! Don’t forget the best part,” she adds, slowly turning to look at me with a grin.

She props her chin in her hands, eyes locked on me like she’s waiting for my face to change color. “Allie, you’re gonna see those biceps.In person,” she teases, nudging my arm a few times.

And then it does. My face changesmultipleshades of red at the reminder that tomorrow, I’ll be within arm’s reach of Jaxon freaking Owens. Just a few feet away from those ocean-blue eyes, sharp jawline, and, as Nora said, tattooed biceps that could crush me in an instant.

Yes. Please.

Their band might not be super popular, but I’ve been hooked since the first time I heard their song on a social media page three years ago.

One song. That’s all it took.

Well, one song and the fact that they’re from Wales, which automatically gives them a dangerously sexy accent.

Instead of egging Nora on, I focus on the mailboxes along the sidewalk, watching the numbers climb until 1142 finally comes into view.