Page 57 of Holding Hope

I couldn’t tell if what she was doing was intentional or if she was just as confused as I was. I’d seen the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. She had to feel something too.

I pushed through the crowd, not sure where I was going, bobbing my head to the music. I’d been in Texas almost a month, and country music was starting to grow on me. Against my will.

I’d listened to Clarke’s newest album—the one she released last year. I’d added a few favorites to a secret playlist. Some songs were exactly what I expected: love for her siblings, love for Opal Springs. But others…

Others felt deeper.

Like she was trapped here. Bound by loyalty. By duty. By being the oldest daughter.

Like she wanted to fly but couldn’t.

From what I’d seen of the King family, her parents didn’t expect her to stay forever. They’d be proud of her anywhere. But I’d never been in her position. I didn’t understand what it meant to be responsible for someone else.

What I did know was that I would kill for a family like hers.

Rorie’s was cute—not Pit 5°, but cute. Packed to the brim with people my age. I hadn’t realized Opal Springs had this many twenty-somethings until they were all sweating in the same room.

I’d scoped out a few girls who seemed interesting, but the closer I got, the less I wanted to do it.

What if Clarke was right and this was a bad idea?

I mean, the idea came from Jonas—and that man was a walking bad idea.

But if Clarke didn’t want to kiss me, then I needed to find someone who did.

One girl had been eyeing me from across the bar—near the karaoke machine where her friends were butchering Blown Away. She smiled as I approached, pleased I’d picked up on her energy.

“Hi!” I shouted over the music. “I’m Avalon.”

“Schuyler!” she replied, shaking my hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be Avalon Kennedy, would you?”

I blushed. “I didn’t think anyone in Opal Springs would know who I was.”

She laughed, still holding my hand. “I’m not from here. Just passing through before college starts. I’m from Orange County.”

“The O.C.,” I said with relief. “Finally, someone from civilization.”

We laughed together. Her hand was warm, smooth, manicured—definitely not local.

“I was at your concert in Rockwell,” Schuyler said, running her thumb across my hand. “Loved when you brought Hadassah Osprey out. Are you two broken up for good?”

Considering I had a restraining order against Hadassah, I nodded. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. I’d rather not talk about my ex.”

Her face lit up. She nodded eagerly.

Lacing our fingers, I led her through the crowd. I wanted to get this over with—fast. If this would get Clarke out of my head, then I needed to do it.

I found a storage closet door that wasn’t locked. As we walked, the music shifted to an upbeat country song, and the lights dimmed into red and blue strobe flashes.

“Oh my gosh, I love this song!” Schuyler squealed behind me as I struggled with the door. Why was everything in Opal Springs impossible to open?

Finally, it budged. I laughed in relief and turned to usher her inside—and froze.

Across the bar, Clarke stood beneath the strobe lights, her brother and Ethan beside her. They were too busy talking to notice her staring.

At me.

Her blonde hair was pulled back with a bow-shaped claw clip, loose strands framing her face. She wore a sleeveless jean dress with a white ruffled skirt and red-and-white boots.