CHAPTER 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that book boyfriends are better

than real ones.
Seriously, someone should put that on a t-shirt.
Maybe it could be me—if I ever made it out of this alive.
Now, I wouldn't call myself a dramatic person per se. If she were here,
my older sister, Charlotte, might disagree.
But she wasn't here.
In fact, there wasn't another soul in sight.
It was just me, walking on the side of a deserted road at night. By
myself. In an unfamiliar area. I'd watched one too many true crime shows
and could just hear the coverage now.
Scarlett Kent. 17. Female.
Last seen leaving a wedding party in Chariot, North Carolina, where
she'd been hired to play her violin for hours…only for the bride and groom
to stiff her at the end of the night, claiming they'd "pay her later when it
was more convenient." Her car was found broken down and abandoned
about 30 minutes from the wedding venue. A piece of uneaten wedding cake
was inside. Scarlett and her beloved violin were nowhere to be seen.
I felt the reassuring weight of my violin case in one hand, my bow in the
other. My unreliable phone that never held a charge and always seemed to
die at the most inconvenient times (like now) was tucked into my bra. I
only had two hands. The decision to ditch the cake was difficult but
necessary. If I was kidnapped—or worse—I was taking my Yamaha with
me. This violin was my kindred spirit. We'd been through too much, seen
too much together for me to leave her behind.
Picturing an imaginary foe, I stabbed my bow at the air in front of me.
Plus, I could do major damage with this instrument if provoked. No one
better mess with me. I had a weapon.
Of sorts.
Remembering the stupid groom's words, I stabbed angrily at the air
again. They'd pay me later? Yeah right, I'd heard that one before. When
you were a musician, especially a young and aspiring musician, you took
the jobs you could get.
Even if they were over an hour away and located at a venue that could
only be reached using shady backroads.
Dusk had fallen when I left the safety of my car behind, hoping to find
cell service, but any light that remained was quickly swallowed by the
night. My phone died shortly after. Now, the only guide I had were the
stars.
Bright, beautiful, cold…
I shivered as the news coverage started up again in my mind.
When they finally located the body, it was discovered she'd been
listening to a romance audiobook, heavy on the swoon, hints of spice,
featuring one of her favorite book boyfriends. Her fictional love was with
her to the end. Obviously, she didn't have a boyfriend in real life. Who had
the time?
Not this girl, I thought.
Real people could let you down. Books were always there when you
needed them—just like music.
I kicked a rock out of my path and trudged ahead.
When asked for a description of Scarlett Kent, guests of the wedding
said, "She looked kind of like a blueberry. Round, fluffy, lots of tulle."
Did I mention I was wearing a poofy concoction of a dress that was part
pageant girl, part Disney princess reject, and heels that dug into the backs of
my feet?
I was slashing my bow at nothing, muttering about Bridezillas and their
demanding requests, totally in my head…
…when suddenly, I heard something.
The sound of an engine approached from behind. I saw the headlights
next as the car drew closer.
My back stiffened, half-hoping they would stop, half-hoping they
wouldn't.

Reasons You Should Never Get in a Car with a Stranger

1. It's dangerous.
2. Anything could happen.
3. You have no control over where you end up.
 4. They could steal your violin.
5. As the title says: the driver is a stranger, an unknown entity, a possible
person of interest.

Before I could go on, the car slowed to a crawl.

The tires rolled along beside me, but I refused to look. Maybe if I
ignored them, they'd do the same.
"Hey."
No such luck.
"Do you need a ride?"
Still not looking, I shook my head. "I'm fine."
There was a beat of silence.
Then…
"Are you sure? No offense, but those shoes look painful."
The voice was deep.
Male.
And vaguely familiar.
I couldn't place where I'd heard it before, but in my defense, adrenaline
was currently flooding my system. Mystery guy was right though. These
heels were torture. I couldn't wait to kick them off and burn them.
But I'd take sore feet over possibly getting abducted any day.
"No, thank you," I said, tone polite yet firm. "I don't accept rides from
strangers."
He laughed softly at that, and I pulled up short.
"Guess it's a good thing we're not strangers then," he said.
When I finally looked to my left, I saw a face I knew well.
"I'm Sam. Sam Bishop."
"I…I know," I stuttered.
His lips pulled up into his signature half-grin, and my heart gave an
unwelcome jolt in response. Piercing blue eyes stared at me. As I watched,
he arched an eyebrow, and logically my brain told me, there's no way that
should be so sexy. And yet, somehow it was.

Reasons You Should Never Get in a Car with Sam Bishop

1. Those eyes. Rumor had it he could break hearts with a look.
2. Those lips. No guy should have a mouth that distracting.
 3. That face. Sam had always been too pretty.
4. The voice. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
5. That eyebrow arch. Why, oh why was it so attractive?
6. He's popular.
7. He's a jock.
8. He sleeps through class.
9. He's my opposite in every way.
10. He was my first crush.
11. I got over it, but still...
12. We used to be friends (a long time ago).
13. We hadn't spoken in years.
14. He was taken—like really taken.

Sam tilted his head. "You go to Chariot High School, right?"

Internally, I winced. "Yeah, I do."
Item #15: Despite my incredibly inconvenient, totally unrequited, got-
over-it-years-ago crush, he doesn't even remember my name.
"Was that your car back there?" he asked.
"Hmmm," I said.
"We could go back together, try to get it started. I know a lot about
engines."
"Because your dad owns a garage," I said—then wanted to kick myself.
Nice going, Scarlett Way to sound like a know-it-all—and a total stalker.
He nodded slowly. "That's right. So…you want that ride now?"
Sam cocked his eyebrow again, but this time I was prepared. The blast
of attraction he seemed to emit without even trying hit an impenetrable wall
and bounced harmlessly into the air between us. Squaring my shoulders, I
sniffed.
"Like I said, I'm fine," I repeated.
"But—"
Before he could say more, I was already striding forward, leaving him
in the dust.
Or I would've done if he hadn't been in a car, and my feet weren't crying
with every step.
Stupid heels.
 "Hold up," Sam said, keeping pace beside me. I could hear the laughter
in his voice, and it grated on my already frayed nerves. "You're not
seriously going to walk all the way back to Chariot."
"Why not?" I said, swinging my bow at my side. "It's a beautiful night."
He scoffed. "That's miles away."
"Long walks are my favorite."
What was I even saying? I hated exercise with a passion. It was, in
fact, one of my least favorite activities in the world. But he didn't need to
know that.
"You can go now," I added.
"Seriously?" he said.
I nodded.
"But we already established there's no stranger danger. You even knew
my name."
"And you still don't know mine," I retorted. "Obviously us going to the
same school doesn't mean anything."
I shook my head.
"Besides everyone knows your name. You're the Sam Bishop."
"I have no idea what that means." He blew out a slow breath. "Listen,
we don't even have to talk on the way back. I'll just drive you home, and
you can pretend I don't exist."
"Tempting," I said, "but no."
"If you think I'm going to leave you alone in the dark on this creepy
stretch of road, you're crazy," Sam said. "That building back there looked
like it came straight out of a horror movie."
When I didn't respond, he sighed.
"Fine. Guess I'll just have to drive beside you then." I rolled my eyes,
but he probably couldn't see it in the dark. "I'll be in my nice Mustang with
the newly upholstered, heated seats," he went on as a sudden gust of wind
sent chills up my spine. "And you'll be walking in those shoes with your
little stick."
"It's a bow," I muttered.
"What?"
Spinning to face him, I stopped, and to my dismay, Sam did as well,
putting the car in park, looking as if he had all the time in the world.
"You're really going to follow me all the way back?" I said.
 "Yeah," he said.
"Why?"
Sam gave a shrug. "Got nothing better to do."
I frowned back at him. "Are you always so stubborn?"
"Are you?"
"School starts tomorrow," I pointed out. "It's senior year. Aren't you
worried about getting a good night's sleep?"
"Not really," Sam said with a grin. "I am the Sam Bishop."
I sighed.
"Come on, let me give you a lift."
The fact that I was even considering it, despite all my reservations,
showed just how awful these shoes were. Plus, honestly, with the wedding
debacle and my car breaking down, it had already been such a long night. I
looked over to find Sam staring back at me.
"Promise not to try anything," I said.
"I promise," he said.
"No accidental brushes of your hand against my thigh or chest. No
groping."
Sam looked like he was biting back a laugh. "Cross my heart. Your
virtue is completely safe with me."
"You'll take me straight home and not ask for any weird favors or
blackmail afterward," I said and then added, "and you won't try to steal my
violin."
"Scout's honor."
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you really a boy scout?"
"No, but my little brother is," he said then cocked his head. "So?"
I quickly took stock of my situation. Option 1: accept Sam Bishop's
offer, hop into his sleek ride with the silver racing stripes and let him take
me home. I still had my bow after all. Not as good as pepper spray, but if
need be, I wasn't above getting stabby. Option 2: face the long, dark road
ahead, push my already screaming feet to the limit, forgo any sleep I
might've gotten and possibly be late on the first day of senior year.
I'd never been late to school.
Not once in my life.
Never missed a day either.
And yet…
 I gazed longingly at the car in front of me, thinking of those heated
seats, then shifted my eyes to the darkness. Maybe I could—
Sam's voice interrupted.
"Just get in the car, Starlet," he said.
He popped the locks, and I did just that.
As I slid into the car, however, I mumbled, "My name's Scarlett. Not
Starlet."
Sam gave me that half-grin. "I know," he said.
Sure you do.
"Want to go back, check on your car?" he asked.
"No point," I said. "I was already told I have a bad alternator. Guess it
finally gave out."
"So wait…you knew you needed a new part and drove it anyway?"
I shrugged, ignoring the clear disapproval in his tone. "Couldn't afford a
new one. The money from tonight's gig was supposed to help pay for it.
But…"
"But?" he said.
"The couple said they'd pay me later which probably means I won't get
paid."
"That sucks," Sam said.
"It really does," I agreed.
Once we were on the road, heading toward Chariot, I gave in and took
off my heels. I couldn't be sure, but when my toes were finally free, I think
I moaned in relief. Judging by the look of amusement on Sam's face, I
definitely had.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Okay…"
"Why are you dressed like that?"
I lifted a brow. "Like a blueberry?"
Sam gave a shrug. "I was going to say a cross between Elsa and
Cinderella."
"Well, well," I said, "the Sam Bishop knows his princesses. Who
would've guessed?"
"Thanks to my sister," he said. "And I still don't get why you keep
saying the before my name. Makes no sense."
It made sense to me.
 He'd always been the Sam Bishop in my head. As in the one and only,
the original, the Sam Bishop who stole my heart at age ten and refused to
give it back. I couldn't say any of that to him, though, so I just shrugged.
"I was hired to play a wedding," I said.
"And they asked you to dress like a princess?"
I shook my head. "The bride wanted a very specific shade of blue. Not
baby blue, aqua or cornflower. Royal blue is what they asked for. This is
what I had, so…"
Sam nodded. "Looks good on you."
"Yeah, right," I said with a scoff.
"I'm serious."
Feeling my cheeks heat, I crossed my arms.
"Gotta be honest, though, I wasn't sure if you'd be able to fit all that in
the car. That's a lot of material."
His words startled a laugh out of me, and I gave a mental curse. I would
not be charmed by him. The guy couldn't even remember my name for
goodness sakes.
"Is part of it still hanging out the door or…?" he said innocently.
"Ha ha," I said, "very funny, Bishop."
"Got a laugh out of you, Kent."
Well.
At least he remembered my last name, I thought.
"And I'm assuming if I hadn't been able to fit inside your inadequately-
sized sports car"—he scoffed—"you would've just left me on the side the
road?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah, I would've just had you take the dress off."
My jaw dropped, and he cocked a brow.
"It could fit in the trunk," he said.
"That would be kind of hard to explain if we got pulled over," I said.
"Not really. We'd just say we're dating and got a little carried away.
Teenagers, young love, and all that." Sam shot me a small smile. "We're
supposed to be out, living it up. Right?"
My cheeks were so red they could start a forest fire.
Luckily, it was dark in the car, so I didn't think he could see.
"Careful there," I said lightly. "I'm not sure your girlfriend would
appreciate you flirting with me."
 "One, who says I was flirting with you?" Sam said. "And two, even if I
was, it's fine. I don't have a girlfriend."
"What?" I said.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "There's no girl. I'm
single."
"Since when?"
"Since about two hours ago when we broke up."
"But…you and Brisa were like Chariot High's power couple," I said.
Sam chuckled. "If you say so."
"I do. So would anyone who saw you two together. I mean, you're
Bam."
"Never liked that name," he mumbled.
"Why not? It's an awesome couple name."
Sam grunted.
"I just can't believe it," I said, still processing the news. Brisa and Sam
were no longer. The couple to end all couples had cut ties. "You must be
pretty sad, huh?"
"It's not a big deal."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," he said, reaching toward the radio. "You good with
music?"
"Sure," I murmured.
It was obviously still too fresh. I'd heard breakups were difficult—
though I'd never experienced one myself. Sam probably needed time to
deal. What was it he said? It had only been two hours since the breakup?
That wasn't nearly enough time to get over your lost love.
My mind was brimming with questions.
There was still so much I didn't know.
But it was none of my business. Just because I was insanely curious did
not mean I had the right to pry.
Let it go, Scarlett.
Heartbreak isn't easy, and you don't want to make it worse.
I decided to sit back and enjoy the warmth surrounding me, the
twinkling stars that seemed to watch from overhead, the gorgeous sounds
pouring through the speakers. Turned out Sam Bishop had good taste in
music. This was one of my all-time favorites.
"I love this song," I said.
"I know," he said then turned up the volume.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 2

My silence lasted the first verse and chorus.

Then I blurted, "I think we should talk about you and Brisa."
"Why?" Sam asked.
"Because ignoring your feelings won't make them go away."
He gave me a look.
"It's true," I said and turned the music down. "Trust me, Bishop. I
prefer to write things out. But since that isn't an option right now, maybe
talking would help."
"I told you I'm good," he said.
"But how could you be?" I tilted my head. "You just broke up with the
girl you've been dating for the past three years."
Sam's lips twitched. "Funny how you know that."
I lifted my chin, refusing to feel embarrassed. "Please. Everyone
knows. Bam is couple goals."
"Really wish you'd stop saying that."
"Sorry," I said. "You know, several people have told me I'm a great
listener. That includes my sister, dad, violin teacher, the kids in my
mentoring program, and even people I just met at the grocery store."
"So, you interrogate people at the grocery store," he said. "Why doesn’t
that surprise me?"
"Interrogate is a strong word."
"Is it though?"
"I just want to help."
"And you're dying of curiosity," he put in.
I was.
I really was.
"Well…of course," I admitted, "but that doesn't mean it won't help you
too. You're going to have to field questions tomorrow anyway. There's a lot
of spilled tea here, Bishop, and it's piping hot."
He chuckled at that. "What?"
"High school kids aren't known for minding their own business."
 "Pot," he said, pointing at me, "meet kettle."
"Point taken. Still, might as well get your answers ready."
After a moment, Sam sighed. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
I nearly whooped in victory but held back.
"Everything," I said then cleared my throat, trying to tamp down my
enthusiasm. "We should be thorough, so you're not caught by surprise. It
might also help you sort out your emotions."
He waited.
"Where did it happen?" I said.
"At a party," he said.
My ears perked. "Oh yeah? How was it?"
Sam gave a shrug. "Standard. Your normal back-to-school throwdown,
all the usual shenanigans."
Well.
That told me exactly nothing.
Shaking off the disappointment, I still had to bite back a smile. Sam
Bishop successfully worked the word shenanigans into conversation.
Something about hearing it come from his unsmiling lips made me want to
laugh.
"Hmmm," I said, "and who was there?"
"Lots of people. The Banger brothers invited all the upperclassmen,
think most of them showed up. Everyone knows they throw the best
parties."
"I didn't know," I murmured.
"That's because you don't go to parties."
I sniffed. "Yeah, I do. I party all the time."
"Okay…"
"And how would you know anyway?"
Sam shot me a glance before turning back to the road. "I've never seen
you at one."
Because the truth was: I'd never been.
To a real high school party.
My schedule was jam-packed full of private violin lessons,
extracurriculars, applying for scholarships, trying to book performances,
running my mentoring program, and completing homework. There hadn't
been time for normal things like attending an event thrown by the Banger
brothers. Actually, "Go to a party" was #15 on my list of firsts. Not that I'd
mention it to Sam—or anyone for that matter.
The list was for my eyes only.
It was private.
It was personal.
It was important—which was why I carried it with me everywhere.
Shifting, I felt the edges of the folded up piece of paper dig into my
chest right next to my heart.
I was determined to check off every first on the list before graduation.
That was the goal.
The only problem was some of them—okay, most of them—were
romantic. And if I hadn't had time for parties, I definitely didn't have time
for romance.
It was a tiny issue, really.
A conundrum I'd yet to solve.
Still, giving up wasn't in my nature.
I'd figure out a way to complete my list…somehow.
And anyway, despite Sam's assumption, I'd been to a few small parties
—which yes, okay, most of those were for my family on their birthdays,
organized by myself with only my dad, Charlotte, and me in attendance. I
didn't think that would qualify as a "party" in Sam's eyes.
So, I just shrugged.
"Like I said, I've been to parties. Maybe you weren't looking hard
enough," I added then asked my next question. "Back to you and Brisa.
Did you break up with her, or did she break up with you?"
"Does it matter?" he said.
I nodded. "Absolutely."
"The decision was mutual, I guess."
"Are you sure?" I said.
"Yeah."
"You don't sound sure, Bishop."
He shook his head. "You don't give up. Do you, Kent?"
"Nope," I said, "my sister tells me it's one of my more annoying traits."
"She's right," he mumbled.
"I'm sensing some hostility." I tilted my head then said, "Brisa broke up
with you, didn't she?"
 Sam scoffed.
"I thought as much. It's nothing to be ashamed of. People get dumped
all the time."
"Not me," he said. "I've never been dumped."
"Never?" I repeated. "Really?"
"Really. And why would you assume she'd dump me anyway?"
"Lots of reasons," I said. "For one, Brisa is universally liked. Literally
everyone loves her."
"People love me," he muttered.
"Yeah, but not as much as they love Brisa."
He had no response to that.
"Two, she's super smart. I heard she got accepted to every college she
applied to, including three Ivy leagues which awarded her scholarships.
And three, she's gorgeous. I mean, she's like the most beautiful girl in our
graduating class."
"That's debatable," he muttered.
I shook my head. "No, Brisa was voted Most Beautiful four years
running, ever since our freshman year."
Sam said nothing, so I went on.
"I just can't see anyone breaking up with her," I finished.
"But you can see someone breaking up with me?"
When I remained silent, Sam released a quiet laugh.
"Ouch, Kent. You really go for the jugular, huh?"
I frowned. "That's not what I meant."
"Right," Sam said.
"It's not," I said. "As awesome as Brisa is, you have good qualities too."
"Do I?"
"Yeah." Afraid I'd hurt his feelings and struck by the very real
possibility that maybe he was heartbroken and needed some cheering up, I
spoke quickly. "Anyone would be lucky to have you, Bishop. You're a real
catch."
Sam shot me a dubious look.
"You're a nice guy with a kind heart. A real gentleman." He gave
another scoff, but I ignored the sound. "You are. I don't know anyone else
who'd pick up a stranger on the side of the road and offer them a ride."
"Serial killers do that," he muttered.
 "That's true," I said with a frown, "but still."
"And we're not strangers."
"Mmm. You're smart too—though honestly, I did notice you sleeping
through precalculus last year. Still, you somehow managed to get an A in
that class—which was kind of unfair, but good on you."
He stayed silent as I continued.
"You're also awesome at sports. My sister made me go to some of the
soccer games last year, so I've seen it for myself. You definitely know how
to kick a ball."
"Thanks," Sam said sounding amused.
"Welcome," I said. "And of course, you know you're stunning."
My mouth snapped shut after that, hoping he hadn't heard.
But his deep, warm chuckle told me he had.
"Stunning?" he repeated. "Don't think I've ever heard that one before."
I tried to disappear into the dark upholstery, but Sam glanced my way.
"Please, continue."
When I shot him a questioning look, he grinned.
"I like hearing what you think about me."
Cheeks still red, I scoffed. "I don't think about you, Bishop."
"Sounds like you do," he said.
"Listen, you know you're—"
"Stunning," he put in. "Yeah, I've been told."
Closing my eyes, I tried again. "Listen, you know what you look like.
I'm sure it's gotten you out of tons of trouble."
"It has," he agreed.
"But you being attractive means nothing, okay? I'm immune to your
charms."
"Oh yeah?"
I nodded.
"I feel like there was an insult in there somewhere," he said then held up
a hand to stop my next words. "But you did such a good job boosting my
ego. Be a shame to undo all that now."
Brow furrowed, I said, "You're playing with me aren't you?"
Sam shrugged. "You're a lot of fun to play with, Kent."
With a sigh, I sat back.
"Done with your questions?" he asked.
 "I've actually got one more," I said, finally asking the thing I'd been
wondering from the start. It always baffled me when it came to
relationships. "Why did you and Brisa break up?"
"It's complicated."
"But you two seemed happy together. I thought you were friends."
Sam released a long exhale then said, "We're still friends—at least, I
hope so. Brisa can hold a grudge. Honestly, that's what I'll miss most, our
friendship." He said all this with affection before his tone sobered. "But
this has been coming for a while now. The truth is we just weren't right for
each other."
"Didn't look that way from the outside."
He laughed softly. "Looks can be deceiving, Starlet."
Instead of correcting him again, I let that one slide. So what if the guy
couldn't remember my name? He was clearly going through something.
We drove for a few more minutes in silence before Sam gestured to a
gas station up ahead.
"Need anything?" he asked.
I suddenly realized that yes, I did need something. A couple things, in
fact.
"Yeah," I said, "I haven't eaten anything since before the wedding, had
to leave my cake behind, so I'm starving. And I really have to use the
restroom. That okay?"
"Sure."
"Also, do you have a phone charger?"
Sam nodded, opening the center console and holding up a cord.
"Awesome," I said, leaning forward, reaching into my bra and dragging
out my phone. "I've got to charge mine. My cell always dies at the worst
times, you know?"
Looking up, I found his eyes locked on…my breasts.
Warmth and something fluttery filled my stomach as I straightened.
He was still looking.
"Bishop?"
"Yeah?" he murmured.
"If you're done staring, can you plug this in for me?" I said, trying not to
laugh.
 Sam's eyes flew to mine, and I had the pleasure of watching a pink flush
rise to his cheeks. "Uh, yeah. No problem."
Handing him my phone, I said, "I'll be back in a minute."
He cleared his throat. "Want me to come with you?"
"No, that's okay."
"Right," Sam said gruffly. "Be safe in there."
I hopped out of the car, shut the door, then turned back to point at him.
"Guard my violin with your life."
Sam grinned. "You got it."
As I was walking away, he called out to me.
"Hey, Kent. You always keep electronics in your bra?"
I looked back at him over my shoulder. "I keep lots of important things
in there."
"Interesting," he said smoothly. "We'll have to discuss further when you
get back."
Shaking my head, I went into the station, found the restrooms and
relieved myself, washed my hands, and stood for a moment, staring at my
reflection in the mirror. The dress was still blue and poofy. My hair was
windblown; my makeup needed a refresh; and despite Sam's appreciative
gaze, my boobs remained a modest B-cup. But there was a light in my eyes
that I hadn't expected to see. Was that because of Sam? I knew the answer
and didn't know what I'd do if he kept flirting with me. I wasn't exactly
well-versed in these matters.
But I liked it.
Grabbing a few snacks and two waters, I walked up to the cash register
and dug a ten out of my top. The gas station attendant's gaze didn't bring
any of the flutters Sam's had, so I kept my gaze averted. I didn't realize it
until I was putting the change back. But as I felt inside…my list wasn't
anywhere to be found.
Okay, don't panic, I thought.
I just needed to retrace my steps.
Walking back to the bathroom, I looked around but saw nothing. I
walked to the register again with my eyes locked on the floor…but no luck.
I went back again just to make sure, but as I made my way out to the car,
searching the ground and coming up empty, my shoulders felt heavy.
Maybe I'd been wrong before. Maybe it came loose when I was walking in
the dark. If that was the case, then I guess it was lost forever.
There was no way I could ask Sam to go back.
He'd already done more than enough.
And besides, it was a windy night. What were the chances that we'd be
able to find my list anyway?
Maybe it was for the best, I reasoned.
It wasn't like I'd found a solution.
The list was still full of unachieved dreams.
I could just make another one with more manageable items.
For some reason, that thought felt like accepting defeat, and I couldn't
even muster a smile to meet the grin Sam threw me as I got back into the
car.
"You good?" he asked.
"I guess," I mumbled as I put on my seatbelt.
"You sound sad, Kent. Did something happen?"
"No."
"Really? I saw you walking around in there, looking at the ground. You
lose something?"
I sighed. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. Let's just go."
"Okay," he said, "but first can we talk about this list?"
Whipping around to face him, I saw Sam sitting there, eyebrow cocked,
grin in place. And between his fingers, he had…my list of firsts.
"Where'd you get that?" I said then reached forward to grab it—only to
have him pull his hand back, out of my reach. "Oh my God, Bishop. Give
it here."
"Well, it was in my car, so…finders keepers, Kent."
I tried to get it again, but my dress prevented me. "You're a jerk."
"Thought I had a kind heart," he said.
"I was just being nice to make you feel better," I said, crossing my arms.
"Go ahead. Make fun of me and my list. I don't care."
"Why would I do that? I think it's awesome."
My eyes shot to his, and he grinned again.
"Never knew you were such a romantic."
I grumbled, sitting lower in my seat. "You didn't even know my name,
Bishop. I bet there's a lot you don't know."
 "Wow," he said, easing the car back onto the road. "That was kinda
harsh. Weren't you named miss congeniality two years ago?"
I blinked. The fact that he knew I'd been in the Miss Chariot High
pageant—it was a moment of insanity that ended up being a fun experience
—was a shock. Again, he'd gotten my name wrong twice already. But
somehow, he remembered that little detail…. "How did you—"
"It's a long ride back, and I look forward to proving you wrong."
Sam lifted my list again.
"Right after you explain what a back hug is," he said. "Is that some kind
of weird fetish or what?"
With another sigh, I said, "If I tell you, do you promise to give my list
back?"
"Of course, Kent."
He shot me a wink, the dim light of the dash catching the twinkle in his
eyes.
"After all, I'm a gentleman."

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 3

"So yeah, lists are the best," I said. "They help people stay organized,
focused, and goal-oriented. I came up with this one a while back, my list of
firsts. Now, I just have to complete it."
Sam was silent.
Apparently deep in thought.
It didn't bode well.
"I'd love to get it back."
He handed the paper over without a word.
"Thank you," I murmured.
Sam didn't glance my way while I tucked the paper into my cleavage.
Not even a peek. His hands, however, did tighten on the steering wheel. I
wished I could read minds—or just his mind. But unfortunately, I was left
to wonder.
I'd never liked not knowing.
As we drove on, the stereo changed to a new song, and I couldn't take it
anymore.
"You okay over there?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "just thinking."
"About what?"
"Things."
Wonderful. Now, I was even more curious.
Sam suddenly turned to me and said, "Have anyone specific in mind?"
I was lost. "What do you mean?"
"Well, none of the items on your list are checked off," he said, returning
his gaze to the road ahead. "Least as far as I could tell."
"Yeah, I know."
"I noticed a lot of them require two people," he added. "Like a
boyfriend or girlfriend."
"You noticed that, huh?" I said.
Sam gave me a look. "First kiss, first date, first slow dance in the
kitchen—still don't get where that came from."
 From a memory of watching my parents do just that years ago—before
everything went wrong. Oh yeah, and a dream I had after watching Captain
America travel back in time, choose to stay behind and grow old instead of
leaving the love of his life.
There was no way I'd confess any of that to the guy sitting across from
me. He already knew too much.
"It's romantic," I said through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, Starlet, so are most of the things on your list. I'd have to be blind
not to notice."
Annnd he got it wrong again.
We were discussing something intensely personal—to me anyway—and
Sam couldn't even be bothered to remember the C in Scarlett. Awesome.
"You seeing anyone?" he asked.
I shook my head in disbelief. "Seriously? You're asking if I have a
boyfriend?"
"Hmmm, and you're avoiding the question. I'll try not to read into that."
"You know, typically when someone asks that question, it's because
they're secretly in love with the other person."
A quiet laugh. "In your dreams, Kent."
"You don't know anything about my dreams, Bishop."
"We'll see about that. So?" he said after a beat. "Are you seeing
anyone?"
"Not at the moment."
"Got someone you're interested in?"
"That," I said as heat rose to my cheeks, "is none of your business."
"You're right," he said, shoulders seeming to relax. "But I'll take that as
a no."
"It's a small problem. I'm working on a solution."
He nodded. "Which means you haven't found one yet."
"Not yet." I rolled my shoulders back then shot him a look. "Why so
interested?"
Sam held his hands up, easily switching from intense to laid back.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said.
"How thoughtful of you," I mumbled.
"Have you told anyone else about your list?"
"My sister knows."
 "That's it?" When I nodded in confirmation, Sam's eyes lit up. "Ah, I
see. So, it's a secret list."
"Until about ten minutes ago, yes," I mumbled.
"I'm honored that you shared it with me."
"One, I didn't share it with you, Bishop. You hoodwinked the info out
of me by holding my list hostage. And two, can we please talk about
something else?"
Sam bit back a grin. "You got it."
He was quiet for about five seconds before the head shaking started.
Then came his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. The last straw was
when I noticed how he kept glancing my way with this concerned look on
his face.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said then, "just seems like a lot."
Turning to face him fully, I lifted a brow. "Meaning?"
"You've got what, 20 items on there?" he said.
"22," I corrected. "Though there is room for late additions."
"Okay"—Sam shrugged—"and you said you want to have it done by
graduation?"
"That's right."
"Why so soon?" he asked.
To get all these firsts out of the way. To experience romance and all the
things I've read about in books and seen in movies in a controlled
environment. To know what love feels like…but not fall. So I won't run the
risk of getting my heart broken.
Even if I told him, I didn't think Sam would understand. Actually, I
didn't know who would. Everyone seemed so eager to fall in love. Like it
was the best thing in the world.
I knew better.
Love could leave you damaged, lonely, devastated.
And it always left. Everyone you love would leave eventually.
I'd rather stick to my list and timeline, thank you very much.
"I have my reasons," I said.
Sam's brow furrowed, but he didn't press me. "So you've got that many
things to do, more than half of which need another person."
"Your point?"
 "You're missing a crucial piece of the puzzle."
I lifted my hands. "True, but I'm not worried. I'll find someone."
He remained unconvinced. "Come on, Kent. Your list reads like you're
looking for the boyfriend experience. Some guys are creeps. You can't
choose just anyone."
"I agree," I said, "which is why I came up with another list of criteria."
"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," he said.
I ignored the hint of sarcasm. "Anyone who wants to be my assistant
will have to meet certain qualifications."
"Assistant," he deadpanned.
"Yeah," I said then counted off on my fingers. "He'll need to love music
or at least appreciate good music."
Sam nodded. "And?"
"Well, he'll have to practice good hygiene—"
A quiet laugh.
"—have at least a B average—"
"Are you going to ask for his transcripts?"
"Probably not. But a girl's got to have standards, Bishop." I sniffed. I
wouldn't be able to do this with someone who didn't care about school or
couldn't at least understand why I did. "He'll have to be more experienced
than me romantically and—"
Sam chuckled, and when I shot him a glare, he said, "Sorry. It's just…
based on your list, I don't think that'll be too hard."
Instead of feeling embarrassed, I shrugged.
"It's true," I said. "I haven't done much. I never had the time—which is
the whole point of my list. I want to experience things the right way. Have
all my romantic firsts be amazing."
Sam tilted his head. "You know, you can't plan everything."
"I can try," I said.
He didn't respond, but I thought I caught a flash of amusement in the
upturn of his lips.
"And finally, he can't be cruel—to people or animals. I don't think it'll
be too hard. Just need to find someone who checks all the boxes."
There had to be people at my high school who'd meet the minimum
requirements.
Right?
 "What do they get out of it?" he asked which completely threw me for a
loop.
"Huh?"
"Your assistant. What do they get for helping you?"
"I…didn't think of that," I murmured. Looking up at Sam, I said, "Do
you think they'll want something?"
Sam tilted his head from side to side. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm cynical
by nature, so you shouldn't take what I say too seriously. But in my
experience, people don't help other people just because."
As we drove past the charming wooden Welcome to Chariot sign,
announcing our arrival into the city limits, I pointed at him and said, "Isn't
that what you're doing?"
"There's an exception to every rule, Kent," he said.
He was right about that—but my mind was reeling.
How had I never considered this?
What could I possibly give someone to convince them to help me
complete my list? In my mind, it had been easy. I'd just narrow down the
possible candidates, ask one of them to assist, and then we'd get down to
business. But that, I realized now, was a dream scenario. What would they
ask in return? And what would I do if I had nothing to offer?
It was a lot to think about.
And the more I thought, the more despair I felt.
"Hey," Sam said gently, "don't worry about it. You'll figure it out."
"Yeah, but…maybe you're right," I said. "Maybe it's too much, finding
someone, all the items on my list."
He clucked his tongue. "You never used to give up so easily," he said,
drawing my attention back to his face.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Exactly what I said." When I remained silent, Sam went on. "Weren't
you the girl who learned sign language in two weeks so Anessa Langston
wouldn't feel left out?"
My jaw dropped. "You remember that?"
"Yeah." Sam gave me a nod. "I also remember you forcing everyone
else in our class to learn too."
"But that was in the fifth grade," I said.
 "Hmmm. Then in sixth, didn't you become the youngest person ever to
audition and get first chair violin in all-state orchestra?"
"I was."
"In eighth grade, you organized that meet-and-greet pet drive and didn't
leave until you made sure all the animals went to good homes."
"My cousin, Viola, helped with that."
"Yeah, but it was your idea. Wasn't it?"
I nodded.
"And when we were freshmen, did you or did you not start up your own
mentoring program, convince the school board to fund it, and get other
students to sign up and help kids without support?"
"Or with absent parents," I mumbled then shook my head, staring at him
like I'd never seen him before. "How could you possibly know all that?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Told you, Kent. We're not strangers, far from it."
"Yeah, but who told you about my mentoring program? We weren't
even friends in the ninth grade."
"Didn't know we stopped being friends," he said.
I bit my cheek then said, "Well, you stopped talking to me after middle
school. So, I just assumed."
He chuckled, but this time it held a bitter edge. "You stopped talking to
me too."
"Because I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your jock friends."
"Whatever you say."
"You went out of your way to avoid me."
Sam scoffed.
"You did," I said. "You totally froze me out, and I never knew why."
"Maybe you made yourself believe that," he said, "because you were the
one embarrassed. You couldn't handle the fact that I was just a jock and you
were what you've always been."
"Oh, and what's that?"
"An overachieving know-it-all."
My turn to scoff.
"Perfect Scarlett Kent," Sam said. "I get it. You didn't want to lower
yourself to be seen with a guy like me."
"That is ridiculous," I said.
 "More ridiculous than you thinking I wouldn't want you to talk to me in
front of the guys on the team? Please." He pulled the car to a stop then
turned to face me. "They wouldn't have cared."
"Yeah, right," I retorted.
"And even if they did, I wouldn't. I've never cared what anyone
thought."
That was true. Sam Bishop didn't give two cents what anyone else
thought or had to say about him. I'd always envied that, thought of it as one
of his magical superpowers. Still…
"That was before everyone knew your name," I said, and he frowned.
"Before you got on the radar of every student in Chariot High. The guys
wanted to be you, the girls wanted to date you."
He released a scoff, but it was true.
"You became the Sam Bishop, and like you said, I stayed who I always
was. Just Scarlett."
He shook his head. "You're the one who froze me out."
"No, I didn't."
"Yeah, you did."
"I never would've done that," I said. "You were my best friend."
"And you were mine," he said.
His voice tried to wrap its way around my heart, but I wouldn't let it.
Couldn't. Breaking away from his intense gaze, I stared out the window,
surprised to find that we were on the street in front of my house.
When did we get here?
I'd been so absorbed in our conversation that I wasn't aware of my
surroundings.
"I should go," I said, gathering my things and reaching to open the car
door. "Thank you again for the ride."
"Wait," Sam said.
When I turned, he cupped my face in his hands, stared into my eyes,
slowly leaned forward, and placed the sweetest kiss against my forehead.
My breath caught in my throat.
It only lasted a moment, but I swear I heard a symphony playing in my
ears.
As he leaned back, I was speechless. Sam's lips tilted up into a half-
grin, and he said, "To help with your list."
 I nodded, sliding from the car, feeling like I was walking on air.
"Call the garage tomorrow, and we'll send someone to pick up your car,"
he said. "Friends discount."
Turning back around, I tilted my head, meeting Sam's gaze through the
open window. "It's okay, you know. To admit you forgot about me."
"I never forgot."
"Hmmm, and yet, you called me Starlet for the majority of the ride."
Sam met my gaze steadily. "You wanted to be an actress."
"What?" I laughed.
"You said it was your calling. You had a lot of those. This one lasted
about a month—during which time you forced me to watch Schitt's Creek
every day after school. We were ten."
I swallowed, the memory assaulting me all at once.
He was right.
I remembered it like it was yesterday. The two of us going to Sam's
house, sitting on the couch, binge-watching the series, eating popcorn and
laughing until our sides hurt. The sad moment when I had to go home—
and those giddy final minutes as he walked with me to my house. I had
wanted to be an actress. More specifically, I'd wanted to be Moira Rose
with her fabulous clothes, her wonderfully quirky family, and her
unshakeable belief in herself.
"I started calling you Starlet, and you said you loved it."
I definitely didn't hate it.
"Like I said." Sam gave a shrug. "I never forgot."
"No, I guess you didn't," I said softly. Shaking myself, I added, "Thanks
again, Bishop. I'll see you at school."
He nodded. "Good luck with your list."
"Hmmm, I think I'll need it."
"Nah, you'll get it done," Sam said. "You just have to find the right
partner."
At that, one thought flashed bright as a star in my mind.
I was pretty sure I'd already found him.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 4

Hey. I forgot to ask do you need a ride to school?

Spoon of oatmeal stalled half-way to my lips, I stared at the text for
several seconds before replying.
Bishop?
His answer came a moment later.
No, it's the other guy who drove you home last night.
I exhaled and felt my lips lift into a smile. Fingers flying, I saved his
contact info while composing my response.
Me: Sorry for the confusion. There are just SO many people lined up to
be my chauffer.
Sam: Where am I in line?
Me: Hmmm…currently third.
Sam: Really?
Me: Really.
Sam: Who's ahead of me?
Me: My dad and sister.
Sam: Ah.
Charlotte was at UNC about two hours away. She was my best friend,
and I missed her like crazy. But when I told her what happened to my car
during one of our late-night chat sessions, she'd offered to drive back. My
sister was amazing like that.
After thinking it over, I sent Sam another text.
Me: You might actually be fifth. Oh wait, sixth!
Sam: Never knew you were so popular, Kent.
Me: Well, now you do.
I was having way too much fun. My breakfast was rapidly cooling in
the bowl in my lap, the cinnamon oatmeal and banana combo all but
forgotten. But I couldn't seem to tear my gaze off my phone. Taking
another bite, I waited for Sam's reply.
Sam: Okay, you win. Who's 3, 4, and 5? I want names.
Me: Why?
 Sam: To confirm I'm the best choice.
I shook my head.
Me: So cocky, Bishop.
Sam: I just know my worth.
Me: Do you?
Sam: Yep. Whoever these guys are, I know I'm better.
Biting back a laugh, I put down my spoon.
Sam: Got a better car too.
Me: Okay…
Sam: Better looking.
Me: I get it lol.
Sam: So?
Me: There are no guys, Bishop. I didn't ask my cousins, but I'm pretty
sure they'd be willing.
Viola, Aurora, and Freya were my girls. They weren't just family; they
were my friends. No way they'd leave me hanging. I'd do anything for
them too if they asked. Our family as a whole was tightknit. Sam seemed
to think so too.
Sam: Should've known. The Kents always stick together.
I grinned.
Me: You know it.
Sam: They should make a TV series about you guys.
I laughed out loud at that.
Me: Oh yeah, having everyone take a deep dive into my issues and
laugh at all my mistakes. That wouldn't be terrible at all.
Sam: You could join Moira, Johnny, David, and Alexis.
Me: I knew you loved the Roses as much as me.
Sam: Is that even possible?
Me: No—but you loved it.
Sam: Yeah, maybe.
He sent another text right after.
Sam: So, you're good? I'd hate for Perfect Scarlett to miss the first day
of school.
I rolled my eyes.
Me: I'm good. And please, I never would've skipped. Would've walked
to Chariot High if I had to.
 Sam: No need, Kent. If you have car trouble again, just call me.
My throat suddenly went tight with emotion.
Sam: Gotta go. Don't forget to call my dad's garage later. Bye, Kent.
Me: Okay. Bye, Bishop.
I swallowed the lump in my throat but couldn’t do anything about the
flutters in my chest. We'd talked/texted more during this car ride than we
had in the last three years. And yet, Sam told me to call him if I had
trouble.
That only strengthened my belief that I'd made the right choice.
Sam Bishop would be the perfect partner to help me complete my list.
Now, I just needed to convince him.
Last night, I'd written down all the reasons he should say yes—with a
strong emphasis on how this could benefit him. Brainstorming and making
lists were two of my favorite things. I'd also gotten to break in a brand new
journal and pens that would only be used for this project. Because that's
what this was. A project. And I was determined to give it my all.
"Scarlett, you're making the face again," Dad said.
Turning to him, I smiled. "What face?"
"The scary one."
I scoffed.
"Kidding." Dad chuckled while elbowing my side. "That face is the
one you make whenever you're determined to get something, no matter
what it takes."
"I think you're making all that up."
Leo Kent aka the Best Dad Ever shook his head. "No, I've seen it a lot
over the years. You made it right before you went in and nailed your All-
State audition"—he lifted a finger—"when you placed first in that oratorical
contest"—another finger—"when you convinced me to buy you that over-
priced violin…"
"Hey," I said, pointing at him, "Yami Yami was worth every penny."
He gave me a look.
"You know I'll pay you back when I'm the world's #1 professional
violinist. I already promised."
"I know," Dad said with a warm smile, "and you know, I'd never in a
million years let you do that."
 He wouldn't. I'd already tried to pay him back some of it, even going so
far as to sneak cash back into his wallet, pants, or car, but somehow the
money always ended up back in my purse. With a sigh, I shook my head.
"Scarlett, all I want is to see you and your sister achieve your dreams,"
he said, "and for you to remember me when you're famous."
"So sappy," I said with a frown. "But I love you anyway."
"Thanks, kid. The feeling's mutual."
"Everything go okay with your client?"
"Yeah," he said, "but that call lasted way too long. Sorry about that."
"It's okay," I said.
Dad lifted his brows expectantly. "How'd your conversation go?"
I tilted my head. "What conversation?"
"Saw you texting up a storm over there, looking down at your phone,
wearing a big smile. I almost thought I was driving Charlotte," he said on a
laugh.
"She is more of a smiler," I mumbled.
"True. So?"
"It was nothing."
Dad hummed. "Was it a guy?"
"Dad."
"A girl?"
"Dad."
"Is the texter cute?"
"I'm leaving now," I said, pushing open the car door, but Dad laughed
and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Okay, okay, I won't meddle," he said then added, "though I'd love to
meet whoever made you smile like that."
I shook my head, leaned over and gave him a quick hug.
"Thanks for not meddling," I said. "Love you."
"Love you," he said back. "Have a good last first day, Scarlett."
Once I was out of the car, I took a deep inhale and exhale. That was a
close one. Dad wasn't strict or anything when it came to guys—between
Charlotte, who'd gotten her first boyfriend last year, and me, who'd…well,
never dated, he'd never needed to be.
But if my plan grew wings, I knew Dad would eventually have to meet
Sam.
 Or re-meet him.
The guy who'd been my friend.
The one who made me cry for weeks when he stopped talking to me.
The one my dad said was no longer welcome in his house.
But I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.
First things first, I had to find Sam, explain my brilliant plan, and gently
persuade him to sign on.
Turned out finding Sam wasn't hard. In fact, as I walked the halls, it
seemed like he was the only thing anyone was talking about. Well, he and
Brisa. As I'd predicted, news of Chariot High's It Couple breaking up was
making the rounds. The CHS student body was all aquiver.
"I can't believe they broke up."
"I thought Bam would last forever."
"Do you think Brisa would date me now? I think I've got a shot."
"I heard she's already dating someone else."
My brow furrowed at that. So soon?
Right as I got to my locker, two people stepped up to the one next to
mine, talking too loud for me to ignore. Not that I tried very hard. Grayson
and Alexandria always had the best gossip.
"This is devastating," Grayson said. "The worst possible thing that
could happen. Brisa and Sam were OTP."
"One true pairing?" A scoff from Alexandria. "Yeah, right. Like that
exists."
"Come on, Sam's stupid hot—"
"He is pretty fine."
"—and Brisa's a babe too. I heard she's the one who broke up with
him."
"I heard he was crying earlier at his locker."
"What?" I exclaimed, and the two glanced at me. "I mean, really? Is
that true?"
"Yeah, I saw him a second ago," Alexandria said, leaning a bit closer.
"Poor guy. I didn't see actual tears, but he definitely looked sad and kinda
pissed."
"Of course, he's pissed!" Grayson threw his hands into the air. "Brisa
was his true love, and she's already moved on. I heard she was just shoving
it in his face too."
 "So cold," I said.
"So cold," Alexandria agreed.
"I didn't think she was like that."
"Me either," Grayson put in. "But there must've been a reason she broke
up with him."
I shrugged. "I heard it was a mutual breakup."
He shot me a pitying look. "Whoever told you that was either
misinformed or intentionally fooling themselves."
"Yeah," Alexandria said before I could argue that I'd heard it directly
from Sam himself, "that doesn't even sound right."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because breakups are never mutual."
Grayson was nodding. "It's true, Scarlett. With a forever couple like
Bam, it's always the same. One person does the breaking; the other person
is left pining."
"Always thought Sam would be the breaker in that scenario,"
Alexandria said.
"Me too," Grayson said. "But I guess you never know."
"I should go," I said with a wave. "See you guys later."
As I weaved through the crowded hallway, I had one goal. Get to Sam
as quickly as possible and assess the situation for myself. I thought there
might've been a misunderstanding—I mean, Sam told me the breakup was
mutual—or maybe even a bit of exaggeration on Grayson and Alexandria's
part—like me, they loved a good piece of gossip. But what I saw when I
finally got to Sam's locker made me freeze.
It was worse than I thought.
The scene was exactly as Alexandria had described.
Sam was on one side of the hall, his six-foot-three frame leaning back
against his locker. He would've looked like a fantasy come to life—or at
least my fantasy—if it wasn't for the tightness in his shoulders or the dark
scowl on his face. Actually, strike that. The scowl only made him look
hotter. It was like that with some guys. Unfortunately. Pissed or not, Sam
Bishop was, as always, stunning. His dark hair and light gray-blue eyes
were an arresting combination.
Those eyes were currently locked on the two people across the hall.
 Brisa's arms were wrapped around the neck of another guy. Even from
the back, I recognized him as Cooper Hollingsworth. My mind spit out
everything I knew about him in five seconds flat. Football player. Class
treasurer. Decent student (though word on the street was he paid his sister
to do his homework). Member of the popular crowd but not a complete
jerk. I knew that last to be true because I'd seen Cooper, more than once,
walking his dog. Anyone who was a dog lover couldn't be all bad.
Admittedly, it wasn't much. But I'd never seen him hanging out with Brisa.
I didn't even think they knew each other.
As Cooper pulled Brisa closer, attaching his lips to her neck, she let out
a tinkling laugh.
Then again, maybe they did.
When I looked to Sam, I noticed the slight tightening of his jaw.
Yep, he was definitely pissed and pining.
I couldn't stand seeing him like that.
It was clear Sam hadn't been completely truthful last night. With the
way he was watching them, I could tell he was feeling something, maybe a
whole bunch of things. Maybe he hadn't even known his true feelings until
this very moment.
I'd had my suspicions, but this just confirmed it.
Sam was obviously still in love with Brisa.
And she, for whatever reason, was acting like he didn't exist.
Or wait, no. That wasn't right.
It seemed like…she was trying to make him jealous. Brisa was
beautiful, and she might be a nice person—but I could've sworn she just
glanced at Sam before laughing and turning her attention back to Cooper.
My eyes narrowed.
I'd seen this film before.
And I wanted to give Sam a different ending.
Despite our history, Sam really stepped up last night. He helped me
without question. And I was determined to repay the favor.
I strode over until I was right in front of him.
"Hey, Bishop," I said.
"Hey," he said back.
His eyes hadn't moved off Brisa and Cooper.