Chapter 1: Roxy and Nova ’97

October 1997. Costa Mesa, California

Estancia High School

Nobody really noticed Roxy Hendron. That was the thing about her. She was the kind of girl who could walk into a room and somehow make herself smaller than she actually was. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the kind of face that made football players think about her in the shower—or better yet, think about getting her into one—and she knew it, which is exactly why she hated it. She didn’t want to be special. She didn’t want anyone following her with their eyes down the hallway. She just wanted to get to class.

Not that she looked like someone who was trying to disappear. White crop top, baggy skater pants, beat-up skate shoes, a studded choker and a small collection of silver necklaces layered underneath—the kind of girl who looks like she belongs at a skatepark, not on a football team’s radar.

“Come on, just one party. It’ll be fun.”

There were three of them. Football jackets, that particular brand of confidence that comes from playing on the school team and never once being told no. She’d dealt with this before. Smile, deflect, disappear. It usually worked.

But today they were more persistent than usual.

Third attempt. Roxy kept smiling, kept stepping back, kept trying to look normal while internally begging the universe to swallow all three of them through the floor. She wasn’t scared of them. Just exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that comes from someone constantly wanting something from you that you’re never going to give them. Certainly not to them.

“Seriously, it’s gonna be so—”

She never heard the end of that sentence. Because Nova Wrenley appeared. No warning. No dramatic entrance. She just walked up—and that walk, itself, was SOMETHING. She didn’t hurry. She moved like someone who knew exactly where they were going and had all the time in the world to get there. Ripped jeans, black boots, studded choker, large hoop earrings—visibly the kind of girl who knows how to make trouble. The hallway instinctively opened up around her.

She stopped in front of Roxy. Just a moment—that kind of look that takes someone in from head to toe and makes it completely obvious that she likes what she sees.

Then she grabbed Roxy’s waist. Pulled her close. Firmly, slowly, as if all the time in the world belonged to her.

Roxy’s hands landed instinctively on Nova’s arms—what else was she supposed to do—and then Nova took her face in her free hand and kissed her. Not a quick peck. Not a masterful performance. The kind of kiss that makes a person forget to breathe.

The hallway froze.

Roxy forgot to breathe. When Nova pulled back—slowly, on her own terms—Roxy stood there genuinely unable to locate the floor.

Nova looked her over. Half a smile. The kind that says—yes, this is exactly how I remembered you.

“Hey babe.” A wink.

Then she slowly turned to the three football jackets as if they were mildly interesting insects. Her hand still resting on Roxy’s waist.

“So listen up, disco rats, I spotted a pile of dog shit out in the yard—wouldn’t you rather swarm around that instead of my honey?” She raised her middle finger. Slowly. Deliberately. Giving the football jackets enough time to understand exactly what was happening.

The entire hallway held its breath.

All three looked at each other. Nova didn’t release the main one’s gaze. Not for a single second. She just stood there—Roxy still in her arm—with that quiet confidence that said she could do this all day and still be bored.

Something was visibly short-circuiting in the main one’s brain. The kind of internal meltdown when you have to simultaneously process that two absolutely stunning girls just kissed in front of you—and that this same forty-kilo redhead is now dismissing you like three-year-olds from a sandbox. With effortless audacity. One raised finger. All their pride evaporating right there in the hallway, publicly, in front of everyone. And she was grinning through the whole thing—provocatively, sexily, completely superior—in a way that made it impossible to say anything back without embarrassing yourself even further.

Finally one of them shrugged. “Lesbians,” he muttered miserably, and they walked away.

Nova watched until they disappeared. Then she let go of Roxy. Completely naturally, as if she’d never been holding her at all.

“Looked like you needed saving,” she said, already walking away. “Don’t overthink it.”

Roxy was still standing there. Her heart still hadn’t found its regular rhythm.

“I wasn’t I wasn’t overthinking it,” she said.

Nova glanced back over her shoulder with a teasing laugh. “Yes you were.”

She was right.