More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
July 28 - July 29, 2025
not been trying to get a rise out of me, I’ve enjoyed talking to her. I feel like I can tell her anything. I never get bored or distracted and I’ve never wondered, anxiously, if we should get back to work. She’s endlessly entertaining with her stories about sneaking out of her house to chase storms, her favorite audiobooks, entering a hot dog eating contest and coming in second. It feels like I know everything about her, but I always want to know
“Life’s meant to be lived, not explained.” He raises his eyebrows. “And that means…?” I laugh. “I read it in a book somewhere. I thought it sounded clever.”
There's electricity in the air, and it isn’t just from the upcoming storm. Bree bounces in her seat and bites her lip while adjusting the dial on her portable radio. She might be my favorite person on the entire planet.
“My parents say love is overrated.” Bree’s voice is cold. “Love is for the people that advance you to the next step of success.” I want to take her hand. I can’t imagine growing up in an environment that doesn’t believe in love. “The truth is, I’ve lost my belief in love. Not for others, of course, but for myself. My house doesn’t feel like home and my friends in Edendale are temporary. I don’t belong anywhere.”
He glances down at our clasped hands and then gives me his trademark half-smile. A warm feeling washes over me and I smile back. Noah grins. “For our date.” It’s official. I’m on a date with Noah Sawyer.
Then, a flash of lightning sparks behind my eyelids and his lips meet mine. The world stops spinning, the rain stops falling, time stops ticking. It’s just Noah and I in the eye of the world’s most dazzling storm, and I know that he’ll never let me go.
The next three weeks are a blur of stolen kisses, quiet confessions, and rolling storms. On rainy nights, I sleep in the loft and we fall asleep with our fingers intertwined. During breaks, Bree comes in the kitchen and helps us with various tasks before starting impromptu dance parties. I join in, and I even get Fernando to teach me a few spins and dips to use on Bree. During the rare moments where Bree and I aren’t together, I scribble away at my book, finishing two to three pages a day.
The truth is, I love her. I love everything about her — from her hilarious PJs, to her intelligence, to her dance moves. She inspires me every day, with a smile or a laugh or a wink.
“You are something else,” she whispers. “I didn’t think people like you existed — especially for a girl like me. You’re my home, Noah, you’ve always been my home. I love you, too.”
Something is bothering her and I want to find out what. But, I also know Bree. I can’t push her too hard or I might lose her forever.
I’m kicking myself for not fighting for her, for not saying anything. I should have said something. Frustrated, I pick up my notebook and skim through. I rip out a couple of pages, crumple them, and throw them across the room. This is why I should never have broken from the recipe. There’s a reason my lifetime motto has been to help others and to put them first. Bree was my childhood friend, my best friend, and my first love. I can’t imagine my future without her, but she’s better than where I come from.
