Naughty November

Prologue

PROLOGUE

JOOLS

“This sucks.” I hug my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them.

Devin and I sit on my garage roof as removal men put my entire life into a van. I’ve lived here my whole life. I don’t want to leave.

“It does, but we’ll write to each other,” Devin says.

“Yeah, of course, but I don’t want to go at all. Do you think Mum and Dad would notice if I stayed behind?”

Devin laughs and puts his arm around my shoulders. “They’d notice. So would my parents.”

I huff out a sigh.

“You’ll come back to the UK to visit, won’t you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. We might never see each other again.”

Devin tucks me against his side. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

He puts his fingers under my chin and coaxes me to meet his gaze. The early morning light picks out the honey and amber tones in his brown eyes.

“We’ll see each other again,” he says.

I tremble. “Promise? ”

“Yes. We’ll find a way.” He sounds so confident, but that’s Devin through and through.

“How do you know?”

“May I?” He gestures to my arm.

I nod, holding my breath.

He lays my arm over his knees and uses his nail to draw on my skin. His touch is light and gentle, and the drag of his nail is only slightly uncomfortable. My skin tingles, but he distracts me with a soft kiss.

My tummy flutters. Although we’ve been friends for years and neighbours for longer, being boyfriends is new and exciting. Or, it was until Dad dropped the bombshell that we were moving to Australia.

As the kiss ends, he rubs his thumb over my skin. “We’re meant to be together, Jools. You’ll see.”

I look at what he’s drawn: the shape of a heart with our initials inside it. The skin is already inflamed and bright red. In a minute or so, temporary white welts will form. I love it when he draws on my skin. He’s the only person I’ll tolerate doing it, the only person I trust to create marks that will last for half an hour. My chin wobbles. When will he get a chance to do so again?

“We’re only sixteen,” I whisper, which is what my parents said when I told them I didn’t want to be ripped away from Devin.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Julian. You’re only sixteen. You’ll meet other boys. So will he. In a few years, you’ll forget all about him. We haven’t kept in touch with anyone we met in school.’

Devin rests his forehead against mine. “So? That doesn’t change how I feel about you. This isn’t the end for us, Jools.”

“Then what is it?”

“A pause.”