Thirty Seconds

A heartbroken girl, her brother's best friend, and a day they'll never forget.

Sometimes when we’re in the darkest of places, we find the brightest light.

 

I never gave much thought to seeing Sawyer again. Until tonight. I knew the exact moment when my life shifted. Because it was him and I was me and I wasn’t supposed to talk to him. Never ever—over my brother’s dead body—talk to him ever again.

 

I stared without breathing, my eyes soaking in his appearance. I should’ve turned away. No, run away, but curiosity kept my body glued to the fire pit’s bench. When fate threw you a lifeline, so far beyond your wildest daydreams, you didn’t ignore it.

 

Sawyer Alexander James. A crackle of interest sparked in the air between us. My brother’s sexy-as-sin friend strode across the backyard with his hands jammed into his pockets. The chiseled lines of his tatted up biceps strained against his faded Red Sox tee. He wasn’t a gym rat, more like just the right amount of toned muscles to make my knees go weak.

 

“Why is he here?” I murmured under my breath. “What would I say I’m doing here?”

 

Sawyer advanced on the fire pit, my safe haven after escaping a party swarming with arrogant alphaholes. A smile full of promise spread across his face. My brain blew a fuse. Capitol Hill stood chock full of players, but only I dressed the part.

 

 

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My words. My stories. My life. Christina Crayn.