The only thing worse than not being able to tell your best friend you’re head over heels in love with him? Having to smile and nod when he enlists your help to ensnare the girl of his dreams.
Braylen didn’t even want to go to Lennon Pryor’s epic graduation-night party, but when Fynn begs her to be his “wingwoman,” she can’t deny him. Talking up her BFF—how he’s magic behind a camera, with a killer sense of humor, and eyelashes that frame the most gorgeous blue eyes in the history of forever—is easy. Supporting his efforts to woo someone so completely wrong for him? Not so much.
Fynn knows that grad night is his last shot to find true love before leaving for college. And thanks to Bray, he gets his chance with the beautiful Katy Evans. But over the course of the coolest party of their high school careers, he starts to see that perhaps what he really wants has been in front of him all along. Bray’s been his best friend since kindergarten, though, and he’d rather have her in his life as a friend than not at all.
His eyes found mine before looking around the room. “It went by fast, didn’t it?”
I nodded, recalling the first day we’d walked into this room freshman year. Fynn had held the door open for me, more out of habit than an attempt to be a gentleman, and had announced to the seniors that I was their new editor-in-chief. Of course, I hadn’t earned the position yet, but I had by the end of the year—which quickly made him the star photographer.
Not that being my best friend made it happen—the boy had a knack for capturing the most stunning images imaginable—but we’d been friends since kindergarten; there was no way I wasn’t giving him all the prime stories to cover.
An easy grin shaped my lips as I thought all the way back to the first day I’d met him. Don Trainer—who would always be the school bully—had stolen my favorite red crayon and snapped it in half, laughing the way only evil maniacs could as I cried my eyes out. Fynn had shoved him so hard his butt hit the activity mat with a thud loud enough to stop my tears. He then took my broken pieces of crayon to the teacher and asked for tape. He returned it to me, a thick bandage of scotch tape around its middle. We’d been inseparable since.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow. The move shot a thrill of warmth through my chest.
I blinked a few times, mentally cursing the rapidly approaching graduation ceremony forcing my mind to overrun with memories. “Just thinking about how you’ve always been the Prince Charming sort.”