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It's Not What You Think

Samuel Carington was a lot of things. He was the captain of the lacrosse team, captain of the soccer team, straight-A student, serial dater, the golden boy of Westmore Academy, and it appeared he was also the boy who had been writing to me.

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Remember when I told you about Noah’s glare? The sweet, wounded, doe-eyes that failed to incite any type of fearful reaction from their...

“Hey, Hudson, what’s up?” Samuel leaned against the locker beside mine, his trademark smirk plastered on his ridiculously handsome face....

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