He’s all anyone can talk about—speculating on the reason for his transfer to our school, celebrating his future career as a soccer star, or gushing over how tall, dark, and handsome he is.
Even my parents mention him in hushed, angry whispers, fearful he’s going to shatter my brother’s records and destroy the legacy left behind when he died.
However, I avoid Vince Novak at all costs, hiding from him and the rest of the world behind my camera lens. But my best laid plans—and photos—are nearly ruined when my tangible disinterest in his existence intrigues him.
The more time we spend together, the more his little flaws peek out beneath the layers of perfection and break down the walls I’ve built around my heart.
