on July 16, 2012
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Sydney Pierce has just met the guy of her dreams…just don’t tell her psycho boyfriend, Trevor.
With a gorgeous boyfriend, a thriving gymnastics career and a stellar academic record, anyone would assume that Sydney has it all. That's precisely what the seventeen-year-old perfectionist wants you to believe, and she works hard to keep up the pretense. Especially now that there are cameras following her for a documentary on Olympic hopefuls.
When Grant, the charming new student, disrupts her carefully crafted routine, the cracks beneath her perfect façade begin to rise to the surface and despite Trevor's objections to their friendship, she can't stay away from him.
As her connection to Grant pulls her closer to him, the once lighthearted relationship with Trevor takes an intense and dark turn, forcing her into a position in which not only her happiness, but her safety is at stake. Can Sydney learn to let go of everything she is clinging to in order to gain everything she has ever wanted, or will she realize her breaking point too late?
“Grant,” I joke back, trying to mimic his serious tone.
Still, I refuse to look up. I can’t. I don’t want to look into those eyes.
“Syd, look at me,” he says. The way my name sounds coming from his lips is more than I can handle right now.
I give nothing in response. I am frozen.
He lets out an audible sigh and reaches out with a single finger and tilts my chin up so that he can see my face. I don’t flinch away, but I still avoid his eyes.
“What the hell happened to you?” Grant demands. His voice is thoughtful but firm.
“I tripped and fell down the stairs at my house,” I say with a light laugh. He’s quiet. Good. Let’s leave it at that.
“I don’t believe you,” he finally says.
“I tripped, drop it,” I say through my teeth.
“Jesus Christ, just wait until I—“ his voice is protective and full of anger.
My eyes dart up at his threat. At the thought of him confronting Trevor. That would ruin everything. Forever.
“I fell down the stairs. That’s it,” I say firmly. Tears form in my eyes. My nose and chin burn as I fight them off. I can’t cry. I’m determined to make Grant believe me.
Grant stares back at me. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he still doesn’t buy it.
“Please,” I say quietly. “Please. Let it go, for me.” My voice has become a tortured beg.
He finally breaks our stare and looks down at his hands. He nods his head once, then turns toward the front of the classroom.
Not another word is spoken between Grant and me.