Between the Lines Read online

  RENEE HARLESS

  An unspoken rule.

  A friendship that will be tested.

  Quinn

  He was my crush at thirteen and

  ten years later that feeling never ceased.

  I thought that time and distance would change us

  but I never expected the feelings to grow.

  Now things are complicated

  His sister is my best friend.

  She’s also his twin.

  And I’m stuck in the middle.

  Trevor

  She was always my fantasy come to life and

  I knew even at sixteen that girls like her were rare.

  Soft, feminine, sweet to her core -

  she was my complete opposite.

  I knew how to keep her away when we were young,

  but I’m finding it hard to keep her out of reach

  when everyone is pushing us together.

  My sister can never know the

  things I plan to do to her best friend.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2018 Renee Harless

  This work is one of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. All trademarked items included in this novel have been recognized as so by the author. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  All rights reserved

  Amazon Edition

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover photo by Shutterstock

  Cover design by Porcelain Paper Designs

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Quinn

  Chapter Two - Quinn

  Chapter Three - Trevor

  Chapter Four - Quinn

  Chapter Five - Quinn

  Chapter Six - Trevor

  Chapter Seven - Quinn

  Chapter Eight - Trevor

  Chapter Nine - Quinn

  Chapter Ten - Trevor

  Chapter Eleven - Quinn

  Chapter Twelve - Trevor

  Chapter Thirteen - Trevor

  Chapter Fourteen - Quinn

  Chapter Fifteen - Quinn

  Chapter Sixteen - Trevor

  Chapter Seventeen - Quinn

  Chapter Eighteen - Trevor

  Chapter Nineteen - Quinn

  Chapter Twenty - Trevor

  Chapter Twenty-One - Trevor

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Quinn

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Quinn

  Epilogue - Trevor

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Dedicated to my best friend Renee.

  Chapter One

  Quinn

  THE CAR JOSTLES ME back and forth as it jerks with every bump and hole in the road. Nope, this isn’t the worn-down country road you’re imagining. It’s a four-lane major highway heading toward my destination—home. A place I haven’t stepped foot into in the past six years.

  Another bump knocks the water bottle from my lips and onto my lap, soaking through my white denim shorts.

  Great.

  “Fuckity, fuck, fuck,” I screech, bopping in the seat as the cool water flows into each tiny crevice of my legs and clothing.

  A horn honks loudly from the car next to me, and I look up hastily to swerve back into my lane. My chest heaves as I gather air in my lungs, my knuckles turning white against the black leather steering wheel.

  Needing a moment to gather myself, I veer the car over to the shoulder, moving across the other lane of traffic. The car, of course, hits another deep pothole, and I pray the tire doesn’t burst from the impact.

  Finally situated on the side of the road, I snag my sweatshirt from the back and place it under myself on the seat. Unfortunately, I can do little about my wet shorts. Hopefully when I arrive at Izzy’s place she’ll have a fresh pair I can slide on before I unpack. Or, which is more likely, they’ll be somewhat dry by the time I arrive.

  My best friend, Izzy, is the only reason I plan to return to our town just outside of Houston, Texas. When my agent suggested that I get a little rest and relaxation before I start filming my next movie, I had no intention of leaving Los Angeles, California. LA is my home now, but the very night my agent Priscilla made her suggestion, I was jolted out of bed when a box crashed to the floor in my closet. Once I had finally calmed down and made sure there wasn’t anyone trying to attack me in my condo, I had discovered my box of photo albums had been the offending item to scare me shitless. And when I investigated further, walking amongst the scattered images, my gaze landed on a picture of myself, my best friend, and her brother.

  It had been from my first summer in Dale City, Texas. My family had up and moved two weeks prior when my dad’s job relocated, and I was ecstatic to learn that there was a girl my age living across the street, I had visions of us being the best of friends, as close as sisters, because I had no siblings. When I found out that she had a brother, my body turned into a permanent piece of petrification. Coming from an all-girls middle school, my experience with boys was very limited. Clothing, makeup, hair? I knew nothing of it. My mom and dad were doctors who lived in scrubs and counted their days by the surgeries they had scheduled.

  But the day the moving truck pulled into the driveway, a bouncing ponytail of curls made its way toward me and enveloped my body in a hug so tight I was scared that I was being kidnapped. A boy about a foot taller than me had shown up moments later and pried the girl’s arms off my body, and I gasped for air as he stood there with narrowed eyes. Izzy had introduced herself as I was held captive by the boy’s eyes, and then she explained that his name was Trevor. I had rolled his name around in my head a few times and decided that it matched his appearance. He was equally mysterious and alluring. And at thirteen, I instantly developed my first real crush as my heart pitter-pattered in my chest beneath his gaze.

  Izzy and I had been inseparable as teenagers, though we were nothing alike in looks or personality except for our blonde hair. She was the head cheerleader while I had been the president of the drama club. But our friendship never wavered.

  The moment my gaze came across the picture in my closet, I knew I could take the next month away from LA and go back home. I hadn’t seen Izzy since her last trip out during the summer, and that had been almost a year ago. It had been too long.

  Veering back onto the highway, my phone chimes with an incoming call. As if knowing I was thinking about her, Izzy’s voice echoes in the car as I connect the call through the stereo. My car is too old for one of those new Bluetooth setups, much to my agent’s dismay, but I can still talk handsfree with a bit of wiring work.

  “Are you here yet?” Izzy cries out.

  “No, not yet. I’m like an hour outside of Houston,” I claim, peering at the green sign as I pass.

  “I can’t believe you’ve driven the whole way. That’s like a hundred hours.”

  “Twenty-one to be exact, but you know I’m used to going on very little sleep.”

  “I just can’t wait for you to get here. An entire month with my bestie. And I have a surprise planned.”

  Oh no. I hated Izzy’s surprises. First it was letting her choose my high school schedule. Art class and I d
id not mix. Then I let her choose our prom dresses. Chartreuse looked great on her tan skin, not so much on my porcelain coloring. Finally, she surprised me with a graduation party at my house when my parents were away at a medical convention. You can imagine when little loner me walked into a party and no one knew who I was. And in typical fashion, my parents came home a day early from the convention to find me and Izzy passed out on the couch.

  “Izzy, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You remember what happened last time.” That very night is the reason I haven’t touched an ounce of alcohol in six years. It was also the night that solidified my move away from Dale City. Two weeks later, I up and left without so much as a goodbye to my best friend.

  “It’s going to be fine, Quinn. Don’t be a party pooper. You’re only young once.”

  A tractor trailer honks as he passes, and I return my focus to the road in front of me instead of on my growing anxiety.

  “Izzy, I need to go. I’ll be there soon.”

  An hour later, I pull off the highway and make my way toward home. The strip malls closest to the highway give way to the sidewalk-lined neighborhoods of Dale City. The town is big enough to get lost in but small enough that most people know who you are in some fashion. Both a blessing and a curse.

  I drive up to a small white ranch-style home, a complete contrast to my loud and outspoken best friend. Glancing down at my phone, I verify that I have the correct address before I turn off the car.

  Here we go.

  Stepping out of the car, I let the humid heat move over me. Summer in Texas is no joke, the sweat is already beading on the back of my neck causing the fine hairs to curl on their ends. Moving around toward the back of the car, I pull out the duffel bag I stuffed there in my hasty retreat to leave LA, and also snag the few copies of the script I need to work on while I take this mini vacation.

  Suddenly I feel a pair of eyes on me, but as I look around the neighborhood, I don’t find anyone openly gazing at me. Shrugging the duffel bag higher on my shoulder, I lock my car and make my way to the front door.

  My hand is poised at the door, anticipating knocking, when it swings open widely and I find myself crushed by two thin arms wrapped around me. The hug reminds me of the first time I met Izzy, and I can’t help returning the gesture.

  “I can’t believe you’re here! I never thought you’d come back to Dale City, especially since you’re this ‘world-famous actress’ now,” she air quotes, giving me a small reprieve to breathe.

  I blush from her compliment. She’s not incorrect. I had very little intention of ever returning to the town that rarely paid me any attention.

  “Come on, I have your room ready,” she instructs as she tugs me into her house.

  My eyes roam the space, the neutral décor giving way to pops of color. This is the Izzy I had come to love like a sister. She is equally calm as she is spunky.

  “We’ll grab the rest of your bags later. Right now I want to catch up,” she adds as she opens a door to a small guest room. The walls are a subtle blue, almost gray in tint. A bed sits between two windows overlooking the backyard, covered in a blue paisley duvet.

  I slide my duffel from my arm and place it on the bed, then rifle around for a pair of yoga shorts. My current shorts have dried, but now they’re itchy and uncomfortable.

  “I’m going to change really quick. My shorts are feeling funny since I spilled a water bottle on them earlier.”

  “Sure, the bathroom is down the hall to the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once I situate myself in dry clothing, I make my way back to the bedroom and find Izzy resting casually against the headboard with a Dr. Pepper waiting for me.

  I haven’t had soda in years, not since I left. Truthfully, I haven’t had much that would be considered unhealthy in the last six years, so I groan the moment the bubbly liquid touches my lips. It fizzles down my throat, and I unsurreptitiously belch as it settles in my stomach.

  Placing the cap back on the bottle, I put it on the nightstand and crawl beside Izzy on the bed.

  Her eyes rake my body up and down before she meets mine. “You look good, Quinn. California obviously agrees with you.”

  “Thanks. I really love it there. All the people, and there’s always something going on.”

  Izzy smiles, but I can tell by the way her eyes don’t crinkle in the corner that she’s forcing it.

  “What’s going on, Iz?”

  She takes a swig of her own Dr. Pepper and I watch as she gulps it down. She straightens her back and moves to sit cross-legged on the bed.

  “I had always hoped you would hate it there and move back home. Of course, that’s a terrible thing to think for your bestie. And when you told me that after a month of being there, you had gotten the lead in that movie, I prayed it would bomb. But it didn’t, of course. You were amazing in it, and you're amazing in all of the movies.”

  “Izzy, I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I’m your best friend and I never wanted to hurt you. Plus I knew your parents made it hard to come back.”

  My parents. That’s a sticky situation in itself.

  “Do you plan on seeing them while you’re home?” she asks.

  “I don’t intend to, but I do want to stop by the house at some point. And Izzy, I’m sorry I didn’t make an effort to visit you more. I haven’t been the best friend in the world.”

  Flicking her hand in the air, she lets our troubles fall by the wayside.

  “You’re an award-winning actress. None of us ever really expected you to come back. I’m just glad I get you for a little while.”

  Leaning over, I rest my head on her shoulder and she rests hers on top of my head. It reminds me of a time when we were inseparable and innocent.

  “So tell me, what’s this surprise?” I question as I take a deep breath, letting the damp, cool air from the central air system fill my lungs.

  “Well, I was thinking we could go out tonight and celebrate your being home. We’ll get dressed up and everything.”

  I eye her skeptically. The last thing I remember is there was only one bar in town, and it wasn’t a place for young girls to visit. Hopefully that’s changed.

  “Where did you want to go? I didn’t really bring any dressy clothes with me.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll just need shorts and boots. The stereotypical Texan outerwear.”

  I hate to tell her that I haven’t unboxed my cowboy boots since I packed them up years ago. When I moved to LA, I took my entire savings from working at the vet’s office while in high school—after purchasing my car, of course—and rented a teeny-tiny studio apartment. I was lucky to get a big break when I did because I would’ve ended up on the streets soon. California is expensive. After my first movie launched me into stardom, I was able to afford a larger condo. During that move, I just shoved the box onto the upper shelf of my closet with everything else that reminded me of home.

  “And where will we be going exactly?” I ask as I move off the bed and start unpacking my duffel bag of travel clothes.

  “It’s a bar downtown called Sidewinders. It’s new, and every once in a while they have a band that plays. Come on, Quinny, don’t be a hermit.”

  I chuckle as she leaves her spot on the bed and stomps her foot heavily on the ground. Leave it to a twenty-four-year-old to throw a tantrum like a toddler.

  “I’ll go, but I need a nap first. And don’t call me Quinny. You know I hate that.”

  “Ok, nap. I’ll leave you alone, but first I have one quick question for you.”

  Prickles tingle along my neck as she grabs the shirt I’m folding from my grasp and tosses it on the bed.

  “Look at me, Quinn.”

  I take a minute to gather my thoughts before I twist my head to gaze over at her. I knew this question was coming, and when she would visit in California I was always able to escape her scrutiny. Here, now, I’m stuck with no way out.

  “You’re my b
est friend. Why haven’t you asked me about my family.”

  “How are your parents?”

  “Good, but I’m not dumb. Ask again.”

  “Izzy, how is your brother?”

  “That’s better. Trevor is Trevor. And I seriously hope and pray that you’ve gotten over that crazy crush you had growing up, because he’s still the captain of the douchecanoe team.”

  “Douchecanoe team?”

  She waves her hand in frustration. “A team of douchebags. Come on, I know you’ve heard it. Anyway, don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be too busy working to be around much. You’re supposed to be home to rest and relax.”

  “And read through my script.”

  “Yes, and read through your script. He promised to be on his best behavior.”

  “Best behavior? He was never cruel to me. He was just… dismissive, that’s all.”

  Trevor was always good at ignoring me as a teenager, and I never really knew why. Though I always supposed it was because I didn’t mix with his group of rebels and that he always saw me as his little sister, much to my dismay.

  “Well, whatever it is, he’s going to leave us alone so I can cherish my time with my bestie. Go take your nap and be ready to leave by eight.”

  “Got it.”

  I haven’t really thought of Trevor in years. With my celebrity status, I didn’t have any personal social media accounts, just ones that were run by my publicist, so I havn’t seen or heard from him since I left. And when I would speak with Izzy, we kept our conversation light and drama free.

  As I lie in bed, I think about Trevor and know that my childhood crush probably looks just as handsome now as he did then; there’s no way the infamous Trevor Shaw could be anything else. He had been my best friend just as much as Izzy, the three of us inseparable. He was always good about listening to me vent my adolescent troubles without adding any words of wisdom; he would just take me in.

  Then one day that changed, and I never knew what happened. He wouldn’t say hi to me in the halls if we passed in school, or walk with me and Izzy to the ice cream shop in town. It never seemed to bother Izzy—she seemed more pleased about it than anything—but it had hurt me to lose him as a friend.