I've lived a life of ease and simplicity, never really facing any hardship or moments of worry. Everything I needed seemed to fall into place, like it was all arranged for me by some invisible hand.
My parents were college sweethearts. They met on campus, fell madly in love, and married shortly after. Dad was the black sheep of his wealthy lawyer family, which owned one of New York's largest law firms. He rebelled by choosing architecture over law, and now he runs one of the most successful firms in Beverly Hills. My mother, with her creative flair, wrote the hit trilogy, Never Judge a Book by Its Cover, a crime-thriller series that became wildly popular and spun off into a highly successful franchise. They were both incredibly accomplished, each in their own right.
Because of their success, my parents never pressured me about my future. They always reminded me that I could choose any path I wantedâeven if that meant lounging around as a pampered princess who spent Daddy's money. Still, I inherited some of their drive, a desire to make something of myself. I crafted a detailed plan for my future, setting clear goals and expecting nothing less than perfection, just like them.
Thanks to my parents, I had the luxury of focus and exploration. They funded every interest I had, from ballet and tennis to piano and golf. I never worried about the cost of these hobbies. Whenever I got bored, I stopped, and they didn't question it. It was a privilege I never took for granted.
I didn't worry about my parents' marriage, either. Their love was palpable, sometimes embarrassingly so. They doted on each other and me, constantly making me feel like their top priority. I felt loved every single day, and I adored them for making my life so easy.
I'm fully aware that my life has been one of privilege and comfort, and I'm not one to deny it. I've never had to overcome serious challenges, never been weighed down by real-life struggles. The hardest decision I faced was picking our vacation spot - Hawaii or Thailand? My mom loves Thai food, but Dad had some interest in Hawaii, related to the housing market or something.
School was just as easy. I didn't need to stress over friendships, yet I always had people around me. I wasn't a straight-A student, but I held my own. And while I didn't fit the mold of a runway model, I had enough charm to turn heads. I graduated high school as prom queen alongside Brooke Leicester, who had an obvious crush on me. He would follow me around, persistently asking me out, which I always turned down.
It wasn't that my parents disapproved of dating - my mom was pretty relaxed about it. When I got my first period at thirteen, she gave me "the talk," advising me to wait for marriage as per our Catholic beliefs but emphasizing that if things happened earlier, I shouldn't feel guilty. She just wanted me to be safe and well-informed, sharing details on precautions and consent. She even told me that if I ever felt uncomfortable talking to her, I could always reach out to Aunt Kemi, her best friend and a therapist, who would keep anything I shared confidential.
Mom respected my privacy and let me grow into my own beliefs. Though devoutly Catholic, she never forced religion on me, allowing me to go to church at my own pace, which turned out to be quite often.
I know I'm blessed to have this family. My parents' relationship set a standard that I hoped to find for myself someday. I'd had plenty of admirers in high school, but none ever felt right. Mom always said that when the time came, I'd know - it would be a feeling I couldn't ignore. I hoped that feeling would come in college, since I had zero dating experience and was waiting for the right person.
My closest encounter with romance was a fleeting moment when my lips accidentally brushed against Reid Carter's, during a silly game. We were passing a card around by holding it to our lips and sucking it to keep it from dropping. When the card slipped, there was a split-second touch, a brush of his lips against mine that left me feeling things I couldn't quite explain. It was my first spark of real attraction.
But he graduated a year early, leaving my first crush unfulfilled. Besides, he had a reputation for being a player, a "bad boy" who flitted from one casual relationship to the next, which wasn't what I envisioned in my journal under entry; dreams of romance. I still kept a journal, actually, along with a planner I followed religiously. You might think it's silly, but planning was my way of preparing, and being prepared has never hurt anyone.
Even now, I was following my planned schedule as Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" played loud and proud through the aux in the glossy, jet-black Range Rover Sport Dad had gifted me for getting into UCLA. He thought it was the perfect gift to celebrate my acceptance to one of California's top schools, even though I would've been fine with my old Audi A3 from high school. But for Dad, nothing was ever "too much" when it came to me. Just like when I turned eighteen - he made us design a condo together, built it, and handed me the keys on my birthday. The thought still made me smile and cringe a little; I was grateful, but the endless "princess privilege" comments on my birthday v-log made me wish Dad would go for more low-key gifts.
I loved my parents, but they could go a bit overboard sometimes. Like for Mom's 30th birthday, Dad rented an entire beach villa for the weekend, flew in her favorite chef from Italy, and arranged a private concert just for the two of them. After that, she made him promise to plan simpler birthdays with her instead of grand gestures. They had been doing that ever since, happily spending each birthday cozied up, doing whatever couples do when they're still head-over-heels.
As the song reached its chorus, I sang at the top of my lungs, "And I've got a blank space, baby, and I'll write your name!" I was probably being a little dramatic, but it felt amazing, driving down the familiar streets. Palm trees lined the sidewalks, gliding by like I was leaving snapshots of my past in the rearview mirror. I could see my favorite coffee shop on the corner, the park I used to go to every Saturday, and the quiet, tree-lined street where my best friend used to live. It felt surreal to think that, soon, these sights would just be memories.
My moment was interrupted by the car's assistant announcing an incoming call from "Mummy Dearest."
"Hey, Mom," I said, answering with a grin.
"Hey, baby! How's my college girl feeling?" she asked, her voice warm and bubbly.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Mom, it's been five minutes. I can still see the house from here."
I heard her laugh, then Dad's voice grumbling playfully in the background. "I told you it was too early to call." She teased him further.
"I just miss my little princess already. This is why I wanted to drive her to school myself!" he chimed in.
Mom teased, "Why buy her a car if you're not going to let her drive it?" They started their playful back-and-forth, and I smiled at their easy banter. It was moments like these that made my childhood feel like one long love story.
"Maybe I didn't think that part through," Dad admitted, and I laughed out loud.
"I miss you too, Dad," I said, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement.
"Promise you'll come home every holiday andâ"
Mom cut him off. "Don't listen to your dad. It's okay if you want to spend holidays with friends, honey. Just remember..." she drew out teasingly.
"Safety first... I know, Mom," I finished, chuckling.
"Alright, love, call us when you're settled in, okay? I've got to console your dad now," she said, her voice mock-dramatic.
I was about to reply when, out of nowhere, someone leaped over a fence and darted into the street. My heart dropped as I slammed on the brakes, barely stopping in time. The guy skidded to a halt right in front of my car, looking directly at me, and my pulse spiked as I recognized him. Memories of that night, the silly game, and the accidental touch of his lips brushed through my mind.
"Isla? Are you okay? What just happened?" Mom's voice was filled with panic.
Snapping back to reality, I managed to respond quickly. "Sorry, Mom, something came up. I'll call you later. Love you!" Without waiting for her reply, I ended the call, my attention locked on the guy in front of me.
Another figure leaped over the fence, clearly chasing him. Before I could process what was happening, Reid sprinted over to my car, yanking open the passenger door. "Isla! Open up!"
The adrenaline rush drowned out my questions, and I pressed the unlock button. He slid in, and I got a full view of him: tousled black hair, dimples flashing with that familiar smile, and deep, intense blue eyes that still looked mischievous despite the chaos. He was tall, his loose varsity jacket hanging open to reveal a plain white tee underneath, paired with ripped jeans and a baseball cap pulled low over his brow.
"Drive, Isla, drive!" he urged, urgency sparking in his voice.
My heart raced as I hit the gas, tires squealing as we sped down the street, leaving the other guy in the dust.
ð§ð¼ââï¸ð§ð¼ââï¸ð§ð¼ââï¸ð§ð¼ââï¸
Thank you for reading. What do we think about the first chapter? I hope we like it because there is so much more to come. Please feel free to check out my other book, The chase while you wait for updates on this one. Love y'all â¤ï¸