Read Young Love (Bloomfield #4) Online
Authors: Janelle Stalder
Young Love (Bloomfield #4)
Young Love
A novel
Janelle Stalder
YOUNG LOVE
Copyright 2016 Janelle Stalder
Published 2016
Amazon Edition
Cover Design by Cover Couture
Ebook Formatting by
White Hot Formatting
Amazon License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please don’t participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Also by Janelle Stalder
EDEN SERIES
EDEN
EDEN-WEST
EDEN-SOUTH
EDEN-EAST
NEW WORLD SERIES
SWITCH
MASKED
TESTED
UNDERGROUND
SILENCE
BLOOMFIELD SERIES
BRUSH STROKES
SIMPLE BEGINNINGS
DECIDING LOVE
YOUNG LOVE
To everyone out there with a dream,
Don’t stop until you achieve it. Never give up on yourself, and never listen to anyone who says you can’t. You can.
xo J
Chapter 1
Honor
“Miss Honor, watch me!”
I looked over at little Jeanie as she cartwheeled across the mats.
“Awesome,” I said, clapping. “You’re getting so much better at that.”
“I know! I practice.”
I smiled, wrapping an arm around her, and leading her out of the studio. “Practicing is good. Make sure you also practice your routine.”
“I will!”
I watched her run off to her mom before turning to head to the front desk to submit my notes from class. Monday was final exams, so Friday’s acro class was my only one this weekend. I usually taught Saturday’s ballet classes too, but I needed the extra time to study.
Grabbing my bag and jacket, I waved bye to Celia, the owner of Bloomfield Dance Academy, and headed outside into the late evening twilight. Perrie, my cousin, was already waiting there, her car idling.
“Hey, Billy Elliot,” she said in her awful British accent as I got into the passenger side.
I scrunched my nose at her. “Could you not call me that please?”
“No,” she said simply, driving forward. “That’s your nickname and you will love it.”
Resting my head on the headrest, I glanced over at her saying, “If I haven’t gotten used to it in the eleven years you’ve been calling me that, chances are it’s not going to happen.”
She shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”
I don’t know why I expected anything else from her. Ever since we were little, Perrie had made it her life’s mission to bother me as much as she could. We were more like sisters than cousins. Our mothers were sisters, and when Perrie’s dad left them just like mine had, they’d come to live with us. We’d practically grown up together.
Shaking my head, I turned up the radio. We drove through the MilkShack and grabbed some strawberry milkshakes as we danced to the infectious beat coming through the speakers.
The early summer breeze flew through our hair as we laughed, enjoying the beginning of our weekend. This month her hair was grey, which actually looked really awesome with her skin tone, and made her green eyes pop.
Actually, every hair colour looked good on her. Perrie was one of those people who could pull anything off. In grade seven I tried to add highlights to my chestnut hair, and ended up having to go to school with bright orange stripes. It had looked terrible, traumatizing me. I’d never attempted to dye my hair again.
My paler skin and grey eyes probably wouldn’t look nearly as nice next to gray hair anyway.
I finally took a good look around us, realizing we weren’t going in the direction of our home at all. We had just entered the downtown area, most of the businesses there still open. Perrie pulled into a parking spot along the street just as I turned to her.
“Where are we going? I have to get home so I can study,” I said.
She rolled her eyes as she shut the car off. “Relax, twinkle toes. It’s Friday night, you still have plenty of time to cram your pretty little head with useless information later. Right now you’re going to act like a normal nineteen year old, and relax for a moment.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped when she held a hand up.
“It won’t be long, so stop complaining.” Turning in her seat to face me, she continued. “Honestly, Honor, all you do is work and work some more. You spend six nights out of the week teaching classes or taking classes at that studio, and when you’re not there you’re working on schoolwork. It’s almost summer, and you need to start learning how to let loose a bit. When you start university in the fall, you’re going to be even worse.”
“I like teaching and being at the academy,” I defended.
She sighed. “I know, ok? Dancing is your life, I get it. And I admire all that you do at your age, but that still doesn’t mean you can’t come out with your cousin and hold her hand for a couple of hours while she gets tattooed.”
My mouth fell open. “
That’s
what we’re doing?”
She smiled, a wicked gleam entering her eyes. “You want to get one too?”
I instantly shook my head. “No way. You know how I feel about needles.”
She laughed. “I know, I’m teasing. But I seriously do want you to come and hold my hand.”
This was horrible. I wasn’t even sure I could handle watching her get tattooed without getting all sweaty. Needles seriously freaked me out.
“Please,” Perrie said, clutching her hands together. Those eyes got wide and pleading, and I knew I’d lost.
“Fine,” I said, my shoulders slumping.
“Yay! Thank you, cuz,” she said happily, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”
We both got out of the car and walked a short way down the street until we were standing outside the new Tattoo parlor.
“Isn’t this Briggs’ shop?” I asked, recognizing it.
“Yeah,” she said, sounding less than pleased. We had known the Briggs family for years, Catherine and I were the same age, but didn’t go to the same high school. Her brother, Kyle, and Perrie were the same age too, and had actually hung out more often than Cat and I ever did.
But something had happened between them, and now she seemed pissed whenever anyone mentioned him. I had no idea what.
“Why are we here then?” I asked, wondering if they’d made up or something.
She sighed, shrugging. “It’s supposedly the best place. And I’m not getting one from him anyway. He’s still apprenticing.”
I didn’t ask any more questions, following her into the cool looking shop that was still full of people even though it was late.
Perrie went to stand at the counter as I walked around the waiting area, taking in the artwork on the walls. I recognized Kyle’s work right away. He’d always been amazing at drawing, which is why I hadn’t been surprised when Mom told us he’d opened this place.
There were actually a lot of cool pieces. If only I had the guts to get a tattoo. I looked around the shop for Kyle, but didn’t see him. It made me wonder if Perrie had booked an appointment specifically when she knew Kyle wouldn’t be here. It wouldn’t have surprised me. She was stubborn like that.
“Honor, come here,” Perrie called out. “Is it okay if my cousin sits with me?” She asked someone on the other side of the counter.
“Yeah, for sure. I’ll get an extra stool,” a deep, husky voice replied.
I made my way through the other people, muttering
excuse me
as I tried to follow her to a station. Perrie sat on a chair that reminded me of the dentist, her face bright with excitement.
“How can you look so excited to have someone prick you with needles for hours?” I said with a disbelieving shake of my head.
Perrie laughed. “It’s not that bad,” she said. “Maybe you should try it and see for yourself?”
“Pass,” I said with a grimace.
“Grey, don’t you think Honor should get some ink on her virgin skin?”
It was only then that I sensed a presence behind me. I looked over my shoulder, coming face to face with a large chest covered by a black t-shirt. Muscular, tattooed arms held a stool, presumably for me. Slowly I raised my eyes and took in the most handsome face I’d ever seen.
Cold, blue eyes returned my gaze with interest. Grey was a scary looking guy. His angular face was covered in dark stubble, his equally dark hair shaved close to his head. His eyes though, they were eyes of the clearest crystal blue, and completely unreadable.
Whatever he saw in me seemed to be uninteresting, because he looked away dismissively, his lips set in a flat line. I couldn’t help but notice just how perfectly shaped and plump those lips were. Not feminine, no, no. But still full enough to be noticed.
“She doesn’t really look like the type,” he said, owning the husky voice I’d heard before.
For some reason this made my hackles rise. Who was he to say I wasn’t the type? He didn’t even know me. Not that he wasn’t right, but still.
If Perrie noticed my ire, she didn’t let on. With a chuckle, she turned away from me and started chatting to him as he got all his equipment set up beside her.
I sat on the stool, seemingly forgotten by both of them. Grey positioned the stencil on the back of her neck as they discussed the details. I nodded my head when she asked if it looked good, my mind removed from the situation since I was trying my best not to look at Grey again.
Perrie lay back on the chair, which he had flattened, settling on her stomach. The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun clicked on, and then Grey rolled his stool closer to Perrie, leaning over her back.
It was hard to ignore him then, my eyes instantly drawn to him as he worked. There was something about the concentrated look on his face that had my body heating. Geez, what was wrong with me? I was getting all hot and bothered over a guy who was too old for me, and nowhere in my league. He was all dark and dangerous, and I was...well, not.
I was a clean-cut ballerina for goodness sakes. Yes, I went to West High, which was considerably rougher than Bloomfield High on the other side of town, but there was nothing rough about me personally. I hadn’t fallen into the pitfalls the other students I’d gone to school with had. I didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t party. I didn’t have the time to. My focus was on dance, and to be the best at what I do, meant I had to keep my body and mind healthy, and my dedication strong.