Backup Plan (Boys of Silver Ridge Book 1), page 1
Backup Plan
Silver Ridge Series: Book One
Emily Goodwin
Backup Plan
Silver Ridge Series: Book One
©2020 Emily Goodwin
www.emilygoodwinbooks.com
www.facebook.com/emilygoodwin
Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar
Editing by Contagious Edits
Proofing by My Brother’s Editor
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or places is purely coincidental.
To Figment and Captain Jack: thanks for
bringing somuch joy to my girls.
(Yes, I dedicated a book to my guinea pigs.)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Thank you
About the Author
Also by Emily Goodwin
Chapter One
Chloe
Freshman year…
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I blink back tears and slowly turn away from the register after swiping my lunch card. I grip the edges of the tray so hard my fingers hurt. The cafeteria is a sea of mostly happy teenagers, excitedly talking—and bragging—about their summer vacations, comparing tan lines, and complaining about being back at Silver Ridge High.
Taking a slow step forward, I concentrate both on not slipping and falling in these heels while at the same time, looking around the crowded lunchroom for a place to sit. Knowing pretty much everyone is both the blessing and the curse of this small town, and right now I’m wishing I could curse every single of one them in this room.
Okay, not every single one. Just Derek Rogers and everyone within a ten-foot radius of him. I clench my jaw, preparing to walk past his table. Busy talking and laughing with his football buddies, he pays me no attention, but Lauren Wallace does. She makes it a point to give me a pressed smile and slip her arm through Derek’s right as I walk by.
The lump rises in my throat and I know I’m going to lose my battle with my tears. I stare straight ahead and keep walking, praying it’s not obvious that I’m frantically looking around for a place to sit. We have what’s called a “mixed lunch” here at Silver Ridge High, were students of all grade levels eat together. The entire school is put into one big group and then randomly divided. My best friend, Farisha, is in the lunch hour after this one, along with our friends Courtney and Arron.
Which reminds me of the second curse of a small town: there are fewer people to try and fit in with. Farisha is the peanut butter to my jelly, and not being together sucks more than I thought.
Especially since Lauren is now sticking her tongue down Derek’s throat. I speed forward, almost slip since I’m not used to wearing heels, and sit at the table in the back with a group of kids everyone calls “the stoners.” Whether they actually smoke pot all the time or not, I have no idea, but they look at me like the outsider that I am.
Still, I’d rather be here than anywhere near Derek and Lauren fucking Wallace. I’m not jealous, or even all that upset Derek dumped me over an instant message that I didn’t read until after he stood me up for a date. No, it’s not that I wasted a whole summer with that asshole because—hah—he wasted it with me too, and I never put out, which was part of the reason he dumped me.
But it’s what he said.
We’re different. You’re weird and not like the other girls.
Farisha held my hand as I read the message over three times, trying to figure out if I should take it all as a hidden compliment or accept his words at face value. Because I know I’m different. I know I’m not like most of the girls at Silver Ridge High…or in the rest of the world for that matter. I try not to let it bother me, but what if it’s true?
“Hey,” a deep male voice comes from across the table, and I jerk up, blinking back tears. Sam Harris sets his lunch tray down and takes the seat opposite me. “You okay, Chloe?”
My heart flutters in my chest, and I’m well aware half the female population of the lunchroom is looking at me right now. And I hope that includes Lauren fucking Wallace. “I’m fine,” I say with a fake smile, picking up my fork and stabbing it into my salad.
“Really?” Sam cocks an eyebrow and reaches for a greasy piece of pizza. “You don’t look fine.”
“It’s just first-day jitters,” I lie, though I know Sam can see right through me, which is why he came to sit with me in the first place, I’m sure of it. I’m thankful, of course, because now I’m not alone and I have someone familiar with me, but I hate the feeling of needing to be rescued. My day just got significantly better, that’s for sure, and being with Sam always puts a smile on my face.
My parents were friends with Sam’s parents back in the day, and Sam’s mom was over-the-moon happy that her childhood best friend moved back into town. And Mrs. Harris was there for us after Mom died, bringing us a casserole every week for nearly a year.
Sam is two years older than me but only a grade above me, thanks to cutoff dates and him being one of the oldest in his class and me being the youngest in mine. We became instant friends when we first met, and have somehow stayed close despite him being Mr. Popular and me being dubbed Creepy Chloe because of my interest in the paranormal and slight borderline obsession with all things Harry Potter. Though Sam’s baby sister is just as into magic and fantasy as I am, and having that camaraderie with the youngest Harris has always been respected by Sam, as well as his other brothers.
But I worry that’s all he sees me as…another little sister. The thought alone devastates me because for as long as I can remember, I’ve been in love with Sam Harris.
“So,” Farisha starts, closing her locker at the end of the day. “What do you think? Does it feel good to be a high schooler now or what?”
I shove my English book into my locker, messing up my neat stack of school supplies already.
“It’s not that bad,” I say with a half-smile. And really, the rest of the day wasn’t, thanks to Sam sitting with me at lunch. It brightened my whole mood, reminding me that I don’t have to conform like everyone else in order to have friends. Closing my locker, I swing my backpack up on one shoulder. “You really think you can get your lunch switched?”
Farisha nods. “All I have to do is tell Mom I was feeling a little shaky and she’ll freak out and insist I need to eat a whole thirty minutes earlier.”
“It’s nice to have your mom be the school nurse,” I say, though we joked that Mrs. Kapoor only got a job as the school nurse so she could keep an eye on Farisha’s diabetes. After one incident last year where her blood sugar dropped so low she fainted, Farisha’s mom has been way overbearing.
“Or I could have you moved to mine,” she tests, trying not to smile.
“How would that make sense?” I play dumb to her hidden question. “You’re trying to eat earlier because of low blood sugar.”
“I can make it work. You wouldn’t care, would you?” We start walking down the hall.
“No,” I say with a straight face, unable to look her in the eyes. “As long as we’re together.”
“Really? You’re sure you don’t want to give up being able to look at—”
“Sam!” I interrupt, seeing him turn down the hall. I elbow Farisha in a not-so-obvious move meant to shut her up. She knows about my massive crush on Sam Harris, though could you blame me?
He’s tall, somehow always tan, and muscular. The blue shirt he’s wearing matches his dark blue eyes, reminding me of the lake at night. They’re eyes you can drown in, and when I look at Sam, I’ll gladly let him pull me under. Pair them with his sharp jaw, full lips, and perpetually messy yet sexy dark hair, and it’s no secret why every girl in Silver Ridge has eyes for Sam.
“Chloe,” he says back, smiling. “How’d your first day go?”
“Cood,” I say and then close my eyes, willing my face not to flush.
“Cool and good?” Sam questions, smirk on his lips.
“Yeah.” I flick my eyes to him and then back to the floor. “I was going to say cool and then realized that’s not an answer to how my day was.”
Sam chuckles. “Are you headed home? I can drive you if you want.”
My mouth goes dry, and I look at Farisha. We were going to walk home together and I’m not blowing her off.
“Mom wants to drive me home today,” she says without missing a beat. “I’ve got to go hang out in the nurse’s office for a bit now. I’ll talk to you later,” she tells me, and I do my best to nonverbally thank
her. “Bye, Sam.”
“See ya,” he tells her, and as soon as she’s a few paces away, I get nervous. I’ve always been myself around Sam, but now that we’re in school together, I’m aware of everything. Of the way everyone looks at him. How well-liked he is by the students and the teachers. He’s an all-around good guy, even if he does go through girlfriends faster than I can binge read the Harry Potter series on a rainy weekend.
“I have to pick up Jacob and Mason,” he tells me as we walk out into the parking lot. It’s mid-August and still super hot outside. “So we have like twenty minutes to kill before going to the middle school. We can go by the lake.”
“Sure,” I say, ready to agree with just about anything Sam suggests. His birthday was only two weeks ago, and I know he rushed out and got his license as soon as possible. I’m not positive he’s supposed to be driving me, or even his siblings for that matter, but I’m sure as hell not going to question it.
I relax as soon as I’m in his Jeep. The top is off but when the door shuts, it’s like I’m shutting out school and I can be myself again. I tip my head up, feeling the wind in my hair as Sam speeds out of the school parking lot, heading to the lake Silver Ridge was built around. Neither of us talk as we get out, climbing down a rocky hill to the shore. We only have about seven minutes until we need to go and pick up Sam’s brothers, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
“So what was really going on today?” Sam asks as I take my shoes off and dip my feet in the water. There’s no way I’m making it back up past those rocks in these heels without breaking an ankle.
“Nothing.”
“Really?” He picks up a rock and throws it into the lake. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
“Fine,” I huff. “You know I was dating Derek over the summer, right?”
“Was? Did that asshole do something to you?”
I press my lips together. “If he did, I’d handle it.”
“I have no doubt you would,” Sam laughs.
I step deeper into the water, gathering the hem of my black dress up to my thighs. “He said I was too weird to be with,” I admit, shaking my head. “And I let his words get to me. Maybe I am too weird. Maybe I will be alone forever because I’d rather stay home and write fan fiction than go see Derek’s brother’s band play in Missy Spencer’s garage. It smells like soup in there. Always.”
Sam laughs and runs his hand through his hair. “It does. Tomato soup. I’ve been in there before watching said band. You didn’t miss anything.”
“Well, good.” I bend over to pick up a rock, not thinking that with my dress gathered up, I just flashed Sam my butt. At least I have cute undies on today.
“And Chloe,” Sam starts when I straighten up, looking at the smooth rock in my hands. “You’re not going to be alone forever. You are weird, but that’s what I like about you.”
My heart swells in my chest. “I hope you’re right about that.”
“Hey. I’ll make you a deal. If you’re still alone when you turn thirty—and if I am too—let’s run away to Vegas and get married.”
“Sure,” I agree with a giggle, knowing there’s no way Sam will still be single by the time he turns twenty, let alone thirty.
“I mean it!”
“Well, then we better start planning our wedding,” I tease. “I’m undatable.”
“Oh please,” he waves his hand in the air. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
My heart flutters again and hope bubbles up inside of me. Maybe I do have a chance with Sam. Maybe he looks at me the way I look at him and we—
“Shit,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“I was supposed to meet Tiffany after school. Fuck, she’s going to be pissed.” He shrugs. “I’ll just make it up to her later.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and laughs. My heart sinks, and I let the rock fall out of my hands, splashing into the water and washing away the little hope I had.
Sam’s just being nice. Saying things to make me feel better. But he’ll never see me the way I want him to. Who I am kidding? I’m Creepy Chloe, the weird girl who wears too much black, brings tarot cards to school, and wrote a fifty-five-page Harry Potter-meets-Charmed fanfic for her eighth-grade creative writing assignment.
And Sam is, well, Sam. Smart. Good-looking. Athletic. Normal.
As much as I want to believe fate will intervene and Sam and I could end up together, I know the only way it would happen is if everything falls apart and he has to resort to me—his backup plan.
Chapter Two
Chloe
Present day…
Spiraling.
It’s what’s happening to me…I think. And the fact that I’m not sure only proves just how fast I’m spiraling. Falling down at a dizzying rate. The world spins so fast I can’t make out anything around me. I’m a big fat fucking fake and it’s only a matter of time before they expose me, and what better way than to do it on live TV, broadcasted nationally to several million viewers.
Fuck.
What was the question? Sweat drips between my breasts, thankfully out of sight from the live audience’s prying eyes. I’m regretting turning down that pre-show glass of wine, going instead for some gross concoction of kale, green tea, and some nasty shit that was probably scraped out of a dirty fish tank with a fancy name slapped on it.
I swallow hard and force a smile, flicking my eyes from the show host to the audience.
“Fight like a girl,” I say, not recognizing my own voice leaving my lips. It’s not an answer to the question I was asked, I know, yet the audience erupts in cheers nonetheless when they hear the catchy tagline to my series. I take their enthusiasm in stride, stealing a few seconds to close my eyes and try and find my center—which I’ve never been able to fucking do, even after overpaying for private yoga session for the last five years.
“You’ve started a feminist movement,” Helen, the show host goes on, fanning the flames of my rabid fans. “Was that always your intention?”
My smile turns genuine, and I push myself back into the game. I’ve got this.
“Honestly,” I say slowly, leaning forward. It’s one little word, but three killer syllables. Because honesty and Hollywood aren’t things you say simultaneously. “I had these voices in my head that demanded I tell their stories. And it just transpired from there.”
The crowd breaks out into cheers again, and my heart swells in my chest, sucking it all in. The fame. The love from perfect strangers. Knowing my words have touched so many people. It’s surreal, even after all this time. I may have twenty novels under my belt, had my name appear on the New York Times bestseller list multiple times, have an insanely supportive fanbase, and a super popular paranormal romance series that got made into a TV series—and season one won two fucking Emmy awards—but I still feel like the same outcast I did the day I moved to LA.
A loner.
The weirdo.
Forever alone.
Too much for anyone to handle.
Surround me a thousand adoring fans, and all it does is remind me how alone I actually am. I’m a walking and talking cliché, I know. And I hate myself for it.
I made it.
Did the impossible.
And for that, yeah, I feel like the bad-fucking-ass my fanbase thinks I am. The nerd, the underdog, the girl everyone made fun of made it not only in the scary world of publishing but now is flourishing in Hollywood. I’ve dated actors. Gone out with producers. Partied with reality TV stars. Signed books all over the world and had my novels translated into more languages than I knew existed. I went from writing fan fiction to my own original stories, and those novels hit it big time with the paranormal and sci-fi loving crowd. My characters became a voice in the much overdue feminist movement, giving hope to those who’d otherwise been hopeless, as well as just providing an entertaining-as-fuck series for pretty much everyone to enjoy.
