Bright Before Sunrise by Tiffany Schmidt (Excerpt)

Tiffany Schmidt

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Brighton · · · 107

chest. Her dark curls are twisted into a careless knot and

anchored with a swizzle stick. The outfi t probably took her

ten seconds to throw together and makes me self- conscious

about the hour and a half it took me to get ready for school—

and the fact that I don’t, and never have, mea sured up to

Evy in interest factor.

“Yeah, thanks and all that. Want to help me unpack?”

she asks.

This will translate into me unpacking and or ga niz ing

while she sits on her bed and tells me stories about all her

college friends and college adventures. It’s our typical rou-

tine, and I’m about to agree when her eyes light up. “Or maybe

you have other plans. Who’s the guy? Hey, handsome.”

I look to see what she’s grinning at: Jonah’s standing in

the still- open doorway.

“Hi,” I say. It takes all of my effort to keep my feet planted

on the foyer’s Oriental carpet instead of fl eeing up the stairs.

Looking directly at him is out of the question; I aim my

gaze over his left shoulder at his car parked halfway down

the driveway.

“You forgot your cell.”

Jonah hands it over and is gone before I even manage,

“Oh, thanks.”

I stare at the back of our front door until Evy puts a

hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face her amused

grin. “Wait. Wait. Wait! I thought you were babysitting— who

was the guy? Did my little sister fi nally learn to lie to Mom?

I’m so proud. And, nice choice: he sizzles!”

“What? No. That’s the couple’s son.”

“And did you tuck him into bed and read him a story?”

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108 · · · BRIGHT BEFORE SUNRISE

She raises her eyebrows and pulls her lips into a scandal-

ized smirk.

“The older brother of the baby I was watching.” Why did

I inherit all of the insta- blush genes in our family? “It’s noth-

ing like that. He doesn’t like me at all. Wasn’t that obvious?”

She winks and nudges me with an elbow. “Sounds like

grade- school fl irting. Next he’ll be pulling your hair and

calling you dorkhead and cootie- face.”

“Ha. Not likely.” I grab one of her suitcases from the

foyer fl oor and trudge toward the stairs. “What do you have

in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Shoes.” There’s another knock on the door. “See, this is

when the hair pulling begins,” Evy says as she reaches

around me for the knob. “I knew he couldn’t resist my little

sister.”

She pulls the door open with a fl ourish so I’m face- to-

face with a scowl. I drop the suitcase, fl inching at its thud.

“Did I forget something else?”

“I locked my keys in the car.” His scowl deepens.

“Accidentally?” Evy asks, laughing.

His eyes drift past me and land on my sister. She’s

assumed an audience position, leaning against the green wall

of the hallway. I’m sure all he sees are her chest and long,

tanned legs crossed at the ankles.

“I wouldn’t have spent the past two minutes cursing at

the car door if it was on purpose.” But he says this with a

smile. She gets a smile. “I’m Jonah.”

“Evy. Smart idea not to curse in front of The Innocent. It

makes her so damn huffy.”

“It does not!”



They share a look like they’re on some exclusive team. I

hate feeling like an outsider.

“I’ll drive you home to get a spare key,” I offer.

“I’m blocking you in. My phone’s in the car; can I use

yours? I’ll call AAA and be out of here.”

“Sure,” I answer.

Evy points to the cell in my hand. “Genius, if you’d fi g-

ured it out sooner, you could’ve saved yourself a trip to return

hers.”

I hand it over with an apologetic look. “Don’t be mean. He

was probably busy worr—”

“Busy being a moron and locking my keys in the car.”

He fi shes a AAA card out of his wallet and turns to face the

door while he dials.

I stand watching until Evy hooks her fi ngers in the back

of my collar and drags me backward into the kitchen.

“Let go of me!” She does, and I stumble until my hip hits

the counter. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? What’s up with the Miss America act,

B?” She assumes a pose that’s straight up and down, feet at

a forty- fi ve- degree angle, fl uttering lashes, and head tilt.

“I did not stand like that!”

“You did! And you’re broadcasting puppy- dog affection

on every channel. Back off a bit, B, make him work for it.”

“I do not like Jonah Prentiss,” I hiss in a whisper. “And I

do not need guy advice.”

“Just listen,” she orders, and as usual I shut up. “Whether

or not you like this guy— someday there’s going to be a guy or

girl you do. The smile- and- nod routine you were doing back

there? That’s not going to get you anywhere with anyone



who’s worth your time. And for the record, I approve of this

guy— he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of porcelain like

your usual fan club. So drop the act, okay?”

She stands there, hands on hips, eyebrows arched, wait-

ing for my nod of agreement. I’m not going to give her the

satisfaction. She doesn’t get to waltz home and tell me what

a failure I am at dating and life in general.

She tilts her head toward me and clears her throat. Over

her shoulder, I can see Jonah approaching from the foyer. If

I don’t concede now, she’ll make me regret it.

“Fine,” I say, and she smiles triumphantly.

Jonah hands me my cell. “It’s going to be at least an hour.

They gave me some crappy excuse about how since I’m not

in any immediate danger or stranded, I’m not considered a

priority.”

“I’m sorry. That stinks.” An hour? I want him to go sit on

his car, or pace the driveway, or do anything but be in my

sight. I want away from how anxious he makes me and how

much he makes me second- guess.

Evy sits down at the kitchen table and uses her toe to

push the chair next to hers toward him.

“Of course you’re welcome to stay,” I add, but my own

invitation is a weak, awkward echo of hers.

“Thanks.” Jonah sits and scans the kitchen. Ours isn’t as

immaculate as his. There are fi ngerprints on the stainless-

steel surface of the fridge. Evy’s left a plate by the sink and

a soda can on the counter next to a stack of mail she’s gone

through and an open cata log she’s doodled on. All of this

will have to be cleaned up before the memorial tomorrow.

I look stupid and out of place standing, but don’t feel



invited to join them. Which is ridiculous. Evy is my sister,

Jonah is my babysitting charge’s older brother.

Who hates me.

But I can fi x this— I’ll use this hour to make him like me.

Once he does, I’ll get him to come volunteer on Sunday.

Then I’ll never have to think about him again.

Decision made. So, by Dad’s logic, I’m 80 percent closer

to him liking me than I was a second ago. Funny how I still

feel totally unwelcome in my own kitchen.

I keep standing, trying to make it look like I want to by

leaning against the marble countertop. Everything looks better

when you’re wearing a smile. I fl ash some teeth, trying to fi nd

a balance between the Miss America of Evy’s accusation and

the grimace I’d like to wear. “Can I get you anything, Jonah?

A drink?”

“No,” he says, then adds, “Sorry if I ruined your plans.”

This is addressed to Evy. Apparently my plans don’t matter.

“No worries. I’m in for the night. I was going to make tea

and wait for my boyfriend to call. Brighton’s about to walk

the dog. You can go with her.”

“Never? No.” If I had been sitting, I’d have bolted to my

feet in protest.

“Um, I’ll wait by my car if walking the dog is a private

task for you.” Jonah gives me a look of curious disdain.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

But my words are overpowered by Evy’s opening the

French doors to our back porch. She whistles and shouts,

“C’mere, boy! Where’s my baby?”

Nearly two hundred pounds of drool lumbers into the

kitchen. Jonah’s chair is forced back when Evy’s “baby”



pushes his way over to inspect him. Jonah tolerates the sniff-

ing and even scratches behind the demon dog’s ears. Saint

Bernard? I don’t think so.

“Who loves me? Never loves me. Good boy, Never. Such

a good boy,” Evy coos, and the dog turns his attention to her.

Jonah stands up to avoid being beaten by the dog’s tail, which

immediately overturns his chair.

“Never?” Jonah asks. “That’s some dog.”

“See, I wasn’t saying you couldn’t come—”

“Never: Not Eve’s Replacement. My mom got this big,

beautiful boy right before I left for college. Didn’t she, buddy?”

Evy scratches his chin, and he rewards her with a lick that

leaves visible slobber across her cheek. Gross.

“And he never listens to anyone but her, so it’s appropri-

ate.” I scowl— not that either of them notices. They’re too

busy lavishing affection on the beast, who has a habit of

chewing up my shoes and jumping on me when I sit on the

couch so I can’t get up until he decides to move or some-

one bribes him with a cookie. “I’m not walking him. I can’t.

He was just in the backyard, I’m sure he’s fi ne.”

As soon as the word “walk” leaves my lips, Never bounds

over, jumps up, and knocks me down. Then he proceeds to

lick my face.

“Get him off me,” I beg, but Jonah and Evy are too busy

laughing.

When I’m near tears, Jonah does, by holding up a leash

Evy must’ve given him. He manages to get Never to sit while

he fastens it. I hate the dog and she knows it. The thing

weighs nearly as much as the two of us combined, but he lis-

tens to her.



“I can’t walk him,” I repeat. I put my headband on the

counter and pull my hair into a ponytail so I can splash my

face with water from the kitchen sink and remove the drool.

All my makeup comes off along with it. My fi rst instinct is

to run upstairs and fi x it, but Jonah will hate me with or

without mascara and sandstone eye shadow.

“Don’t be a baby. He needs a walk—” Her cell rings. “And

look, there’s Topher, so I can’t do it. Have fun. I’ll listen for

the AAA guys.” Evy zips out of the room, cell phone to her

ear, cooing to her boyfriend in a tone similar to the one she

used for the dog.

“I can’t,” I say to Jonah.

“He’s just a dog. You’re the own er. Tell him what to do

and he’ll do it.”

Like it’s that easy.

Never hasn’t listened to a command from me since he

was actually lap sized. The woman at obedience school kept

correcting Mom and Evy, telling them to speak softer— that

my normal- volume instructions wouldn’t be effective if Never

got used to obeying commands at a yell. But they didn’t listen

and she was right. By the time he was knee height, all the

cookies, cheese, and peanut butter in the world couldn’t con-

vince him to sit or stay for me.

Jonah holds the leash out, but I just shake my head.

“Fine. I’ll walk him then. What’s a good loop so I don’t

get lost? Everything in this town looks the same.”

He’s wrong— of course— not only do things not look the

same, but all the streets in Cross Pointe are laid out in a grid.

I don’t understand how it would be possible to get lost. I open

my mouth to give him a route, then change my mind.


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Bright Before Sunrise by Tiffany Schmidt (Excerpt)