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The first thing Feyre Archeron noticed about the small town of Velaris is that everyone kept smiling and trying to open doors for her. It was… unsettling, considering back home in Massachusetts, she’d be lucky if she could drive five miles without someone flipping her off. She had been in town for less than twenty minutes and four different women had smiled and waved, and two separate men had opened the door for her on her way in and out of the coffee shop. And that was the other thing…

no Dunkin Donuts.

How did these southerners live? The town itself was charming, its main street looking like it didn’t know the 1950s had come and gone. She had already begun thinking about how she would love to sit on the green and paint; the women chatting on a park bench wearing vibrantly colored sundresses, the flowers planted neatly around the gazebo, and maybe that was how she would spend the entire summer - painting the sleepy little town.

She tugged uncomfortably at the front of her tank top, groaning at the already unbearable June heat, and cursing both the South and her father. Why she had agreed with her father’s idea to send her to Velaris, Alabama for the summer was beyond her. Her older sisters, Nesta and Elain were back home, playing tennis at the club, and she was

here.

Velaris, population 3000.

But, she reminded herself, at least in Velaris, she didn’t have to see

him.

Tamlin. Her former high school sweetheart and ex-boyfriend. They had started dating their freshman year at Prythian Academy, a prestigious college preparatory school four hours from her hometown. And while Prythian was in upstate New Hampshire, Tamlin was conveniently from the same Boston suburb as her, their families’ went to the same country club. She was scared to be away from home, but they had a highly respected arts program, and she knew if she wanted to get into Columbia’s fine arts program, she had to have the best, and her parents knew that. Tam was the golden boy. Played soccer and lacrosse, captain of the debate team,

everything.

All the girls at school were jealous of her, and with good reason. Hell, she would have been jealous of herself. And, up until their senior year, their relationship had been, well, perfect. She had it all;  perfect boyfriend, credit card with seemingly unlimited funds, and a shot at an Ivy League school.

But the summer before her senior year, her mom died. Car accident, she died on impact the doctor had told them as she held a weeping Elain in her arms. It didn’t matter that Elain was two years her senior, Feyre was the strong one, always had been. Feyre was the one who had to make sure that their family made it out in one piece. Her dad grieved in his own way, with a bottle of whiskey in his study. Elain spent more time outside in the garden, planting hydrangeas - mom’s favorite. And Nesta… Nesta spent her days at the club, playing tennis and drinking vodka with her socialite friends who were in from New York. And Feyre… she painted. Painted and called Tamlin… Tamlin who never answered her calls because he was too busy in New York, rubbing elbows with important businessmen at his fancy internship, in hopes of “making connections” he told her, and having his pick of the Ivies. Feyre understood, she really did. But, she was so…

alone.

That summer only got worse. Her family’s finances were in dismal shape, with their mom gone, they were spending more and bringing in less. But since Feyre was Feyre, she agreed, “Yes Dad,” when he asked if it would be okay to cut off her AmEx, because God forbid he shut off Nesta and Elain, who were running up massive bills at the club. And she had said “Sure, Dad,” when he asked her if she would apply for financial aid at school.

She had hoped that going back to school would have made things better, but they only got worse. Worse because her dad was struggling to hold onto their house, worse because Tamlin was drifting away from her. He would blow off plans, ignore her texts, and then blame her for the way their relationship was going. So, a few months before graduation, she broke it off. Officially. And suddenly, she was alone. For real. Which maybe was why she hadn’t put up a fight when her dad suggested she go to Velaris before she left for Columbia in the fall. That was the only thing that had gone right for her when her life started to fall apart -

Columbia.

“Feyre?” a voice asked, touching her shoulder from behind. The Alabama accent was thick, even on just the one word.

“Mor?” She grinned, spinning around to face her cousin. Mor was Feyre’s cousin on her mom’s side. Mor’s mom was Feyre’s mom’s only sister, and Feyre hadn’t seen either of them since the funeral.

“How are you?” Mor squealed, pulling her cousin into a vice grip hug. Feyre hugged her back, before gasping out that Mor should let her go before she choked.

“Fine, fine,” she said smiling, wondering how this southern ball of sunshine could possibly be related to her. Mor was shorter than Feyre, with golden blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and a tan that Feyre would kill for. Not to mention the perpetual smile plastered on her face. Feyre had never met anyone who smiled so much.

“C’mon, Mama and Daddy are dying to see you,” she said, dragging Feyre towards a sleek BMW. It wasn’t the Range Rover her mother had given her for her 16th birthday, but it was a nice car. A

very

nice car. Mor slid smoothly into the driver’s side, and Feyre noted with a smile, didn’t try to open her door for her.

Mor’s family’s estate was, for lack of a better word, enormous. When Mor parked under the carport, Feyre remembered fondly the summer she and her mother had visited while the house was being built, and how her Aunt Sadie had spent hours on the phone with contractors to ensure that it was just right. The main house itself was huge: three stories with white Greek style columns. The grounds too, were extensive, with lush green grass and a small pond. It was like she had stepped out of the pages of

Gone With the Wind,

if it weren’t for her outfit. She was dressed comfortably; it had been a long plane ride, followed by a long bus ride, and then a quick taxi before she got to Velaris, so she was in running shorts and a cotton tank top. Taking in Mor’s yellow sundress against the backdrop of the mansion, she felt underdressed, and ridiculously like a fish out of water.

Feyre was

used

to rich people. She went to boarding school, her family belonged to a country club, and up until last summer, she might have even considered her family fairly wealthy.  But judging by the opulent foyer of Mor’s house, she knew that these people were from an entirely different universe. She couldn’t believe that her mom

grew up

in a place like this.

Back when Feyre was a kid, her Aunt Sadie would come up to Massachusetts with Mor in tow for a few days around Christmas time so that the girls could see each other. Feyre used to listen with rapt attention to her Aunt’s lilting southern accent, as she recounted the days when Feyre’s mom was a perfect southern belle. Even then Feyre found it hard to imagine her mom, who was constantly talking into her bluetooth, and wearing perfectly pressed suits saying “bless your heart” or drinking sweet tea on the porch while men came calling. But, instead of marrying some rich southern gentleman like her parent’s expected her to, Feyre mom had run off to school in Boston and become a successful business woman. She had even lost her accent.

She heard her Aunt Sadie’s voice calling her name as the woman came striding into the foyer. She was wearing a lilac dress, and finishing putting in her pearl earrings. “You girls are just in time! You have half an hour to get ready for the party at the Montgomerys’.”

“Half an hour?” Mor balked, staring at her mother incredulously, already beginning to drag Feyre towards the stairs.

“A party?” Feyre hissed into Mor’s ear, her suitcase bumping against every stair on their way to Mor’s bedroom. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I

forgot

,” Mor defended, flinging her door open, and heading right towards her closet. Feyre sat nervously on the bed, watching with fascination as her cousin tore through her closet. “Got it,” she said a few moments later, holding up a green dress, the color of the meadows outside Mor’s bedroom window.

“Put this on,” she said to Feyre, handing her the garment and then pulling a simple white dress out of her closet.

“Mor… I have clothes… and I’m a hell of a lot taller than you,” she said looking at the dress in her hand which was sure to be obscenely short.

“Feyre, just trust me and put it on,” Mor said with her back to the taller girl, already zipping up her own dress.

The dress was short, falling to her mid thigh, but manageably so. She watched Mor’s beauty routine, opting just for a few strokes of mascara over her eyelashes, and a swipe of lipstick at Mor’s insistence. Her cousin had been less than pleased at her makeup routine, but due to their time constraints, Mor had just rolled her eyes and turned back towards the mirror.

“Girls we’re leaving!” Mor’s mom yelled up the stairs.

“We’ll see you there,” Mor called back. Feyre glanced at the delicate watch on her left wrist, opposite the diamond tennis bracelet her mom had given her for her 17th birthday. It was 7:00 pm, meaning she had been in Velaris for less than three hours, and she was already all dressed up for a party with a bunch of strangers.

“Geez Mor, are you almost ready?” Feyre teased, leaning back on the pillows of Mor’s four poster bed.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” Mor said, checking her already perfect curls in the mirror one last time, and slipping into her Jack Rogers sandals.
“So what should I expect from tonight?” Feyre asked hesitantly, worried about being thrown into a party full of people she didn’t know, in a town she had only been in for a few hours.
“Well you’ll meet all of my friends, Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren,” Mor paused before continuing, “but I’d steer mostly clear of Amren if I were you she’s… a lot to handle,” Mor told her delicately. Feyre nodded, not questioning her cousin on what she meant by that. The girls descended the long central staircase of the house, and Mor lead her out the front door.“We’re not walking are we?” Feyre asked, a hint of disgust creeping into her voice at the thought of walking any distance in the oppressive Alabama heat. Her dress already felt heavy.
“It’s not far,” Mor promised, dragged Feyre down the long winding driveway. “Besides, if we end up getting drunk, it’ll be easier not to have to leave my car somewhere.”
As they walked down the sleepy street that Mor’s family’s estate was set off of, Mor filled Feyre in on things she should and shouldn’t say, “

Don’t

mention Auburn to the boys, they’re all raging Alabama fans, actually, just don’t mention football to them - trust me, you don’t want to deal with that. Cassian will try to flirt with you, but he’s harmless.” Feyre just nodded along, wondering what she had gotten herself into when she agreed to spend the two and half months of her summer in Velaris. She already missed Massachusetts.

Mor led her down the driveway of an estate that was larger than her aunt and uncles’. “So, who lives here?” Feyre asked, taking in the perfect landscaping as they walked around to the back of the house. There were probably a hundred people dressed in vibrant colors and seersucker, milling about in a beautiful garden. A four piece quartet was set up at the other end, and wait staff dressed in all black passed hors d'oeuvres.

“It’s Rhys’ family’s estate,” Mor whispered to her, greeting a few adults, and introducing Feyre as her cousin from “up North.” Feyre plastered on a smile, enduring what felt like hours of repetitive small talk, and adults wrinkling their noses slightly when Feyre told them she was from Massachusetts. ‘I didn’t know the Haywood’s had

yankee

relatives’ most of them would say, and then they would all fake laugh before moving on. It was exhausting, and quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how her cousin was still up beat and cheery.

“I need a

drink

,” Feyre announced to her cousin, snagging something off of a waiter’s tray as he passed. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she was starving, and sick of talking to people.
“There are a few more people you need to meet first…” Mor trailed off, as a hulking boy with long dark hair came barreling towards them, and lifted Mor off her feet. Mor yelped as the most beautiful man Feyre has ever seen spoke.
“Cassian please, remember your manners,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. He had hair like midnight, violet eyes that danced with amusement, and carried himself with more easy grace than Feyre had ever seen. Following behind him was a petite girl with short dark hair, and dripping with jewelry; and another tall muscular boy with shorter dark hair.
When Cassian has released Mor, she introduced them. “Everyone, this is my cousin Feyre from Massachusetts. Feyre, this is Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Azriel.” Azriel simply waved; Cassian asked if it hurt when she fell from heaven, with a wink; and Amren sized her up in a way that made her just a little nervous.  It was Rhysand, aka, “the most beautiful man she had ever seen,” who came up to her, taking her hand in his, and actually

kissing

it.

“Please, call me Rhys,” he said, giving her a charming smile. “I  didn’t know Morrigan had a beautiful yankee cousin,” he said, shooting a look at Mor, his perfectly drawling accent making her melt. He was even more devastatingly handsome up close. “In any case, it’s wonderful to meet you, would you like anything?” he asked her, slipping into the role of perfect southern gentleman.

“Actually, I would kill for a drink,” she said with a laugh as he took her arm.

“As you wish, my lady,” he said with a grin, leading her towards a bar. She got a chance to fling a “who the fuck is this guy?” look at Mor, who just grinned at her. Feyre already felt like she was in over her head with Rhys, who was tall and tan and gorgeous, and smelled really fucking good. She hadn’t been remotely into a guy since she had broken up with Tam in March. This summer might shape up to be a little more than she was bargaining for.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Vodka cranberry please,” she told the bartender. Rhys smiled a little, ordering a bourbon and coke, before taking a moment to take her in. Her hair was long and a rich golden brown color, falling in loose waves around her face. Her eyes were a piercing blueish gray, that made it seem like she could see right into his soul. She was lightly tanned, freckles smattered across her nose. In a word, she was breathtaking, and quite unlike anything or anyone he had ever seen.

“What are you staring at?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, her drink inches from her lips. He knew there was no point in lying, not when he had a feeling she already knew.

“You. You’re absolutely stunning,” he told her simply, and was pleased to find a blush coloring her cheeks.
“And you are a shameless flirt,” she said, taking a long drink. He did the same, not able to contain his grin.
“So, Feyre, what bring you to Velaris?” he asked curiously, as the two set off the find Mor and the rest of his friends. She raised an eyebrow before he continued, “We don’t get too many visitors around here, and certainly not gorgeous ones from Massachusetts,” he told her.
“My mom was Mor’s mom’s sister. They both grew up here.” She told him, her eyes growing a little distant.

“Sadie’s sister…” Rhys’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember what Mor had told him about her family, before it clicked, “But Mor’s aunt died..”

“In a car accident,” Feyre finished for him, taking another sip of her drink. “Yeah, last summer.” She shook her head a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, remembering Mor’s red rimmed eyes when she had told him what happened. They had all been hanging out at Rhys’s house that night in early August. It was a Wednesday night, and they were sitting around on the floor in Rhys’s room drinking and playing Cards Against Humanity. Mor’s mom had called her and she went into the hallway to answer it. When she came back in it was clear she had been crying. When they asked her what was wrong she just shook her head, choking out that she needed to go home, before practically bolting out of the room.

Rhys had been the one to follow her, stopping her in the foyer. It was there that she told him what had happened, that her mother’s sister had died, that she and her mom had to go  out of town to help make funeral arrangements. He held her while she cried, and then walked her down the street to her house. Mor was like family to him, like the sister he never had.

“It’s okay,” she told him with a sad smile, “But anyways, that coupled with a few other personal things going on back in Massachusetts, my dad decided Velaris would be a good place for me before I went off to school in the fall.” He didn’t push her on the “personal things” issue, they were practically strangers after all.

“Where are you going to school?” he asked instead, steering the conversation into something a little safer.
“Columbia to study visual arts with a concentration in painting,” she told him, her eyes bright. It was clear she was passionate about it.
“You paint?” he asked with a smile, and she simply nodded, another blush creeping into her cheeks.
“Where are you headed?” She asked as they spotted Mor and company a little ways outside the garden where most of the adults sat or stood chatting.
“Emory, I’m going for political science, in their pre-law program.” She nodded. Rhys wasn’t sure law school was necessarily what

he

wanted, but it was certainly what his father wanted. Everyone in his family went to law school, for as far back as he could remember. He knew his father expected him to become a lawyer, and then become mayor of Velaris, and eventually Governor of Alabama, just like he had.

“You went to the bar and didn’t get me anything?” Mor scowled at her cousin and best friend, swiping the drink out of Rhys’s hand and taking a drink.

“Hey!” He shouted, snatching it back, watching as Feyre deposited herself gracefully onto the grass where the rest of their friends sat. Rhys and Mor followed suit.

“So what’s the move for tonight?” Cassian asked, leaning against the truck of a tree, and running a hand through his long dark hair.

“Varian said his parents are out of town, he’s throwing a party at his house.” Amren offered, grinning mischievously. Varien was Amren’s ‘were they weren’t they’ boyfriend that no one could figure out. He lived in Adriata, the town bordering Velaris.

“You just wanna get laid,” Mor said, flopping down onto her back, watching the sun begin to set. It was nearly 8:00 pm.

“Well

I

want to get drunk,” Cassian cut in, “lets go.” Amren rolled her eyes, looking at Rhys. It wasn’t that he was in charge of his friends, but he definitely took on the leadership role nearly all the time.
“Text Varian and ask if he minds that all of us are coming. Also ask if he minds the rest of us crash in a spare bedroom, I’m not risking anyone driving home drunk.” He told her, before looking around at the rest of the circle, “as for the rest of y’all, if your parents asked, you all crashed here last night.” They all nodded.Amren popped her head up from her furious texting.
“Varian says you are all welcome, yes you can all stay in the spare bedroom, and said to invite whoever else you want.” she rolled her eyes at that. He was certain Amren was less than pleased at the thought of having to spend what could have been a night alone with her man with what will end up being dozens of drunk teens, who will all probably end up falling asleep in Varian’s living room.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Meet at Mor’s in half an hour?” Rhys said to the group of them standing in his driveway. They had spent another half an hour at the cocktail party, before Rhys told them it was time to put their carefully thought out plan into action. Feyre was just buzzed enough from her 2 vodka cranberries that she was actually… giddy. She hadn’t had a group of friends at Prythian outside of Tamlin and his best friend Lucien, and rarely got invited to the parties that everyone else went to.
“C’mon, Feyre,” Mor nudged her cousin as Amren climbed into her car, which was comically large compared to the girl driving it. Cassian and Azriel were both on foot, walking in the opposite of Mor and Feyre. The girl’s departed with a wave to Rhys, giggling as they ironed out plans of what to wear, and Mor chatted about all the people she expected to be there.
“So, you and Rhysand?” Mor asked, wiggling her eyebrows and she unlocked the front door of her house. Her parents were still at Rhys’s house, and wouldn’t be home for hours.

“What do you mean?” Feyre asked, fighting the blush that was trying to creep into her face.
“He is into you,” Mor said matter of factly as they ascended the stairs, and went straight for Mor’s closet.
“He is not into me,” Feyre insisted, “he was just being polite, and a good host.” But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. She had felt something between her and Rhys, but it might have just been her own raging attraction towards the boy.
“Trust me, that’s not it,” Mor said, “Rhys is my best friend, and I can read him like a book. And I saw the way you were looking at him.” Feyre shook her head, determined not to get caught up in something as complicated as feelings, especially for a boy she was sure to never see again once she left Velaris in August.

She instead focused on picking out an outfit for the party. She decided on a light wash button front denim skirt (hers), and a baby blue crop top (Mor’s), that left a fair amount of her midriff exposed. “You look

incredible,

” Mor told her, when she finished dressing. Mor’s outfit was a little more daring than anything Feyre had ever seen her cousin in, with a low cut red bodysuit, and a black miniskirt.

“I could say the same to you,” Feyre said grinning, throwing pyjamas into a canvas bag. Mor dug around her room, pulling out half a handle of vodka, an unopened bottle of wine, and four cans of twisted tea.

“That’s all of my stash I’m willing to fork over for tonight,” Mor said, expertly packing the bottles into her backpack so that they wouldn’t clink together when she walked.

“Alright, we should go wait for everyone else,” Mor said as Feyre finished putting on eyeliner.

______________________________________________________________________________

Adriata was a cute town, slightly larger than Velaris, though Amren drove too fast for Feyre to really appreciate it. She was squished in the backseat between Azriel and Rhys, with Cassian sitting shotgun, and Mor grumbling about being relegated to the way back, having to duck her head every time they drove past a cop.
Rhys was taking advantage of the close quarters to whisper tidbits of information about landmarks in her ear. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, her brain usually too focused on his hot breath on her neck, and his voice that was thick and lilting, and she would have listened to him read the dictionary.
She was jostled out of her Rhysand induced daydream by Amren pulling to a screeching halt in front of a massive house. It was starkly different from Mor and Rhys’s sprawling former plantation homes, however. It looked more like the large colonial houses she was used to at home, and that was… an anchor, in the middle of a flower bed? The exterior of the house looked like it should belong to people who spent every weekend sailing, and not in a town hours from the coast.
“Let’s get going!” Cassian whooped, practically leaping out of the car. Azriel released Mor from the trunk, and they gathered their alcohol from where Mor had been sitting. Amren had basically bolted as soon as she removed her keys from the ignition, no doubt to go find her boyfriend. The rest of them followed towards the front door, already able to hear the shouts of the drunk kids inside. Varian’s house was on the outskirts of the small town, his nearest neighbors were separated by a thick grouping of trees on either side, so no one was worried about the cops showing, it seemed.

Feyre had only been to one house party in high school, it was the summer before her junior year, and Tamlin had been invited, and insisted she come along. At the time she wasn’t much of a drinker, and she didn’t know practically anyone there. It was mostly the kids she would have gone to high school with, had her parents not shipped her off to school in northern New Hampshire. Tamlin had stayed in touch with all of them, though, because he was Tamlin and that’s what he did -- he needed to make sure none of his ‘connections’ slipped away. No one at the party could believe that she and Tamlin were

actually

together, and she had felt painfully uncomfortable while girls she hadn’t spoken to in years tried to pry every detail of her relationship out of her.

Varian’s living room was littered with kids drinking out of solo cups, and a gorgeous boy on the couch shouting at guests that, “for the last, if you want to smoke, please do it

outside

!” When she recognized the girl wrapped around him as Amren, she realized he must be Varian. He stood when he noticed them, extracting himself gracefully from Amren, and bounding over to their group.
“Hey! Glad you guys could make it,” he said, pulling Rhys in for one of those handshake/back thump combo hugs that all boys seemed to do. “There’s a keg in the kitchen, and cups for the beer or if you brought your own stuff,” he said grinning, Amren looking incredibly annoyed that they had stolen her boyfriend from her.
“Varian, this is my cousin, Feyre,” Mor said, motioning towards her cousin who stood to the left of Rhys.
“It’s good to meet you,” Varian said, his voice genuine as he reached out to shake her hand. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue she had ever seen, his dress shirt the color of sea foam. “Well, you guys enjoy the party,” he told them with a lopsided grin, making his way back towards Amren.
“To the kitchen?” Cassian suggested, not looking to see if anyone was following. Based on how Cassian had known exactly where the kitchen was, she figured this wasn’t the first time they had been to a party at Varian’s house.
“How did you guys meet Varian?” She asked Rhys as he filled two cups at the keg for them.
“Sophomore year we came to a party here, his cousin went to the same high school as us, and told us about a party Varian was throwing here,” he laughs softly at the memory, handing the red plastic cup to her. “Getting here was a nightmare, we had to

beg

Az’s older brother to drive us. He was a senior, and we paid him like 20 bucks

each

so that he would drop us off and then come pick us back up,” he shook his head. “But we thought we were so cool going to a real party. That’s when he and Amren got together, and they’ve been pretty much on and off ever since, and we’ve been coming to parties at his house ever since.” She nodded, taking a deep drink from her cup. She didn’t love beer, but it worked.

“Feyre! Come take a shot with me!” Mor yelled from across the kitchen, pouring poorly measured shots of cheap vodka into solo cups. She shook her head, dragging Rhys towards them.

A couple hours later she was well past tipsy, playing beer pong with Rhys, Mor and Azriel in Varian’s basement. Cassian had disappeared about an hour ago with a busty blonde girl who Rhys whispered had gone to high school with them. As for the state of the pong game, she was doing

terribly.

Rhys and Azriel had tried to talk the girls into splitting up, since apparently both of them sucked at the game, but they had held onto each other, sticking their tongues out at the boys.
She watched as Rhys landed a ball perfectly in the last cup, and she raised it in salute before drinking it in one gulp. As they were finishing their game, a girl came up to Mor squealing, pulling the blonde into a hug. Feyre didn’t notice Rhys come up behind her, didn’t even realize he wasn’t across the table until he murmured in her ear.
“C’mon, you could use some fresh air, and maybe a glass of water.” She couldn’t argue with that, so she let the dark haired boy lead her up the stairs, focusing extra hard on walking straight, and not stumbling up the steps. After a stop in the kitchen to fill a fresh cup with water, he led her into Varian’s backyard. She had left her shoes somewhere inside, and was enjoying the feeling of the damp grass between her toes.
They walked in companionable silence for a while before Rhys said, “you are absolutely

awful

, at beer pong. “

“I’m

drunk

,” she defended, taking a sip of her water. She risked a glance at him, idly wondering if the flush that rose to her cheeks was from the alcohol or from the thoughts of Rhys floating around her brain.

“What?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face when he caught her staring.
“Nothing. You’re just really pretty.” She blurted out. Fuck. “You’re really pretty” ?? Seriously, that was the best her drunk brain could come up with? Thankfully he laughed, the sound setting her at ease.
“Well, for the record, you’re really pretty too,” he told her, taking a sip of the beer in his hand. “Sit, he told her, motioning to a spot a little ways away from the house, just far enough that the blasting music wasn’t making her eardrums ring. She plopped herself down, not minding that the ground was soaking her skirt. He sat next to her, leaning back to stare at the stars. She caught herself staring at him instead.“Do you ever wish on the stars?” he asked her, a hint of seriousness in his voice. At that she too tilted her head back, starting at the stars that shined brighter here in the middle of nowhere Alabama than they did back home in Massachusetts.
“I haven’t since I was a kid,” she told him honestly.
“Make a wish,” he told her, turning to face her. She looked at him, a hint of confusion in her eyes. She was too drunk to be talking about the stars, when it was all she could do to look at his eyes and not his lips when he spoke.

“What?” she asked, and he just smiled at her, before lying back on the grass to look fully at the stars. She followed suit.

“When I was a kid, when we would watch meteor storms, my mom would tell me that the stars are listening; that I should whisper my dreams to them, and they would be answered,” Rhys told her, his eyes trained on the sky. “So, make a wish.”

She smiled, and since it seemed to mean so much to Rhys, she picked out a star, and closed her eyes. She wished for this summer to help her forget all the terrible things waiting for her back home, if only for a little while; and she wished to be truly

happy,

something she hadn’t felt in nearly a year. She knew it was a tall order for her star, but she felt like he could probably handle it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Fey-ruhhh! Fey-ruhh!” He heard her name being shouted across the lawn, from where he and Feyre were still sprawled out on the grass. He wasn’t sure how long they were lying there, arms pressed against one another's, but not touching any more than that. They had both gotten lost in the stars, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this content.
“We’re over here!” Feyre called out, a giggle escaping her lips. She glanced at Rhys, and even in the dark her eyes were bright and her smile was infectious.
“There you two are!” Mor shouted, stumbling towards the pair. “I been lookin’ errywhere for you,” she said, plopping down next to them. She appeared much more drunk than when the pair had left her.
“Where are Cassian and Azriel?” Rhys asked, sitting up as Azriel appeared, several moments after Mor. “Hey Az,” he said, peering up at the dark haired boy. Azriel didn’t respond, however, simply scooping Mor up like she was a rag doll.
“It’s time for bed,” he said simply, giving Rhys and Feyre a pointed look, Mor complaining all the while that she was “perfectly capable of walking thank you very much!” Rhys dug his phone out of his pocket. 1:56 am. Bedtime is right. It was a Saturday, and they all were expected at church tomorrow at 10:00.
“C’mon, Feyre,” he said, pulling the brunette into a sitting position. He had spent most of the evening stealing glances at her, but here under the moon and starlight, he would have sworn on his life that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He shook his head to clear away the thoughts of how soft he imagined her legs would be underneath his fingertips, or the way her back would arch when he touched her-- Right. Mind out of the gutter. He stood, extending a hand to Feyre who was still seated in the grass, looking drunk and incredibly sleepy.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, and following Az and Mor into the house.
________________________
“Feyre wake up,” A voice thick with sleep called to her, shaking her shoulder gently. She groaned in response, turning away from the insistent voice. “Feyre, we gotta go,” it continued, and she opened one eye. Rhys standing over her -- shirtless she released with a squeak, sitting up a little in the twin bed that was not her own.
“What time is it?” she groaned, rubbing her temples. She forgot how badly her hangovers tended to hit, and right now her head was pounding.
“7:45, we gotta hit the road,” he told her, slipping his button down on. She was grateful to see she was still fully dressed - at least she hadn’t done anything too stupid last night. She gave him a look that she was sure would have turned other men to stone.
“You woke me at at 7:45 in the morning on a Sunday?” She asked incredulously. Rhys looked sheepish before nodding.
“We uh, have to go to church,” he told her, “it’ll be a shitstorm if me and Mor and everyone aren’t there. And you too now, I guess.” She groaned.
“I don’t… I don’t really go to church,” she told him honestly. “I was raised Catholic, but I haven’t been to mass since like ninth grade.”
“Well everyone and their brother in Velaris is Baptist, so try not to mention your Catholic upbringing to them” he said laughing, tugging on her arm. “C’mon, up, out of bed.” She just groaned at that, swinging her legs around the side of the twin bed. From the looks of it, Rhys had slept on the floor, ever the gentleman.
“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” she complained, only half joking as she combed her hair with her fingers. “Where are my shoes? And where is everyone else?”
“Excellent questions,” he said with a laugh, leading her out of the small guest bedroom. They found Mor and Azriel crashed on couches in the living room. They shook them awake before continuing on their search. They found Feyre’s Sperry’s in the basement, and after knocking on several doors, they found Cassian, in bed with the blonde he snuck away with earlier.
“Cassian, we’ve got to go,” Rhys called to his best friend. Cassian groaned, squinting at his watch before nodding.
“Go find Amren, I’ll meet you in the living room,” he said, gesturing to the pile of his clothes on the floor. Amren they found in bed with Varian, who they expertly woke first.
“I’ll get her up,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “Help yourselves to oatmeal or cereal or whatever, we’ll be down in a few.
Seated at Varian’s kitchen table at 8:19, Feyre stared at the bowl of oatmeal Rhys and made and then set in front of her.
“You need to eat something,” he reminded her as Mor bit into a banana. She swirled the spoon around the thick breakfast food, her stomach rolling.
“Do you want me to throw up in Amren’s car?” she challenged.
“You’d better not,” a sharp voice around the corner called. Following the voice was a surprisingly well put together Amren. She had changed. And combed her hair. And put on makeup. “Let’s get going,” she said simply, giving Varian a quick kiss, and whispering “call me.”
Feyre was happy to leave the oatmeal in the sink, following the rest of her friends, and settling into the middle seat between Rhys and Azriel again. It took her all of five minutes to fall asleep with her head on Rhys’s shoulder.
After what felt like only a few seconds, but was really more like twenty minutes, someone was shaking her awake again for the second time that morning. As her eyes adjusted to the bright morning sun, she realized they were parked on the street between Rhys’s home and Mor’s. She peeked at her phone as they got out of the car, and let Mor out of the trunk. 8:45, which meant she had very little time to make herself not look hungover before being judged by the entire town of Velaris. Suddenly, she was tugging on Mor’s arm, leading her towards the family’s property.
“See you guys soon!” Mor whisper shouted, following her cousin up the long driveway to the house. “We’ve gotta be sneaky,” Mor told her, “follow my lead.” So she followed Mor up to their rooms using a rickety back staircase she had never seen before, that led to a panel in the back of Mor’s room that could be opened.
“Weird,” Feyre muttered, slipping out of Mor’s room and into her own directly next door.
At quarter to ten, she was showered, dressed in a navy shift dress, and trying to cover the bags under her eyes with concealer. There was a quick knock on her door before her Aunt Sadie’s head appeared around it.
“Ready to go?” She asked her niece who slipped into a pair of leather sandals, and tucked her cell phone into her pocket. Feyre nodded. “Morrigan!” Her aunt called, knocking on Mor’s door as well.
“Ready mom, geez. And please, stop calling me Morrigan,” Mor groaned, shooting Feyre daggers as her cousin snickered.
The girls piled into the backseat of the family’s Lexus, Feyre’s legs sticking uncomfortably to the black leather seats. She shot a glance at Mor, who didn’t look at all like she had gone shot for shot with a football player from a town over the night before.
They pulled up to the small white church ten minutes before the service was set to start. Feyre stuck close to Mor, who waved and chatted with various friends, relatives, and neighbors on her way inside. Feyre was relieved to see Cassian, Az and Rhys sitting in the back of the room without their parents. Feyre and Mor slipped into the pew next to them, Feyre sandwiched tightly between Rhys and Mor.
“How you feeling?” he whispered, leaning down so his lips were inches from her ear. She swallowed hard before responding, her heart racing at his proximity.
“Awful,” she told him honestly, tugging her phone out of her dress pocket to check for texts from either of her sisters or her dad, but nothing. "My head is pounding," she offered, peeking up at him. He laughed softly, tugging her phone out of her hands. “What are you doing?” she whispered, trying to ignore Mor who was not so subtly watching them.
“Giving you my number,” he told her, before passing the iPhone back into her hands. He had filled in his contact name as “Rhysand” with a shooting star emoji following his name. She shook her head, trying to hold back the smile that was breaking across her face. She had to get ahold of her emotions before they got ahead of her. She had learned the hard way that boys are dangerous, and couldn’t always be trusted.
“Who said I wanted your number?” she asked, teasing. He just smirked down at her.
“Text me, ok, Feyre darling?” She felt the heat rising into her cheeks at the nickname. But luckily, she was rescued from having to think of something to say, as the pastor started the service at that moment, and none of them wanted to be chewed out by their parents or the adults sitting around them. So instead she sat and thought about the raven haired boy next to her, who had just called her “darling” as if they had known each other for years, who had told her in earnest last night to wish on the stars, and she wondered not for the first time since she arrived in Velaris less than 24 hours ago, what she had gotten herself into.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So, why wasn’t Amren here?” Feyre asked, noting the absence of their small angry friend during the service.

Ah, she doesn’t really do the whole church thing,” Rhys said, looping his arm around hers. “Her parents are sort of the ‘choose your own path’ type so Amren stopped coming to church in middle school.” She nodded, trying to ignore the questioning glances she got from the group of pretty blonde girls sitting across the green.

“Mor… why are those girls looking at me?” She asked her cousin as the group of five stopped under a tree for some shade. It was 11 am, and the Alabama sun was beating down mercilessly on them.

“Probably because you’re pretty and standing too close to Rhysand for their liking,” Mor drawled with a smirk, waving brightly at the group who immediately pretended like they hadn’t seen Feyre in the first place.

“Got some fangirls?” She asked, arching an eyebrow at the boy in question, who smiled cooly and shrugged.

“It tends to happen when you look this good,” he said, running a hand through his hair. She shook her head, biting back a smile. He did look good, his violet eyes were bright, and he was dressed in a well fitting dark blue dress shirt and khakis. It was similar to the outfit he was wearing last night, but he looked much more wholesome this morning, as he turned to say hello to one of his mother’s friends.

“Don’t be cocky,” Mor chided, nudging Rhys. He simply laughed, winking at Feyre, who was mortified at the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“So, we going to brunch, or what?” Cassian piped in, “I’m starving.” Mor rolled her eyes, tucking her phone in her pocket.

“You’re always hungry.” She told him matter of factly, before asking, “the usual?” The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

“The usual?” she asked, ask they began walking towards Main Street. She stifled a groan at the thought of walking anywhere in this heat, but kept her complaints to herself.

“The Sidra. It’s one of the few places in town more popular with people our ages than our parents,” Mor told her, linking arms with both Cassian and Azriel as they headed down the sidewalk.

“We meet Amren there almost every Sunday after church, except when Mor has choir rehearsal.” Rhys explained, pushing open the door. She was met by a rush of cool air, and they found Amren sitting at a large table near the back. The Sidra put Feyre at ease in a way that nowhere else really had in Velaris. She could see herself sitting and painting for hours in one of the booths and nursing a cup of coffee.

“Can I get y’all started with something to drink?” a smiling waitress asked, her long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. After asking for a cup of coffee and a glass of water, she turned her attention to the menu. She and Rhys were sitting opposite Mor, Azriel and Amren, and Cassian had pulled a chair up to the side of the table.

Everyone had an opinion on what they thought Feyre should order, but when the waitress returned, she ordered a short stack of pancakes, despite everyone’s insistence that she have the cheesy grits.

“Maybe next weekend guys,” she said with a laugh, needing something to help with her hangover, and remind her of home a little bit.

“I can’t believe you slept with her,” Mor said incredulously, pointing her fork at Cassian at Cassian accusingly. The “her” in question was named Lacy, and she kissed Mor’s boyfriend back when they were sophomores in high school. Apparently she’s held a grudge ever since.

“Can you blame me?” Cassian asked, flashing her a rakish grin. Feyre watched the exchange raptly, eating her pancakes slowly.

“They’ll kill each other if someone doesn’t distract them,” Rhys whispered in her ear, before turning his attention to the table. “Did you see the fight that Thesan and his boyfriend got in last night?” Feyre shook her head, smiling as the table erupted into a hushed but heated discussion about what the two love birds could have possibly been quarreling about.

“I didn’t see anyone fighting…” Feyre whispered to Rhys, “and we were together almost all night.”

“I know… I made it up,” he said with a shrug, nudging her softly.

________________________________________________________________________At 12:30 Amren announced rather unceremoniously that she had plans, and had to leave. In a surprisingly nice gesture she offered to drive Cassian and Azriel home, since they were all neighbors. After promises to all catch a movie that night, the three of them were off, leaving Feyre, Rhys, and Mor sitting alone at the booth.

“Can I get the check please?” Rhys asked the waitress with a smile, putting the whole bill on his card.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, but accepting his kindness and putting her wallet back in her purse.

“He always does,” Mor says with a laugh, her eyes catching on someone she recognized on the other side of the diner. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone,” she teased, getting up to talk to her friend.

“She’s subtle, isn’t she?” Feyre said with a laugh, hoping the blush in her cheeks was not as noticeable as she thought. If it was he didn’t mention it, instead sliding easily out of the booth and offering her a hand.

“Mor has many talents, but tact was never one,” he told her, helping her out of the booth and leading her to the door. “See you later, Morrigan,” he called to Mor who was deep in conversation about last night’s party.

“So what exactly do you guys do for fun around here?” she asked, her arm linked in his as they began walking down Main Street. Her eyes slid over small green that parted the street, there was a young couple sitting in the gazebo sitting several inches apart, holding hands on the bench between them. They couldn’t have been more than 14. There were two women pushing baby strollers, gossiping, she imagined, about what people were wearing in church.

“Oh you know, the usual. Take walks, go fishing, cook elaborate meals,” he teased. She wrinkled her nose. It was nearing 90 degrees, and she couldn’t imagine doing any of those activities.

“Isn’t there anything that doesn’t involve sweating to death?” she teased, as they stopped in front of a black pick-up truck. She stifled a giggle.

“You drive this?” she asked as he unlocked the vehicle in question, and opened the passenger side door.

“Yeah, why?” he asked, clearly confused at her laughter. It was a nice truck, she just never picture Rhysand, suave southern gentleman to drive a pickup truck. It might have also been because she was more used to Range Rovers.

“Just doesn’t seem very… on brand, for you.” She said with a shrug, getting in and buckling up. He walked around to the otherside, hopping into the driver's side with ease.

“I’m full of surprises, Feyre darling,” he told her softly, starting the car and turning the air conditioner up. She took a deep breath of the cool, dry air and looked at him.

“I’m starting to notice,” she teased, before asking, “just where are we going?” It wasn’t like her to be reckless or wander away with random boys. Though, she rationalized, Rhysand wasn’t random, he was Mor’s best friend, and he did take care of her drunk ass last night.

“It’s a surprise,” he told her with a smile that made her insides melt. She bit back a retort and with a sharp exhale of breath she decided to let go of the rigidity in her life, and let this cute new boy take her on an adventure.

“Okay,” she agreed, as he pulled out of the spot, and began driving down Main Street and out of town. She checked her phone briefly: one text from her sister Elain - “Do you know where my good tennis whites are?” and one text from Mor that said “don’t do anything I wouldn’t ;)” Feyre put her phone away without responding to either.

On the drive he fiddled with the radio, and they talked about their favorite books. Hers - Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, his 1984 by George Orwell. She told him about her love of painting, and he told her about his dreams of someday traveling the world.

“We’re almost there,” he told her, about a period of companionable silence. She had rolled her window down, letting the warm summer air whip through her hair.

“Where?” she asked, peering into the woods as he cut the engine. If Rhys were any other boy she might think he were about to murder her.

“My favorite spot,” he told her simply, hopping out of the truck, and then coming around to help her out as well. “We’ve got to walk a little bit though,” he said, grabbing a backpack out of his backseat. She looked down at her sandals and navy dress, then out towards the woods.

“You want me to trek through the woods in sandals?” she asked incredulously, securing her bag on her shoulder.

“It’s not far… and there’s a path,” he promised, shouldering his backpack, and leading the way. They made their way in comfortable silence, her anticipation ratcheting up.

“What happened to not doing things that would make me sweat to death?” she teased. Pausing to catch her breath.

“We’re almost there,” he promised, leading her a couple hundred more yards before a lake appeared. It was small and surprisingly clear, with a rope swing and a wooden dock. He was grinning widely, tossing his backpack on the bank and kicking off his dress shoes. A blush rose to her cheeks as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than normal. He finished unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off and folding it neatly on top of his bag.

“Going for a swim. Are you coming?” he asked, slipping his white undershirt off as well. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his exposed torso. She couldn’t help but stare, her eyes zeroing in on a rather small tattoo on his upper arm. It was of a mountain range, with three stars above the highest peak.

“You have a tattoo?” she asked instead, raising an eyebrow. Last winter, she had begged her father to let her get a tattoo of a crescent moon and two little stars behind her ear, and he had outright refused. It was a particularly ugly fight, but she still wanted it. He nodded.

“Surprised?” he teased, unbuttoning his khakis. She shook her head, watching the way his muscles rippled as he moved.

“Not at all…” she told him, training her eyes squarely on his face, rather than on the well sculpted muscles that lead down to - Shit. She needed to control herself.

“So, are you coming swimming he asked, standing in only his boxers and making his way out onto the dock.

“I uh… don’t have a bathing suit,” she said, thinking about the white lace bra and matching thong she was wearing under her dress.

“Me neither,” he teased, looking back at her. “But you can wear my t-shirt, if you’d like,” he offered, before jumping into the lake. Determined to take risks, and not second guess herself, she nodded.

“Okay, but you can’t look,” she told him seriously once he resurfaced. She unbuckled her sandals, smiling as she watched him turn around. She made quick work of her dress, folding it next to his things and slipping on his t-shirt. It was big on her, falling around mid thigh, and smelled like citrus and something darker she couldn’t quite place. In a word, it was heavenly.

“Are you coming, or what?” he called, grinning at her from the water. She laughed, walking out to the end of the dock.

“Only if you ask nicely,” she teased, sitting on the edge of the dock and putting her feet in the water. It was surprisingly cold, which was refreshing after their hike through the woods to get here. He swam towards her, resting his arms on her knees.

“Please come in?” he asked sweetly, flashing her one of the most dazzling smiles she had ever seen. She flushed at the contact, and before she knew it his arms were around her waist and he was pulling her into the water.

“Rhys!” she shouted, her arms wrapped tightly around him on instinct. He was laughing, and she couldn’t help but do the same. After a moment she unwound her arms from his neck, treading water with ease.

“So what do you think?” he asked, watching her.

“It’s wonderful… it’s so beautiful.” she told him honestly, pushing wet hair out of her face.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he told her, looking at her in a way that suggested he wasn’t just talking about the lake. “It gets to be a pretty popular in early July, we have a big Fourth of July party out here, but most people don’t make it out here before then. I love how peaceful it is.”

She nodded, watching his lips as he spoke. They were close - less than a foot apart, but not touching. She thought about how easy it would be to lean forward and press her lips to his. She lets her mind wander for a second, imagining how how his fingers would lace through her hair, and how soft his lips would be against hers. She shook the thoughts from her head and said instead, “I’ll race you to that rock.”Beautiful deflection, Feyre she thought to herself, as she began swimming towards the large rock in the middle of the lake. She could hear his laughter as he began chasing after her. He planted his hand firmly on the side of the rock second before she did, grinning proudly as he hoisted himself up onto it. She followed suit, leaning her back against its warm surface. The sun was high in the sky, and she squinted up at him.

“I won,” he said proudly, grinning at her. She pouted a little, covering her eyes halfway with her forearm.

“So you did,” she agreed, trying not to be self conscious about the way his wet t-shirt stuck to all the curves of her body, leaving very little to to the imagination.

“So what’s my prize?” he asked, shifting so he was lying next to her.

“Who said there was a prize?” she teased, turning onto her side to face him, and propping herself up on her elbow.

“I did,” he told her matter of factly. “And besides, there’s always a prize when there’s always a prize when there’s a race.” He grinned, mirroring her position, their faces inches from each others.

“Well, what do you want?” she asked softly, licking her lips. He ran a hand through his hair, looking nervous for the first time since she’d met him.

“Well…” he began carefully, “how about this?” he asked, leaning forward and pressing a gentle to kiss to her lips. She felt him begin to pulls away, so she tangled her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. No turning back now. His hand came to rest of her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was dizzying, more passionate than anything she had shared with Tamlin, and it left her breathless. He pulled away after a minute, and she caught her breath.

“That was…” she said softly, at a loss for words.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we first met,” he told her, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You’ve only known me since yesterday,” she quipped, grinning despite herself. All of her logical sense were telling her not to get in too deep with this boy, with his eyes like night, and a smile that seemed to light up every room he was in.

“Yeah, I know, it took me long enough,” he joked as they sat up. “So, since I’ve already kissed you… would you like to go on an actual date with me?” he asked as they sat up. She nodded a little.

“Is this not a date?” she asked, laughing softly. “We are all alone in the middle of the woods, this what constituted a date when I was in high school.” She told him, remembering all the times she and Tamlin would sneak away to walk through the woods, making out and dry humping against a tree. She wrinkled her nose a little, shaking her head at the thought.

“Absolutely not.” He said, shaking his head. “I want to take you on a real date. How’s tomorrow night?” he asked.

“It’s a date,” she agreed, sliding off the rock and back into the cool water of the lake. Her brain swam with images of her and Rhys on a date, hopefully one that involved more kisses, and her wearing more than a wet white t-shirt.

Once back on shore he handed her a towel from the backpack that he brought with him, and turned around as she put back on the dress and sandals she had worn to church. Her bra and panties unfortunately were soaked, and she wrapped them quickly in his wet t-shirt and the towel he loaned her. She was self conscious wearing the dress without them, but there wasn’t much that she could do.

“I’ll wash all this and give it back tomorrow,” she told him, picking up her purse. She checked her phone. One missed call from Mor, and 3 text message. ‘How’s the date going????,’ ‘Feyre??? Helloooo??? I need details!!!,’ ‘are you alive???’ She sent a quick text back to her cousin ‘be home soon - will tell you everything.’ and dropped it back in her bag.

“Let’s get going,” he told her, shouldering his bag and surprising her by taking her hand. Holding hands now, are we? She thought to herself, smiling as they made their way back to the car. The ride back to Mor’s was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. The day had cooled off a little, enough that they didn’t turn the air conditioning on, opting instead to roll all the windows down in the car. When he pulled up to the house, she found herself getting nervous.

“I had fun today,” she told him. “Thanks for showing me things I could do for fun around here.”

“Any time,” he told her, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6:30, okay?”

“That’s perfect,” she said with a grin, taking initiative and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. “I can’t wait.” And with that she hopped out of the car, carrying her wet clothes with her, and practically skipping up to the front door.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Mor had given her an eagle eyed once over when she walked in the front door, hair soaked, carrying her little bundle of wet clothes with her. “Where have you been?” her cousin asked, raising an eyebrow, but a small smile was already pulling at her lips.

“Uh… Rhys and I went swimming…” Feyre told the blonde, heading up to her bedroom, and contemplated telling Mor about the date Rhys had asked her on for the following evening, or the kiss they shared at the lake. She knew she should tell her cousin before he did, but she kind of liked the thrill that she felt every time she thought about - about their secret.

“Oh?” Mor inquired as Feyre dropped her laundry into a hamper and unzipped the dress she was wearing. She headed into the bathroom to shower the lake off of her, but stopped to fill her cousin in, just a little.

“And he asked me on a date,” she said with a small smirk, before closing and locking the door behind her. She took a quick shower, Mor pounding on the door the entire time, occasionally yelling, ‘Oh my goodness Feyre, you have to tell me everything.’ Feyre laughed to herself, slipping on a robe, and opening the door just as Mor’s fist was raised to knock again.

“What do you mean he asked you on a date?” Mor asked, “When? Where? What are you going to wear?” Mor asked in rapid fire succession, making Feyre’s head spin.

“He asked me to go out with him, and I said yes. Tomorrow at 6:30, and as for where and what I’ll wear, I have no idea,” Feyre responded calmly, shaking her head at her cousin. She changed into Nike shorts and a loose fitting tank top, and threw her hair up into a bun.

“That doesn’t leave any time,” Mor lamented, insisting that Feyre needed to figure out her hair and makeup plan ASAP, and even suggested she go tanning. After Feyre spent 15 minutes insisting that she was not going to do any of those things - and that she was just going to be herself on the date, Mor relented.

“I just want everything to go perfectly for you,” She told Feyre, wrapping her cousin up in a tight hug. “Rhys is a lucky guy, getting to take my cousin out on a date,” teased, releasing Feyre after a few moments.

“Thanks Mor,” she said with a grin, before continuing, never one to beat around the bush: “he kissed me.”

“He did what now???” Mor asked as Feyre flopped down on her bed, giggling at the blonde.

“Yeah, we went swimming, and it just… happened.” Feyre said, tracing her lips lightly with her fingers. Her mind was moving so fast she couldn’t really explain more to Mor about what had happened - just that it had.

“My cousin and my best friend..” Mor mused, faking a shutter. Feyre rolled her eyes.

“Oh shut up Morrigan,” she said with a laugh, pulling out the blonde’s full name for emphasis. --------
On Monday, Feyre was giddy - something she hadn’t felt in years. Rhys had texted her that morning, confirming that he was picking her up at 6:30. When she asked what she should wear, he simply told her to wear something she felt comfortable in. But that they wouldn’t be doing any physical activities, or anything too fancy.

At 1:30 Mor had insisted Feyre start getting ready, but Feyre had managed to hold her off until around 4:00. Which was when Feyre was standing in front of her closet, dumbstruck about what she was supposed to wear on this date.

“I have just the thing,” Mor announced, standing in Feyre’s doorway and holding up a romper. It was a floral print, with off the shoulder sleeves. Feyre grinned, appreciating, not for the first time, her cousin’s extensive wardrobe. It seemed like the girl had an outfit (or 10), for every occasion.

“It’s perfect,” Feyre grinned, taking it from her cousin. Mor spent the next nearly two hours doing her hair and make up, as much as Feyre insisted that it wasn’t necessary. But, when Mor was finished, even Feyre had to admit she thought she looked beautiful. The makeup was subtle enough that she still felt like herself, and it enhanced her features. You could still see the smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and the eyeshadow Mor had painstakingly applied made her eyes look brighter than Feyre had ever seen them.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed, that boy will be here any minute,” Mor told her, the romper still laid out on the bed.

-----

She could hear her own heart beating as she walked down the stairs, He tore his eyes from her body in order to meet her gaze, holding out a bouquet of flowers he’d clipped himself from the family gardens.

“They’re beautiful,” she said with a smile that made his heart melt as she took them from him. Daffodils were her favorite flower.

“I’ll put them in water,” Mor volunteered, taking the flowers from Feyre’s hand, and nudging her towards Rhys. “You two crazy kids have fun.”

“Sure thing mom,” Feyre joked, following Rhys out the front door. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” She asked him once the door had closed behind her.

“Not yet,” he responded, opening the passenger door for her. The action made her chuckle a little, which earned her a raised eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just... I didn’t really think boys did stuff like this anymore,” she told him honestly. Most of the dates she and Tamlin had been on in high school had been walks in the woods near campus where she’d try to have conversations with him, and he’d try and cop a feel. Occasionally, when they were upperclassmen and Tam had a car, they’d go to the movies on the weekends, which was really just another excuse to make out somewhere.

“Stuff like what?” he asked curiously, closing the door for her, before getting in the drivers side.

“Picking me up at the front door, the flowers, opening the car door for me, that kind of stuff. You know, the real chivalrous stuff that only happens in books.” She said. He nodded thoughtfully.

“When I was 14, getting ready to go on my first real “date,” my dad gave me some advice that I try to follow till this day.” He started the car before continuing, “He told me, ‘Son, there are two things a lady should never touch on a date, the door and the check.” He laughed softly, “It’s advice I’ve tried to live by on every date since then.” She shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile on her face.

“I mean, it sounds a little 1950s, but it’s sweet,” she said with a smile, lacing her hand with his free one.

“I’m glad you think so,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently. She hummed along to the radio, wondering absentmindedly where they were going when he pulled into a parking spot on Main Street.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” she asked as he came around to open her door. He grinned, taking her hand and helping her out of the car.

“Fine, fine. First, I thought we could stroll around the bookstore, and then I was going to take you to dinner,” he said, smiling down at her.

“I love that,” she told him honestly, her eyes brightening and a smile spreading across her face. She loved to read, and back at home the used bookstore in town was one of her favorite places to escape her family and their overbearing nature.

“I’m glad,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I know you said you liked to paint, but the closest gallery is over an hour away.” He guided her towards the little book shop, tucked between a coffee shop that was closed for the day, and a tax office. “I figured we could find some books to read on the beach this summer.”

“We?” she asked, teasing slightly, and nudging him in the side.

“Well yes, assuming this date goes well and I don’t make a complete fool of myself, I could see us spending more time together.” He told her sheepishly, surprised at how nervous he suddenly found himself.

“I’d like that,” she said as the bell of the door alerted the man at the register of customers. She took in the bookstore, every wall was packed with books, there wasn’t a single empty space that wasn’t housing books. They were lined up on the window sill, and a few were scattered on a coffee table surrounded by overstuffed couches. She peeked around the corner at rows and rows of bookshelves, and she felt herself getting a little giddy.

“Like what you see?” he murmured in her ear, leading her deeper into the store. She simply nodded, running her finger along the spines. “So, what do you read?” he asked, stopping in front of a shelf of mystery novels. She bit her lip.

“A little bit of everything, but I really like romance novels,” she told him sheepishly. “And fantasy, basically anything that helps me escape reality for a little while.” He nodded thoughtfully, picking up a few paperbacks from one of his favorite authors that he had yet to read. She stood a few feet away, reading the backs of a few novels.

“Find anything that’s caught your eye?” he asked, leaning against the wall of books.

“Mmm, there is something…” she asked, making eye contact with him. He had a feeling she was talking about more than the books.

“Good.” he said smiling. They spent the next half an hour strolling through the store, picking out books, and trying to find novels with ridiculous premises to read the description outloud to one another as dramatically as they could muster. They finally made their way to the counter, checking out their stacks of books. Feyre had stood firm in her conviction that she would not let him buy her books for her, and he finally agreed, so long as she would at least let him buy her dinner. She laughed but nodded.

“So where are we going to dinner?” she asked, arm looped in his. He carried both bags of books, and she found herself not protesting. She was starting to get used to the whole southern gentleman thing as he opened her door again.

“One of my favorite places, it’s a little ways out of town, but I promise it’s worth the drive.”

“I trust you,” she told him, rolling down her window a little as they took off. It was a warm night, and she liked the smell of fresh air. She could hear crickets singing as he drove, the wind tousling her hair in a way that Mor and her curling iron couldn’t mimic. Rhys pulled up in front of a retro looking diner about 15 minutes later. It wasn’t what she was expecting, but she was beginning to realize that this boy was full of surprises.

“What do you think?” he asked, opening the door to the restaurant for her.

“It’s adorable,” she told him, “and it reminds me of home, in a weird way. We have a couple of diners like this.” He smiled at that, and they followed the waitress to a booth. She handed them both a menu, and asked if she could get them anything to drink.

“Could I get a chocolate cabinet?” she asked, automatically, dreaming of the thick chocolately drink she would have ordered at her favorite diner back home. It took her a second to realize that both Rhys and the waitress were staring at her like she had two sets of eyes, and a second head.

“I… what was that?’ the waitress asked, trying not to look so terribly confused. Rhys waited for an explanation as well, and Feyre realized sheepishly that “cabinet” was not in fact a universal term.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, “I’ll have a chocolate shake,” she told the waitress, who nodded. Rhys was hiding a smile, and ordered the same. The waitress left for the kitchen, and Rhys finally let out a laugh.

“I thought cabinets were where you kept your dishes,” he teased, taking her hand over the table. She blushed just a little.

“They’re that too… I think it's a New England thing, a lot of the diners near where I live call them that....” she shook her head, wondering what other words she would say that would turn heads down in Alabama. The rest of the meal went by without any more linguistic differences, and they instead chatted about things they had in common. Heading off to college, sports they played in high school, and their favorite tv shows. Rhys also filled her in on the major house parties that were already scheduled this summer, which, he assured her, she was definitely invited to.

When he paid the check, they made their way to his car, holding hands and giggling about a joke Rhys had made. She felt giddy, high off of a wonderful evening with a sweet boy, one who she desperately wanted to kiss again. And, if she was being honest, do other things with too.

They were standing near the passenger side door, and she flicked her gaze up to his lips, careful not to stare too long. She could hear each beat of her heart pounding in her ears, and it took all of her self restraint not to make the first move. Mor had made that very clear. She could drop not so subtle hints, but she said it was important that Rhys think he had made the first move. Something about his ego or pride or something.

“I… uh…” he said softly, clearly at a loss for words. His eyes met her briefly, then flicked to her lips. She darted her tongue out to wet them, tilting her chin up a little. That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed, bending slightly to catch her lips in his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. It quickly turned into more than a quick peck, and he had her body pressed against the side of his car. After a moment longer than what would be appropriate considering they were in perfect sight of the diner, he pulled away. She grinned.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” she confessed, staring at his lips in a way that made it clear she didn’t want to stop.

“Me too,” he said sheepishly, opening the car door. She slid into the seat, touching her fingers to her lips. He got in too, smiling at her. “I can’t figure you out, Archeron,” he told her honestly, putting the key in the ignition.

“So don’t,” she said, leaning over to kiss him again. He smiled against her lips, pulling away. God, the things he wanted to do with this girl. The image of his t-shirt riding up her thigh as she let the sun warm her face out on the rock in the middle of the lake flashed through his mind, and he felt desire cloud his brain. He shook his head.

“You are trouble,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers, and pulling out of the parking lot. Normally, Rhys would have jumped at the chance of getting with a girl like Feyre, beautiful and smart and kind, but there was something about her that made him want to take his time. But not too much time, he reminded himself, considering she would be going back to Massachusetts at the end of August, and to college in New York City, where she was sure to meet some well educated cosmopolitan man who would take her to fancy galleries, and other things he could only dream of being able to give her. But it was only early June, and he wasn’t going to take her to bed tonight and ruin a good thing that they seemed to have going on.

He pulled up the driveway of her aunt and uncle’s house, and turned the engine off. He tried to think of something sweet or charming to say, but for once, he was at a loss for words.

“I’ll text you,” she said with a grin. He walked her to the door, and they stood on the front porch for a second.

“Your cousin is watching us,” he said softly. Mor was peeking around a corner, trying to get a good look at the pair while maintaining some distance.

“Let’s give her something to watch then,” she told him, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a quick, soft kiss. He smiled.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, handing her the bag of books she had purchased earlier.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, stepping away reluctantly, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go of him entirely. She stood on the porch, watching him get in his car and drive away, preparing to relive every moment of the night with her cousin. Well, maybe not every moment. There were some things she thought she might keep to herself for now.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Tell. Me. Everything.” Mor said as soon as Feyre had opened the front door. Her cousin had come out from her hiding spot around the corner, and was now staring expectantly at Feyre. “It was nice,” she said, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face. “We went to the little book store in town, and then he took me out to dinner.” She told Mor, unbuckling her sandals and heading upstairs. It was after ten, and she couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her lips. She reached into her purse for her phone, smiling when she saw a text from Rhys that said, ‘Home now. Sweet dreams, Feyre darling.’ She shook her head at Mor who was staring at her expectantly, waiting for more information. ‘Goodnight, Rhys’ she texted back, ignoring the messages from her sisters asking about where their favorite articles of clothing were. She’d text them tomorrow, she told herself, setting her phone on her dresser. “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Mor,” she said, still smiling. “The date went really well, and I’ll probably see him again,” she said honestly, causing Mor to squeal. “Good!” she said, clapping her hands together. “God, my best friend and my cousin, who would have thought. Well, goodnight Feyre. Don’t forget, we’re all going to the club tomorrow for lunch and golf.”“....golf?” she asked incredulously. She hadn’t known them all very long, but it was hard to imagine Rhys or Cassian wearing pastels and playing golf. Tamlin had tried to get her to play with him countless times, but it was never really her thing. “Yeah, our parents think it's good for us. But we just go and fuck around. It’ll be fun, promise. Mor told her with a laugh, slipping out of Feyre’s room and into her own. Feyre changed into her pajamas quickly, the cool air sending goosebumps up her bare legs. She wondered idly how dreadful living in this house before central air must have been. She crawled between the linen sheets, and was fast asleep in no time. --------- “Feyre, wake up,” Mor called, walking into the room and pulling the shades open, allowing for the warm midmorning light to fill the room. “What time is it?” Feyre mumbled, covering her eyes with her arm to adjust her vision ot the sudden brightness of the room. “Nearly 10, we’re leaving in half an hour.” Mor said matter of factly, already dressed in a navy blue golf skirt and a white polo. Her hair was tied up neatly in a ponytail, and she was wearing a white visor. “And bring a bath suit, we’ll probably go to the pool after.” “I uhh, don’t have anything like that,” she said, motioning to Mor’s outfit. She’d brought a few pairs of Nike running shorts and exactly one sports bra, figuring she wouldn’t need them while she was there. “Don’t worry, I have stuff you can borrow,” Mor said, already handing Feyre a neatly folded pile of clothes, like the blonde was expecting her to make that argument. Feyre sat up slowly, her eyes finally adjusted to the brightness of the room. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” Mor said brightly, leaving to give Feyre some privacy. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she surveyed the clothes that Mor had left her. The skirt was white, with built in spandex. She slipped in on, and not for the first time, cursed at being taller than her cousin. The skirt fell high on her thigh, and she tried in vain for several moments to tug it down. She supposed it wasn’t too outlandish, but it was certainly shorter than she would have normally picked out for herself. The shirt, like Mor’s, was collared, and fit well. She slipped on her sneakers, hoping they would be appropriate, and even threw on the baseball cap Mor had left for her. In all the outfit was incredibly out of her comfort zone, but she liked it. She grabbed a bikini out of her drawer, threw it in a bag, and headed down to meet Mor. “Damn Feyre, Rhys isn’t going to know what hit him,” Mor said, a mischievous smile on her lips. She was waiting in the foyer with two sets of golf clubs. “Don’t act like you didn’t pick this out,” Feyre reminded her cousin, helping to lug the two large bags to the back of Mor’s car. Rhys, Cassian and maybe Azriel would be meeting them for golf, and after her squash lesson Amren would meet them for lunch. She wasn’t much of a golfer, Mor explained, there wasn’t enough action for her. Half an hour later they were rolling up to the Country Club that their families belonged to. Mor handed the keys to the valet, and Feyre watched with no small amount of guilt as the caddy lugged the clubs out of the car. She followed Mor inside, whipping around when someone tugged on her ponytail. “Hey-” she began, preparing to berate the assumed stranger, when a grin broke out across her face. “Hi Feyre,” Cassian said, a roguish grin spreading across his face. Feyre couldn’t help but smile back. “Hey yourself,” she said, punching him lightly in the arm as her eyes traveled to the man standing behind him, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Hello Feyre darling,” Rhys drawled, slinging his arm over her shoulder, like it was the most natural action in the world. “Hey, what about me?” Mor joked, as Cassian wrapped her into a bear hug. “Someone’s jealousss,” Cassian teased, as Mor begged him to put her down. Feyre couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the other club members being drawn to them. She was surprised to find that they looked at the group fondly, instead of with the contempt for being disruptive that she was expecting. “Rhys’ dad is a big donor,” Azriel said knowingly, seemingly appearing from out of the shadows, and apparently recognizing the confusion on Feyre’s face. “They basically have to like us”
“Shall we golf then, ladies and gentlemen?” Cassian asked, wearing the most ridiculous tartan golf cap Feyre had ever seen. The group headed off to the green, and not for the first time since coming to Velaris, Feyre noted that it was nice to feel like she belonged.----
“FORE!” Cassian shouted, before sending his ball soring down the green. Feyre flinched at his volume, seated in the golf cart with Rhys, watching as Mor lined up her shot. They were only doing four holes today, since they had lunch plans at one with Amren. Feyre was hoping that she would get away with sitting in the golf cart and drinking vodka crans from the bev cart girls that Rhys gladly paid for. “You’re up, yankee!” Cassian teased, after Mor had finished her shot. She groaned softly, staring blankly at the array of clubs in the bag, when Rhys came to stand next to her. “You want the driver,” he murmured, plucking the club out of the bag and handing it to her. “Right,” she said, gripping it awkwardly, and heading towards the ball already set on the tee. She tried to mimic the stances of her friends, but the movements felt awkward. “I don’t… really know what I’m doing,” she told them honestly, feeling a little sheepish. She suddenly wished she had taken Tamlin up on his offers to teach her how to golf. “Here, I’ll show you,” Rhys said, coming up behind her, and adjusting her stance slightly, before wrapping his arms around her and resting his hands on hers. “You want to swing like this,” he said, guiding her arms through the motion, several times. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as his breath tickled at her neck. She was mortified to realize that Mor, Cassian, and Azriel were all watching them. “I think I’ve got it,” she said softly, reluctant to lose the closeness of his body. He grinned. “Show me what you’ve got, Feyre darling,” he said, retreating back to the golf cart. She ran through her head again the steps to the swing that Rhys has whispered in her ear, and was pleased when she actually made contact with the ball, and sent it flying a fair distance. It wasn’t as good as anyone else's shot, but it wasn’t quite as bad as she was expecting. “That’s my girl!” Rhys called, and she beamed. ------
By the end of the game she was feeling rather good about herself. She’d come in last, by a landslide in fact, but she’d had fun - and not just because she’d had three free drinks while she was out there. “So Feyre, what did you think?” Cassian asked, “are you a golf fan, yet?” She laughed, shrugging a little as they walked into the restaurant. “It’s definitely growing on me,” she agreed, as they walked into the restaurant. She was relieved to be back inside - it was nearly noon and the Alabama sun was blistering. She was thankful for the cold air coming through the vents. She wasn’t quite sure if the game were growing on her, or that she simply enjoyed the way Rhys’s hands would gently adjust her stance each time she went to swing. “Finally you all are here,” a cool voice said, and Feyre spotted Amren almost instantly, dressed in all black, reclining against a wall near the hostess, who was looking at the small angry girl not without a modicum of unease. “Oh! Rhysand,” the hostess, who Feyre guessed to be about their age, said, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Feyre couldn’t blame her, Rhys had that effect on her too. “Hi Lyla,” he said pleasantly, an arm still draped around Feyre’s shoulders. “I have a reservation at noon for six. Should be under Montgomery,” he flashed her a dazzling smile, and Feyre nudged him lightly in the ribs as the girl stared at the seating chart of the dining room for several moments before she regained her composure. “Right this way!” She said, suddenly the picture of southern grace and charm as she led them to a large table that overlooked the course. “My dad’s favorite table,” Rhys murmured in her ear. “We almost always sit here when the reservations are under my last name.” Feyre smiled, a little, shaking her head a little at how ridiculous these people could be. “Do we have any plans this week?” Cassian asked once the group was seated. That was something Feyre had begun to notice about the tall, dark haired boy. He was always looking for the next thing to do - he hardly ever sat still for more than a few moments, except to eat, and even then he was always the most animated person in the room. “I was thinking about asking my parents if we could go down to the beach?” Rhys said nonchalantly, drinking deeply from his water glass, before refilling it from the pitcher on the table. “Beach? I’m in,” Cassian said emphatically, as Azriel and Amren shared skeptical glances. It wasn’t hard to guess that they weren’t huge fans of the beach. “You could invite Varian and Cresseida,” Mor said to Amren, grinning triumphantly when Amren agreed. Feyre watched the whole exchange with a hint of confusion, usually feeling a step behind everyone else. “Rhys’s parents own a fucking massive beach house down in Fairhope,” Azriel offered quietly, usually the one to catch on to Feyre’s confusion, especially when the rest of them were caught up in making plans. She appreciated that about him - he was quietly attentive to everything going on around him, and Feyre could see them becoming close friends by the end of the summer, though she suspected it might take some time for him to let anyone close to him. “Fairhope is known for its artists,” Rhys whispered into her ear, and Feyre was surprised to find that he was in fact following her conversation with Azriel, while still figuring out their plan with Cassian and Mor. “Oh?” she asked, a shiver running down her spine at his voice. He nodded, shooting her a grin. “Maybe I’ll let you paint me, Feyre Darling.” he teased, and she felt a blush rise into her cheeks. “Maybe.” She agreed, already mapping out in her mind the slopes of his face, the bulges of his muscles… she would really like to paint him, but she imagined the weekend might be filled with more bonfires and liquor and sunburns, which she was okay with too.