- Series: Finding Fate Series , #1
- Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
- Publication date: 3/4/2014
- Pages: 336
Pixie and Levi haven't spoken in nearly a year when they find themselves working―and living―at the same inn in the middle of nowhere. Once upon a time, they were childhood friends. But that was before everything went to hell. And now things are... awkward.
All they want to do is avoid each other, and their past, for as long as possible. But now that they're forced to share a bathroom, and therefore a shower, keeping their distance from one another becomes less difficult than keeping their hands off each other. Welcome to the hallway of awkward tension and sexual frustration, folks. Get comfy. It’s going to be a long summer.
@ Goodreads
Right off the bat, the author threw me into this story. There isn't a traditional story intro where the characters and their relationships are explained. Instead, Chelsea Fine drops the reader straight into the drama -which can be good and bad.
So first off, I'm going to hit on all my likes.
I really liked the drama of this book. It was well presented and made the book interesting (which is what it is supposed to do, i know). But the author manages to make the drama into a reasonable amount without overloading. (Sorry, but I don't like the drama that comes along with soap operas).
Also, I really liked the intensity of Pixie and Levi's relationship! (Now get your mind out of the gutter ;) ). There was so much emotion and chaos within their relationship and I LOVED it. They really complimented each other well and were able to bring the book to life.
Pixie (by the way, I love this nickname), is the kind of girl that most will relate to. She is head strong and determined to do her own thing. Although hurt by the actions of others...yes, I am calling you out Levi... she doesn't let that get in the way of her career. It was nice not to have to read about a character that just lets other people trample all over her. She gave as good as she got when it came to Levi, and their power struggles literally made me laugh out loud.
(And gave me some really good ideas for revenge ;) ).
Levi, of course, frustrated me to no end. The author graced us with his point of view throughout the book and I am happy to say that these were some of the best chapters. Levi definitely presented this front throughout the book that was only taken away in times of extreme stress and when the chapters were from his point of view.
Now the dislikes:
I don't know what it is, but I don't like books about fixer-upper hotels. I seriously don't know why this is, but it's definitely a personal preference.
Also, it was sometimes really hard to connect with the characters and I felt like I could just flip pages and still know what was going on.
But otherwise, this book was on point and definitely a four star read!
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My black and white paint tubes are still out from the last time I painted. I’m not sure where my colored paints are. Maybe in one of the unopened boxes I brought from my dorm? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not really in a red or green or yellow mood, and haven’t been for quite some time.
A few blonde curls fall into my eyes as I stretch my arms out, and I hastily blow them away. Once again, I didn’t bother to straighten my hair after my warm shower last night—I needed to rinse Matt’s buttery saliva trails from my skin—so of course my locks are a poofy mess, which is why I hate showering at night!
Holding the paintbrush between my teeth, I quickly pull my hair into a haphazard bun and imprison my curls.
Sunlight pours in through my bedroom window, warming the floorboards beneath my feet as I wiggle my toes and stare at the blank canvas.
Still staring.
A good twenty minutes goes by before I finally set my brush to it, and when I do, it’s a giant black stroke. Then another. I brush at the canvas until it’s nearly covered in darkness. I add white. I smudge it into gray. I change my mind and jab more black on there.
I don’t know what I’m painting yet, but that’s not unusual. I typically don’t know where I’m going when I start a painting. The image just… happens, and sometimes it’s not even a real image. Sometimes—most times, lately—it’s just an array of colors and brushstrokes that feel like something more than look like something.
A few quick knocks pull my attention to my door.
“Come in,” I call out.
It creaks open and Ellen steps inside with two canvases. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for lending me your spare keys yesterday too. My set is lost somewhere in this mess.” I gesture at the mounds of laundry, books, and boxes about my room.
“No problem.” She sets the canvases by the wall and watches me paint for a moment. “Why is everything you paint only black-and-white? What happened to those beautiful color paintings you used to do?”
Why does everyone care?
“Don’t overthink it,” I say. “I’m just in a phase.”
“Right,” she says with knowing eyes. “Well. Enjoy your day off.” She turns and disappears into the hallway.
I go back to painting, thinking about all the times Ellen encouraged me to pursue my passion for art.
She bought me my first set of paints. My first real paintbrushes. She paid for my first art lessons and hung my first real painting—a bright orange sun shining over a purple lake surrounded by yellow flowers—in the center of her living room like it was a priceless piece of art. Like it was special.
I stand back and look at the muddled gray colors in front of me. I frown. It’s not quite what I want to see. It looks… wrong, somehow.
My eyes skip to my bedroom window, drawn by a flash of movement outside. I see Levi running up and down the stone steps behind the lavender field. He does this almost every day.
Today it’s cloudy outside and the sky is darker than usual, which means a storm is coming. My heart starts to race.
I watch Levi scale the steps again. His hair is all mussed up like he’s been shoving his hands in it, and he’s wearing a pair of gym shorts and his worn-out ASU T-shirt. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen him in that shirt, running laps or bleachers. His dad, Mark, gave it to him for his sixteenth birthday, and I swear Levi wore it every day for two weeks after that. He was so determined to play football for ASU. He was always so dedicated and driven, so focused. He was a teenage boy with big dreams and few problems.
I wonder who he is now. Who’s that guy running up and down those old stone steps?
I used to know him. I don’t anymore.
Sharp sadness sinks into me, cold and dark, and I suddenly want to run outside and throw my arms around him. I want to bury my face in his chest and cry into his college T-shirt like a lost little girl.
I pull my eyes away from the window and look back at my gray painting.
I put my paintbrush away. It no longer looks wrong.
I write, I paint, I drink coffee and I love superheroes. I fail at cooking and putting laundry away and I have a minor addiction to reading. Okay, major. Friend me!
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