Undeniably (Brighton Academy Book 3) Read online

  Undeniably

  By Cala Riley

  Copyright @ 2020 by Cala Riley

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, except brief quotes used for reviews and certain other non-commercial uses, as per copyright laws. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Undeniably Cover Photo by: TakeCover Designs

  Dedication:

  Krys, are words even enough to express how grateful we are for you? Thank you for always being here for us and taking our vague ideas and then turning them into beautiful covers. If people judge our books by the covers, you made sure they would fall in love with us. Thank you.

  -Cala & Riley

  Prologue

  Morgan, fourteen years old, freshman in high school.

  “Morgan, you got a letter in the mail,” My mom’s singsong voice calls me from my room.

  My heart races. The only mail I’ve been waiting for is the determination from Hamilton Dance Academy. I’ve wanted to go there ever since I saw the Hamilton Company perform the Nutcracker back when I was six. The way the dancers floated across the dance floor spoke to me.

  A week later, my mom enrolled me in ballet classes.

  Running down the stairs, I find both Mom and Dad standing at the kitchen counter, the letter in question dangling in my mom’s hand.

  “What took you so long?” she teases.

  My heart stops at the small envelope. It surely is a rejection letter.

  I reluctantly take it from her hand and stare at it as my thoughts run wild.

  I’ve wanted nothing more than to become a professional dancer. I prayed for it every single night. As the nerves threaten to consume me, I think of Keaton, my best friend.

  I wish he were here with me. He always calms the anxiety that lives inside me. He’s my comfort zone.

  Thinking of him has the opposite effect. The thought of having to leave him causes a fresh wave of anxiety to wash over me.

  “Are you going to open it or not?” Dad’s voice jars me from my thoughts.

  I look up to see them watching me, each wearing an expression of nervousness.

  My heart continues to thump in my chest as my quivering hands toy with the edge of the envelope. “What if I didn’t get in?”

  “What if you did?” Dad counters.

  I roll my eyes. My dad’s always saying corny stuff like that.

  My mom scolds him under her breath before she takes my hands in hers, holding the envelope between the two.

  “If you didn’t, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. There’s no point worrying about something that hasn’t happened. The important thing is that you tried your best. You gave it all you had. That’s something to be proud of. Whether or not you get accepted won’t change that accomplishment. Either way, you won’t know until you open it.”

  Taking a calming breath, I look back to the letter between our hands. I drag it out of hers before opening the top. Hesitantly, I take out the piece of paper that determines my future. I squeeze my eyes shut as I unfold the letter.

  “I can’t look. You do it.”

  Dad chuckles, but Mom is as patient as ever. “I could look at it for you, but I think you should look at it yourself. When you dig deep inside and face your fears, you’ll learn that you’re braver than you thought.”

  “I know.”

  I know what Mom is saying is right. She always says that it’s important for me to take charge of my life. She’s always made me do things on my own but made it known she will be right there even when things get hard.

  Slowly, I unclench my eyes before opening them. I allow myself to scan the letter before reading the words.

  Dear Morgan Wright,

  We are pleased to invite you to join us in the fall….

  I scream. I scream so loud and so hard that my throat feels raw after a few seconds.

  “I got in!”

  I’m engulfed in a group hug before the words escape my mouth. I can hear them giving me words of congratulations, but all I can think about is that I need to tell one person the best news of my life.

  Keaton.

  I pull back from my parents with tears in my eyes.

  “I have to tell Keaton.”

  They each give me a warm smile.

  “Let’s go tell him then.” Mom grabs her keys as she shoos me out the door.

  On the way over, my excitement wanes as I realize that I will be leaving Keaton. I won’t have my best friend by my side. We haven’t been separated for more than a week since we were eight. Hamilton Dance Academy is in Chicago, an hour and a half away, but it seems further.

  We talked about this possibility. He said he would visit Chicago, and I would come home often. Every weekend, if I could. My stomach sours at the thought of being so far away.

  “What if Keaton forgets about me?” I voice my concern aloud.

  “Don’t be silly. That boy is half in love with you. He could never forget you,” my mom jokes. She’s said this since we met, that we would one day end up together. Then it was disgusting to think about, but with time, my feelings changed.

  I suddenly found Keaton attractive. I’ve had thoughts that one shouldn’t have about her best friend. Keaton acts the same as he always has, so obviously it’s all one-sided.

  As we pull up to his house, I sit in the car another minute. I have this sense that this moment will change my entire life.

  “Honey, Keaton will be happy for you. You will still get to come home, and I’m sure Reed will bring him to visit you. Don’t worry so much. He’s your best friend. Go celebrate with him.”

  I give her a small nod, hoping that she’s right.

  “Do you want me to wait?”

  I shake my head. “Boswell will bring me home when I’m ready.”

  “All right. Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  Boswell opens the door before I get to it.

  “Ms. Wright, the boys are on the back porch. Head on back, and I’ll bring you water with lemon.”

  I smile. He knows me so well.

  Walking through the house, I stop when I reach the open sliding glass door. I hear the male voices floating through. My heart drops a little. I wanted to tell him alone. When Boswell said boys, I thought he meant Reed and Keaton. Maybe Finley and Sterling. The voices coming to me now are not them. They are boys in our class.

  “Miranda has some tits on her though. Did you see her in class yesterday? I swore the top button of her shirt would pop like a damn balloon.”

  What the hell is Keaton doing with Charles Darling? He’s the asshole of our class, constantly making rude comments to the girls and getting into fights with boys.

  “Miranda? Nah, brah, what about Stacey? That ass is to die for. What I wouldn’t give to hop on that shit like a kangaroo.”

  They all laugh at the comment Charles’s best friend Ryan makes.

  “What about you, Keaton? You are always hanging out with that ironing board. What’s her name again? Morgan?”

  My heart stills.

  Ironing board?

  I look down at my body. I’m thin with small boobs, but that comes with being a ballerina. You need to be thin to flow through the air, or so Mrs. Lutz, my ballet instructor, says.

  I expect Keaton to stick up for me and set them straight. I don’t expect the next words out of his mouth.

  “Yep, that’s Morgan fo
r you.”

  I can almost picture the shrug at the end of that statement.

  Tears threaten my eyes as I turn to leave, but Ryan’s next question stops me.

  “You bang that yet?”

  A long silence passes before Keaton laughs. “You already know, brah.”

  They all burst out laughing. This time, I don’t stop. I turn and run right to the front door. Boswell catches me as I reach it.

  “What’s wrong, Ms. Wright?”

  He’s holding a tray of drinks. I feel the tears pouring from my eyes as the tightness in my chest continues to retract like a vice on my heart. The betrayal threatens to crush me.

  “Take me home?” I whimper between sobs.

  He doesn’t hesitate. He sets his tray down on a hall table before opening the door for me. From behind, I hear Keaton hollers, “Boswell, what’s taking so long?”

  “Shouldn’t you go to him? I whisper.

  “He can wait. Let’s get you home.”

  The drive home is silent as I sob uncontrollably in the back seat. I want to be strong like my mom taught me, but I love Keaton. Those words he spoke shattered me.

  “Here you are, Ms. Wright.”

  “Thank you, Boswell. Could you not tell Keaton I stopped by?”

  He gives me a sad smile. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

  I return his sad smile with a thankful one. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Ms. Wright. I’ll miss you.”

  I think we both know this is goodbye for good.

  When I enter the front door, my mom pops her head around the corner to see who it is. When she sees me, her eyes go wide.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” She engulfs me in her arms, offering me the comfort I need.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. When can we leave for Chicago? Please tell me right now.”

  “Honey, whatever it is can’t be that bad. Let’s not make rash decisions.”

  “No, Mom, it’s worse. Please, can’t we go?”

  She sighs. “You know I think you should face your problems, not run away.”

  “Mom, I know. Just this once can you just let me? Please? I need time.”

  She gives in. “Just this once. We can go check the campus out again tomorrow. Maybe spend a few days in the city.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” I whisper as I let the rest of today's emotions pour from my body.

  ✽✽✽

  Chapter 1

  Morgan

  Senior year

  I never thought I would see this building again.

  When I left two and a half years ago, I thought I had left this place behind me.

  Sighing, I take the first step, a shot of discomfort through my ankle a painful reminder of why I’m here.

  Walking through the doors, I take in my surroundings. The school hasn’t changed a bit since freshman year. I head straight to the senior hall, ignoring the questioning glances from many of my former classmates. I can see that they are trying to figure out how they know me. I don’t blame them. I never talked to many people when I was here. Well, except him.

  I don’t want to think about him though. I’d like to say that I forgot him after I left, but the truth is, he’s never far from my mind.

  Time and distance didn’t change the underlying feelings of betrayal.

  Finding my locker, I open it, shoving the books my parents picked up for me inside.

  “Damn, girl. You’re looking fine. Please tell me how we’ve never met before.” His voice freezes me momentarily.

  It’s deeper and a little raspier, but it’s still the same.

  Keaton.

  I tense only a moment before clicking my armor into place. Spinning around, I slam my locker door before cocking my hip.

  “Keaton Yates. I see nothing about you has changed.” I give him a quick once-over before giving him a unimpressed look.

  “Morgan?” A surprised look crosses his face briefly, but it’s quickly replaced by a darker expression.

  “Yep.” I pop the P, then turn and walk away.

  “See you around, Morgan,” he calls after me.

  Shit.

  I know he means it as a threat. I remember the way the Yates crew works.

  I used to be a part of that crew. Sort of. By extension.

  I slide into first period three minutes early, settling into a desk in the back. A familiar face walks in just behind me.

  “Morgan Wright? Is that you?” Rachel Simmons, one of the popular girls from freshman year, takes the seat next to me.

  “The one and only,” I mumble.

  “Girl, it’s been so long. Where the hell have you been?”

  I didn’t want to get into what brought me here, so I go with the easiest answer. “I changed schools, but my parents’ work brought them back here, so here I am.”

  “That sounds legit. Well, now that you’re back, we should hang or something. It’s been too long.”

  “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

  “Are you still tight with Keaton? Does he know you’re back?”

  I cringe at his name. “He knows.”

  Just then, the man in question walks through the door. I let out a groan under my breath.

  “Of fucking course.”

  “What was that?” Rachel asks.

  “Nothing.”

  She looks over her shoulder, and her entire demeanor changes. She goes from open and friendly to sultry and flirty in a blink.

  “Hey, Keaton. Saw you in the game last week. That cross-check was amazing.” Her dreamy sigh at the end is the icing on the cake.

  He barely spares her a glance but does a double take when he sees me behind her. Instead of sitting in the desk he set his books on, he picks them back up, making a beeline for the desk next to me.

  Rachel, not one to be left out, addresses him. “Oh, did you see Morgan’s back in town? She just got back. Her parents’ job finally brought her back to us.”

  I want to roll my eyes at the game she’s playing. Back in the day, everyone knew that where Keaton went, I went. We were a pair. What she doesn’t know is being buddy-buddy with me will not get her anywhere. By the glare Keaton is sending my way, we have a mutual hatred nowadays.

  “Yeah, I saw that she’s back. You said her parents’ job?” He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to question me.

  I know that he knows it’s a lie. My mom’s an accountant, and my dad’s an estate attorney. Hell, my dad has worked closely with Reed regarding the Yates sibling’s trusts. I know for a fact that he has had dinner with Reed at least three times in the past year.

  If Keaton doesn’t know my excuse is complete bullshit, I would be surprised.

  “Yep, that’s what she said,” I grumble at him, pulling my focus to my tablet.

  I didn’t realize how high-tech Brighton was until I went to my last school. They didn’t really care so much about our actual education but whether or not you could make your next pirouette.

  “Very cool. Glad they brought you back after you disappeared so suddenly.”

  I resist the urge to look up at his face to see if it matches the tension in his voice.

  Rachel, oblivious to the friction between us, jumps back in, taking over the conversation. I send her a silent thank-you in my head.

  “I’m glad she’s back too. We’re going to be best friends, right, Morgan?”

  I give her a tight smile and nod. This girl is delusional, but as long as she keeps talking, I’m okay with it.

  “Be careful, Rach. Being her best friend is dangerous. She may just disappear one day without saying a word. Leave you with nothing.”

  Like she did to me. I don’t miss the words he left off.

  “That’s okay. We’re seniors. After this year, we’ll probably never see each other again. I’m sure Morgan has plans after school. Not me, I’m staying here.”

  As she prattles on about her plans, I try to breathe over the knot in my chest. I ha
d big plans after high school. That’s all over now. After one wrong fall and my idiotic belief that I had everything under control, I ruined all of that. Now I’m just trying to put the pieces back together.

  “You okay?” Keaton whispers to me as Rachel continues to talk.

  “Why do you even care?” I hiss at him.

  Keaton straightens up before muttering, “I don’t.”

  Thank goodness, the bell rings, followed by the teacher walking in and immediately starting class.

  ✽✽✽

  Rubbing my temples, I make my way to the cafeteria. Out of the three classes I had this morning, Keaton was in two of them. He sat right next to me and muttered underhanded comments towards me. I ignored him, but it didn’t stop him.

  Thankfully, he didn’t take dance—the only class I requested to take. Not that I can participate with my injury, but my mom talked to the school and the teacher agreed to give me credit for being her assistant and helping one of the younger classes with their ballet.

  It’s bittersweet to be in the studio. On one hand, my heart aches to be out there with them, doing each move as fluidly as I breathe. My heart feels lighter watching each of the students nail a harder move or just enjoying the dance for what it is. Beauty.

  I miss the days when I could dance just for me.

  Walking through the line, I grab a yogurt and a banana, taking it to an empty table. I’m about to sit down when a body hits me from behind.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s actually you! I didn’t believe Keaton when he said you were back. I’ve missed you.” The girl squeezing me to death is none other than Tinsley Yates, Keaton’s younger sister.

  My mind immediately takes in the young woman who has replaced the child I once knew.

  “Tinsley? Damn, girl, you grew up.”

  She huffs, “I wish other people saw that.”

  I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to their table in the back corner.

  “Do you still have a crush on Finley?”

  Her cheeks turn red, but instead of answering, she punches my arm. Hard.

  “Ow. What the hell, Tin Tin?” I fall easily into the nickname I used throughout her childhood.