Free One Northern Morning (A Novella) (Southern Nights Novella Series #2) by Marissa Carmel Page A

is small. So small, I barely recognize it. So hurt, I can barely stand it.
    “Come on, this was just a hiccup.” He tries to argue, maybe reason. Either way, I’ve made my mind up.
    “It’s a hiccup that’s going to keep happening for the rest of your life. I know who you are, and I would never want to change that. But I have competed for attention most of my life. With my mom and my dad, and now you. I’m tired of vying,” I stress. “I would like to be put first, just once.”
    I’m not trying to sound like a whiny two-year-old, but that’s just the reality of my life. I don’t feel unloved. I know my parents love me. But my mom takes ‘career driven’ to another level. I barely ever see her, and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember. When my father’s career picked up, it became the same way. He was constantly working, or filming, or cooking. And now that Kam is in the spotlight and the center of attention, it’s happening with him, too. I get it, but I’m starting to resent him, and I hate that. Because I love him, truly, with all my heart. But I love myself, too. It’s going to tear us apart eventually, so I’m just trying to make the split amicable. For all our sakes, especially his mother and my father, since they began dating shortly after Kam and I got together. Apparently, there was some leftover attraction from high school. You could almost see the sparks fly.
    “Laney, you are the most important person in my life.” The sincerity in his voice nearly has me reconsidering. Then his phone rings, ruining the moment. “Shit,” he mutters, as he looks at the screen. He’s conflicted about picking it up or continuing with this conversation. I know who’s calling him. It’s Sam the Magic Man, his agent, who calls him every freaking five seconds lately.
    “Go ahead, pick it up. Talk to him. I know you have to.” It’s part of the game. Kam is going to the NFL, and this is part of the path to get there.
    “Lemon, this isn’t over,” he says strictly, the phone ringing in his hand.
    “Yes, it is.” I start to walk away.
    “Lemon!” Kam raises his voice as I disappear into the kitchen. “Lemon!” The phone annoyingly rings again. “Lemon! Damn it! Hello.” I hear him snap just before the door swings closed behind me.

Three years later.
    Spring Semester, Senior year.

    I breathe in the spring air as I walk across campus. It’s early morning. Well, relatively. Being up at eight thirty is hellish for most college students but normal for me. I’ve already worked out, eaten breakfast, showered, and dressed. It’s just part of my routine—the routine I’ve followed since I stepped foot on this university three and a half years ago.
    I walk into the communications building and find room 202. I stop short when I see the last face I ever expected to see sitting in the third row playing on her phone. Her hair is pulled up into a tight bun with a few tiny red streaks standing out against the deep dark brown. She’s wearing cutoff shorts, a black T-shirt, and white Converse. The sight of her actually makes my heart palpitate. It still stings when I think about the day we broke up. “Let’s call this what it is . . . quits.”
    I never quit.
    I walk up and quietly slide into the desk next to her. “Well, well, well . . .” Laney looks up with just her eyes when she recognizes my voice. I think she’s just as thrown as I am. “What is an architect major doing in an eight thirty A.M. sports broadcasting class? On a Friday, no less?”
    She huffs and puffs as she cocks her head to look at me. “I needed a one credit class, and this the only one I could fit into my schedule.”
    “Uh-huh. Sure it wasn’t because you just wanted to see me?” I purposely tease her.
    “I can assure you, it wasn’t. If I wanted to see you, all I’d have to do is pick up the school newspaper, or go to their website, or turn on ESPN.”
    “None of those things compares to being seen in the