All the Worlds Between Us Read online

  Seventeen-year-old Quinn Hughes needs to be in top shape if she wants to medal at the swimming World Championships in ten months. This means no easy distractions, no matter how pretty they are.

  She’s still piecing her confidence back together after not qualifying for the Olympics, her relationship with her twin brother is getting worse the more he hangs out with the popular kids, and then Kennedy Reed suddenly squeezes herself back into Quinn’s life. The girl who was her best friend. The girl who gave Quinn her first kiss. The girl who hasn’t spoken to her since.

  Soon, Quinn finds herself juggling her new girlfriend, training for the biggest competition of her life, and discovering she’s not the only Hughes twin with a crush on Kennedy Reed. All these distractions are getting to her, and if she wants that medal she needs to find a way to stop drowning on dry land.

  All the Worlds Between Us

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

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  All the Worlds Between Us

  © 2019 By Morgan Lee Miller. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-456-4

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: May 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Barbara Ann Wright

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Jeanine Henning

  For Karlee—who I promised I would dedicate my first book to when we were twenty years old.

  And Julie—who read this story three times in its draft stages because I forced her to.

  Thank you both for not only being my first readers to all my stories’ drafts but for also being constant rocks in my life.

  Chapter One

  Maneuvering my way through a crowd of hundreds of people heading in the opposite direction was as hard as the four miles I just swam.

  The football game just ended, and as everyone celebrated another win on their walk to the parking lot, I ran against the current of spectators to where my twin brother said he would meet me after the game. Liam and I were forced to share the Camry, and my parents gave me the rights during the week because of my strict swimming schedule for the world championships in ten months. This was more of an inconvenience for Liam than it was impressive because that meant he couldn’t get the car until the weekend, and if anything infringed on his Camry time, he turned into a petulant child.

  And my being late meant that he would turn into a bratty seven-year-old whose toy was taken away from him.

  So I sprinted faster to avoid his wrath.

  When I finally emerged from the crowd, I spotted Liam with two of his friends, Gabriel Báez and Tom Felix. All three of them tall, built, and wearing their emerald green letterman jackets: a symbol of their popularity and top spot on the high school totem pole. Liam and Tom stood with tight crossed arms, and I knew then that it didn’t matter how fast I ran through a crowd moving at a sloth’s pace, it still wasn’t fast enough for Liam. His pissed-off scowl was detailed on his face.

  “There’s my favorite mermaid,” Gabriel said and flashed me the warm smile he always gave me.

  “Gabriel, I just swam a bajillion miles,” I said. “Carry me to the Camry, my prince.”

  “Yes, my queen.”

  His six-two self squatted down to my five-nine height. Taking a deep breath of the wonderful smell of his freshly used body wash, I jumped on his back, and he caught me by the hamstrings.

  “Onward!” I said with a direct point to the parking lot.

  Liam and Gabriel had been best friends since kindergarten. He lived a few blocks down the street from us. Even though Liam and Gabriel were way more popular than I was, he remained the levelheaded jock who was always loyal to his longtime friends, no matter how late I was at meeting them at the stadium gates. He was my platonic boyfriend, we’d both declared sophomore year. He was the only boy I knew I would ever love.

  Platonically, that is. Let’s not get too carried away now.

  “Really, Quinn? Fifteen minutes late?” Liam said, breaking the moment I had with my pseudo-boyfriend. His voice was sharp and pissy.

  “I’m sorry! Practice ran a little over—”

  “Let me guess: Hot Lifeguard was working again?”

  I hesitated. “No…”

  “Okay, so we’re all late to our party because you had to talk to Hot Lifeguard?”

  “Hey, I was on my way out, and she came up to me, twirling her hair and everything. I was just an innocent bystander—”

  “Nice,” Gabriel said and put a fist up in the air for me to bump it. Of course, I accepted. I was proud of the progress I just made with Hot Lifeguard. She’d been working at the pool since the summer, and now it was the second week in October, and she finally had a conversation with me. While twirling her hair. A college girl was twirling her hair over me. That was an important detail. With this monumental step, I could probably find out her name by next week.

  “I told Cassandra we were gonna be there with the booze at nine sharp.” Liam continued his conniption. “Now we don’t have time to drive you home.”

  “I’m not going to that party if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

  No part of me wanted to go to Cassandra Jones’s house. She was the meanest girl in our class, which apparently was the only qualification you needed to become captain of the soccer team. She was especially mean to me for reasons I couldn’t even tell you, and for whatever reason, she was Liam’s upcoming homecoming date. Men and their thing for snarky girls.

  “Should have sprinted faster then, Miss Olympics,” Tom said in his douchey tone.

  “You should too, then; maybe you’d actually start for once,” I said.

  Gabriel let out his contagious cackle that made me smile, and Tom flipped me off. Tom was Liam’s worst friend. He loved rubbing in the fact that I missed qualifying for the Olympics by three seconds any time the opportunity presented itself. Popular people loved making others feel less than they really were. That was why I couldn’t go to that party. Tom wasn’t even the worst person in Liam’s friend group. The girls’ soccer team was a whole team of Toms.

  “Liam, I’m sorry,” I continued. “But I can’t go to her party. That’s basically asking to be picked on the whole night. Can you drive me home, please, and I’ll pay for gas next time? I promise.”

  I hopped off Gabriel’s back and threw my swimming bag in the trunk when we reached the Camry.

  “You get the car four days out of the week,” he said. “I only get the weekend, so no, I’m not gonna cater to you and ruin my time with the car. If you don’t wanna come, then go get Hot Lifeguard to drive you home. The world doesn’t revolve around you just because you’re training.”

  “It will literally take you ten minutes to drop me off.”

  “Nope. It’s out of the way. Not driving you home.”

  “I’m not even dressed for a party. My hair is wet, and I smell like pool.”

  I was also in my swimming nationals T-shirt I got from the year before, black Nike track sho
rts, and flip-flops. My hair was in a damp messy bun, and my skin reeked of fresh chlorine. The kids Liam associated with were all deeply rooted in Aspen Grove’s affluent suburban lifestyle of designer clothes, luxury cars, and snooty attitudes. The party would be comprised of the girls’ soccer team plus the football guys.

  Like hell I was going to that party.

  “I’ve been up since four thirty. I’m so tired and—”

  “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

  He got in the car without giving me a chance to argue back.

  Liam was either a really cool twin brother or a major douche. He was hanging out with the soccer team and his football friends way too much. It didn’t help that he was super popular, and I was that freak at school with chlorine-dried hair and skin and who dedicated all my free time to training rather than socializing with my friends like a normal high school kid. I really hated seeing my brother turn into a prick just so he could impress his friends and girls. I was always the one who got the brunt of it.

  “I’ll punch anyone who gives you a hard time,” Gabriel whispered to me. “And even smelling like pool, you’ll still be the prettiest girl at the ball.”

  Gabriel gave me a wink, and we both slipped into the back of the car.

  It was the first time I’d ever been to Cassandra Jones’s house; I could have gone my whole life never stepping foot inside it and died a completely happy woman. But at least I finally understood why Liam and his friends were always over there. Cassandra’s parents were both doctors who worked at the hospital. Oftentimes they worked nights, and as a result, their daughter threw house parties. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Jones. As they were saving lives, their house turned into a haven for the high schoolers.

  The house was gorgeous. Big. Beautiful. Open floor plan. All hardwood floors. Decorated with furniture Mrs. Jones collected from all over the world. Their precious daughter converted the mahogany dining room table into a beer pong table because “it’s the perfect length,” Gabriel said. Liam told me that the couch in the family room was made of Spanish leather. As we walked through the living room, I found the whole soccer team on that couch, decked out in their green Aspen Grove varsity soccer T-shirts with green and yellow Mardi Gras beads around their necks and school colors in different designs on their faces. Their hair and makeup were decked out even more than the school day because a weekend outing was practically like going to a gala. Each girl had a drink in her hand, and every one of them eyed me carefully as I trailed a few paces behind my brother.

  They knew I didn’t belong in this house. And I agreed with them.

  “What the hell is she wearing?” I’m almost positive I heard one girl whisper.

  “Gabriel and Liam probably dragged her,” a second voice said.

  “Right out of the pool?”

  “Talk about a fish out of water,” Cassandra’s very distinct voice said.

  I wanted Gabriel to hurry up with his beer so I could cling to him and hope all the banter about me would end. No one would make any comments with him right next to me because all those girls had crushes on him and would swallow their opinions about me rather than lose a chance at dating him.

  But I currently had to wait for my bodyguard to finish shot-gunning his beer with seven other senior guys in the kitchen. The beer dripped down their faces and onto their shirts as the three of them chugged whole cans. A group of guys chanted like frat brothers for the three to drink faster. Gabriel was the first to finish, and a few soccer girls cheered for him from the fancy leather couch. Complete suck-ups.

  Watching all those guys attempt to be masculine by chugging crappy Bud Light was the most unappealing thing my eyes had seen in a while. And then Tom let out a loud belch, and that was a done deal. Sold to Aspen Grove High’s tight end who didn’t know the difference between there, their, and they’re. Tom’s whole being won the award for the most unappealing thing my eyes had ever seen. The amount of disgust I felt was strong enough to probably clear my skin for the rest of senior year.

  I never felt gayer until that exact moment.

  “Quinn, let’s play beer pong,” Gabriel said, attempting to give me his heartwarming, dark brown puppy eyes for extra convincing. “You and Liam versus me and Tom. Show this loser how athletic you are and pulverize him to a pulp.”

  “I don’t think the athletic skills I have contribute that much to beer pong.”

  “Yeah, Quinn!” Liam said. “One game. I always wanted to dominate beer pong with my twin.”

  “Why should I be your partner when you threw a hissy fit a half hour ago? You don’t even care that your homecoming date is out to get me.”

  He waved her off as if her bark was worse than her bite, but he didn’t even hear the comments she’d already made. “She won’t bother you.”

  “If I play, then we leave in an hour. Sharp. All debts paid.”

  He groaned. “Fine! If it gets you to shut up about it.”

  “Wow, you’re seriously going to have a beer?” Gabriel said, suddenly even more excited. “Damn! This is, like, the first time I’ve ever seen you drink.”

  “Two summers ago, she puked in Lana Banner’s pool,” Liam said.

  I slapped him hard on the arm, and he let out a yelp. “I didn’t puke in her pool. I puked in her bushes, and that was the first and only time I’ve been drunk, and it was because I was mourning the fact that I missed the Olympics.”

  “I’m still excited for this,” Gabriel said, “and honored I get to be a part of it.”

  As Liam and Tom set up the red Solo cups on the table, I already regretted the alcohol I had yet to consume. Two years ago, as a fifteen-year-old, I made it to the finals of the Olympic trials in the 200-meter and the 400-meter freestyle. I took sixth place and eighth place, respectively. Only the top two advanced to the Olympics. I was absolutely heartbroken I’d come so close and then missed the games by three seconds. It felt like a breakup. I sulked for two weeks in my room, refused to watch any of the London Olympics, and cried, bitched, then cried some more.

  Then it hit me, I wasn’t accomplishing anything during those two weeks I pitied myself. If anything, the more I stayed in bed, the more out of shape I became. So, by the end of the London Olympics, I came up with a plan. I had to go all in and exert all the time, energy, and dedication in order to accomplish my dream. That meant sacrificing parts of my social life: being the one friend in the group who missed a lot of the weekend hangouts, especially in the summer. I needed to really give it my all and let nothing get in the way because in order for me to make it to the Olympics, I’m pretty sure there was a quota for blood, sweat, and tears. It seemed to work because the following summer—right after sophomore year—I went to my first ever world championships in Barcelona, placing seventh overall in my 400-free. Just a month and a half ago, I was in Australia, finishing fourth in my 200-free at the Pan Pacific Games, and now, I was all in for winning my first medal at the world champs in Russia in ten months.

  So, that meant anything that would get me arrested or mess me up physically, emotionally, or mentally was absolutely forbidden. No high impact activities. No getting into any serious relationships with a girl (but a fling or a quick hookup with Hot Lifeguard was completely okay). And that meant no drinking.

  But I was stuck in the house of a girl who hated my guts, I got weird stares and whispers from the whole soccer team, and I was going to humiliate myself by playing beer pong for the first time ever with all the popular kids who could make it to the Beer Pong Olympics.

  Yup. I needed a beer. Just one beer.

  I quickly learned that if you sucked at beer pong, you didn’t just have one beer, and you didn’t just casually sip on it. Liam and I lost the game in ten minutes because we sucked that badly. Tom and Gabriel made at least one cup each round. Liam had about a 30 percent conversion rate, and I hit the rim every time and didn’t make a single cup. Insert many failed Olympic jokes and many butt sex jokes by Tom and a few spectators. I was supposed to drink three of thos
e cups, per the rules of beer pong, but I only drank one and gave Liam the other two. Someone had to drive, right? Maybe I can use this moment of irresponsibility as a reason to get the car next week for homecoming. Liam didn’t seem to mind at all about drinking my beers, but Tom sure did. He called me vanilla, which garnered a few laughs from the people watching us, specifically Cassandra.

  “If you’re not even gonna drink, then go away so others can play,” she said to me but directed it at her friends.

  She was lucky I never aimed the ping-pong ball at her face.

  After the game and all the mocking, I took that as my cue to just leave the scene altogether and find the bathroom and hide there until midnight. The first-floor bathroom door was closed, but light seeped through the crack into the long, quiet hallway. I expected someone to say they were in there when I knocked on the door. But just like I hoped for, I heard nothing but silence. So, I opened the door, eager just to sit, pee out all the beer, and play on my phone to pass some time alone. But when I flung the door open, I discovered Kennedy Reed resting her back against the wall, sitting with her knees tucked into her chest next to the toilet. Her dark green soccer shirt enhanced her bright green eyes, and green and yellow paint faintly colored her pale face and triangle-shaped jaw. Through her glazed eyes, she looked right at me, giving me a look as if I was the monster who’d haunted her nightmares.

  And maybe I was because Kennedy Reed used to haunt mine.

  I slammed the door shut.

  She was a stranger who knew everything about me. Yet we hadn’t looked each other in the eye in four years. Until that moment in Cassandra Jones’s bathroom.

  Once my heart went back to normal beating speed, I slowly opened the door. A burning pain in my stomach intensified when I noticed her giving me the same shocked look back. I couldn’t tell you why I was so surprised to see her. In the back of my mind, I knew she would be at the party since she was the goalie for the soccer team. Maybe I was more shocked because she actually looked me straight in the eyes.