A Girl Like Me by Ginger Scott
Book 2 in the Like Us Duet
A mature YA romance, and a little something more…
Release day: May 26
I’m not supposed to be here.
Death has come for me more than once, and each time it’s been a boy who’s
stood between me and my final breath.
I called him Christopher when he saved me as a child. When he came into my
life again, only months ago, I knew him as Wes. Just as he did the time
before, he disappeared the moment he made sure I was out of harm’s way; as
if I didn’t need any more saving.
This time, though, death left me with a reminder of how powerful it is. I
know it meant to strip me of my spirit again, but it failed.
Even so, I know I need Wes to survive. Our souls are woven together
somehow, our every breath in sync. I feel it, even though everyone says I shouldn’t.
The world thinks he’s missing.
His loved ones don’t want to believe he’s dead.
Only I know just how special he is.
I’m going to find him and bring him home, where he belongs. Together, we’ll face impossible—we’ll rewrite our ending.
And when the bad guys come calling, we will always win.
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“Alright, well…I’ll be a few minutes, and at least we can get you into some fresh clothes,” I say, taking a step or two down the hall before pausing, tapping my fingers along the wall and looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes are waiting for me, and his lip is raised on the same side as mine. I let the energy of that one look settle into my chest and warm me from inside, then I head the rest of the way down the hall and shut the bathroom door behind me.
My eyes take in my reflection as soon as I rest my back against the door. I haven’t looked at myself in a long time, and the last time I did—the last time I really looked—I didn’t think the girl looking back at me was good enough. This girl, though—she’s strong. My mouth is still curved in the same smile I gave Wes, and it grows as I step closer to the sink, setting my clothes and phone on the counter.
My blonde hair has gotten lighter from the summer sun. It used to be dark and lifeless, hidden by late nights and a bedroom where I never once let the light in. It’s longer, too, the ends twisting down to my elbows. I lean in, studying the grayish blue of my eyes, which while they’ve never been bright and vivid like Wes’s, they are unique on their own. The color looks like a storm.
I no longer hate the freckles that sprinkle from one cheek to the other, and the pinkish tone of my cheeks, kissed by sun like my hair. My shoulders are bronze, and I tug my shirt sideways at the neckline and run my opposite finger along the light line drawn over it where the strap of my tank top has become a permanent pattern on my body.
My shoulders are strong, but still feminine. I lift my shirt up over my head, dropping it to the floor, and I run my hands down the front of my body, over my breasts to my stomach and hips, hooking my fingers in my shorts and underwear, dropping them to the floor as well. I look back up and take all of me in, at least to my waist where I can’t see below in the mirror.
Somehow, over the last six months, I’ve become something more than just a girl. I look at this person in the mirror, and she’s a woman. My leg is not perfect. My thighs are thick from running and working the muscles hard as I train. My nails are short from playing ball and chewing at them, and my skin is dotted with light bruising from workouts and missed grounders on the field. But my imperfections make me smile more.
I glance down where my phone lies by the sink, and I pull it into my palms and open a message to Wes. Without hesitation, I type what I feel right now. No second-guessing and no doubts or worries. Just this one thing that, while I’ve said it, I don’t think it’s been heard by him enough.
I love you, you know.
It’s exactly as he said it to me minutes ago, and I mean it with the same depth and emotion as he did. I set my phone down and watch the screen with a pounding heart, waiting for him to type something back, but instead, the bathroom door pushes open slowly.
They say everyone’s a superhero to someone. I’m not sure who I’m supposed to save, but I know who saved me.
We were kids. His name was Christopher. And up until the day he pulled me from death’s grip, he was nothing more than a boy I felt sorry for. In a blink of an eye, he became the only person who made me feel safe.
And then he disappeared.
Now I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been for years. While death didn’t take me that day, the things that happened left me with scars—the kind that robbed me of everything I once loved and drove me into darkness. But more than anything else, that day—and every day since—has taken away my desire to dream.
I wasn’t going to have hope. I wouldn’t let myself wish. Those things—they weren’t for girls like me. That’s what I believed…until the new boy.
He’s nothing like the old boy. He’s taller and older. His hair is longer, and his body is lean—strong and ready for anything. I don’t feel sorry for him. And sometimes, I hate him. He challenges me. From the moment I first saw him standing there on the baseball field, he pushed me—his eyes constantly questioning, doubting…daring. Still, something about him—it feels…familiar.
He says his name is Wes. But I can’t help but feel like he’s someone else. Someone from my past. Someone who’s come back to save me.
This time, though, he’s too late. Josselyn Winters, the girl he once knew, is gone. I am the threat; I am my worst enemy. And he can’t save me from myself.
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About the Author:
Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, Wild Reckless, Wicked Restless, In Your Dreams, The Hard Count, Hold My Breath, and A Boy Like You.
A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.
When she’s not writing, the odds are high that she’s somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork ’em, Devils).
Social Media Links:
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/GingerScottAuthor