Glitter: Enigma Models INC, #1

By Alyne Hart

I've loved Kellan Bellarose since we were ten. He's beautiful, damaged, and toxic AF. But he's mine.

Four years after tragedy tore us apart, we found each other again. Together we moved to LA to do something crazy and defy our humble beginnings. Our worlds were flipped on their axis when we both got signed by Enigma Models INC.

Then I met Luke St. James. He's sexy, slightly dangerous, and older than me. Like, a lot older than me, and will do anything to make me his
...and I am feeling things for him I thought I'd reserved for Kellan.

When Kellan's growing addictions get out of control, and my past gets exposed, I turned to Luke.

One night. One kiss. One tabloid.

And none of us will ever be the same.

 

Trigger Warning: domestic violence, abuse, drug use, cliffhanger 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyne Hart
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201678128

Alyne Hart

Alyne Hart is a contemporary romance author and wine connoisseur living in Walla Walla, WA. She's known for writing stories that pack an emotional punch and get you right in the feels.  She loves writing real, flawed characters and writing about realistic, gritty and raw romance. She's a romance junkie and happy endings addict, and if you’re a lover of deeply emotional, flawed and realistic romance reads with lots of delicious angst, her books are for you. Alyne's stories involve characters with bigger problems than just finding love. She writes stories about making peace with the past, rekindling old flames and healing old wounds. She loves small towns, men in uniform and alpha males with a heart of gold.  She began her story-telling journey first with her dolls, then it progressed to paper. She has a deep love for anything romantic, and she's a believer that in love anything is possible.  When Alyne isn’t writing, you can find her reading, hanging out with her cat, and spending time with her two children. She enjoys trips to the mountains just as much as trips to the wine cellar, live music, chick flick movie marathons and hanging out with her eclectic group of friends.  Follow Alyne: Facebook → http://bit.ly/2w89KNP Twitter → http://bit.ly/2w8kRqb Blog → http://bit.ly/2vxvmGy Goodreads → http://bit.ly/2vv8S8S Bookbub → http://bit.ly/2fyhncE Newsletter → https://mailchi.mp/a8a0de143ef8/alynehart

Book preview

Glitter Playlist

→ https://spoti.fi/3Dcl5OB

Frozen: Matti

Cherry Hill: Russ

Faded: ZHU

On Your Mind: Kaskade

Deep End: John Summit (SIDEPIECE remix)

Late Night: ODESZA

SAD: Imanbek (Rasster, Erin Bloomer remix)

Hands In The Sky: Straylight Run

BALENCIAGA: FILV

Lost And Found: ODESZA

Take Her Place: Don Diablo and ARIZONA

Make It Click: longlost

Don’t Look At Me: POORSTACY

Heatwaves: Glass Animals (Diplo remix)

The words ‘I love you’...

Simple yet complicated.

Complicated and sad.

Sad but true.

-  Ranata Suzuki

This book is dedicated to anyone with personal demons that made them lose their way. And to anyone who clawed their way to the surface to take a deep breath of air after hitting what felt like the bottom of the ocean. I love you. You are not alone.

1

A picture containing mask Description automatically generated

Miley: age ten

I was ten that summer. The summer that changed everything.

My mother moved the two of us into a tiny house in a brand new town. Our third house in two years. I’d gotten used to it. Not unpacking all my things. Trying to make new friends. I was used to re-packing my belongings into the cardboard boxes my mother kept in the garage, still labeled from previous moves.

It was feverish and sweltering that July day. The heat was not made any better with the gusting winds whipping across the valley that year. It was the kind of heat that rose from the asphalt like a radiator, blurring everything in thick, waving lines. A sudden burst of rain pushed through the skies that afternoon, and it seemed relief was finally here, though it only served to dampen the roads and create heavy, wet steam.

My mother liked that house because it had central air. It was something she often said with a quiet reverence. I suppose she was trying to make us both feel better about the move. Central air or not, my skin was damp with sweat, and my hair clung to the stickiness of my cheeks. I had to swipe it back with my hands to keep it from being plastered there too long.

She was at work that afternoon, and I knew the rules well. Stay inside. Don’t answer the door. Don’t use the stove, and don’t throw electrical items in the bathtub. My mother worked hard but couldn’t afford a babysitter. So I was alone. A lot.

I peered out my bedroom window, cloaked behind faded pink floral curtains, willing myself to not cry. I stared at the big white house across the street and wondered what life inside of it was like. It had to be just like on TV with a mom and a dad. Two children, one boy, and one girl. Maybe even a dog. I wondered if their mom baked Tollhouse cookies that smelled like heaven. They probably didn’t have to move all the time or know what it was like to feel so lonely.

However, even the pleasant daydream about the big white house was no use. The tears still came. Flinging myself in a heap across my bed, I fell asleep. My pillowcase was wet with tears, and I dreamt of my old bedroom and my old friends.

It was the silence that woke me sometime later. Or really, it was the lack of rain against the roof that, hours before, sounded like a herd of tiny elephants prancing overhead. I rubbed my eyes and peeked once more out my bedroom window to discover not only had the rain gone away, but the sun shone down on a still damp sidewalk.

Collecting all the stubs of chalk I could find scattered around my room, I tucked them into an empty Cool-Whip container and carried them outside.

Just because I knew the rules didn’t mean I always followed them.

That’s when I saw him.

Black hair, dark as an oil slick, just long enough to blow back carelessly in the wind. Long legs stretched in front of him, encased in faded, ripped jeans and an orange t-shirt about three sizes too big hanging from his thin shoulders. He played on a swing-set in his front yard, like any other kid on a Saturday might be doing. But there was something different about it. He wasn’t swinging for fun. That much was obvious. There was a purpose to it. A competition with the swing. His legs pumped back and forth, battling with the air for momentum. My curiosity got the better of me, and I stared at him openly.

His head snapped in my direction, and the full force of his bright blue glare landed on me like an icy dagger. My heart danced inside my chest like a scared rabbit.

Take a picture. It’ll last longer, he snapped.

"I’m not looking at you," I shot back bravely, despite the heat rising in my cheeks, prickling like a thousand needles piercing my skin. My gaze moved to the sidewalk in front of me, and I picked up a piece of red chalk, sliding it smoothly across the concrete.

The rabbit in my chest danced faster as I saw him cross the street from the corner of my eye. He stood behind me, watching me draw, and I ignored him.

Whatcha doin’? he asked, though it came out more like a demand.

I twisted my head to look up at him, unblinking, even against the brightness of the sun. If he was going to play tough, so would I.

What’s it look like? I asked. My lips twisted into a slight smile, proud of myself for my mother of all comebacks. He stared back just as hard. My spine sagged, and I caved. Reaching into the Cool-Whip tub, I retrieved a stick of chalk and held it out like a proverbial olive branch. Wanna do one?

He took it and said nothing, sitting beside me on the damp cement. The day passed quickly, and I peered up at the sky, trying to gauge time by the color of the setting sun. Wrinkling my nose in discouragement, I couldn’t tell if it had been half an hour or several. All I knew was that it was the two of us, quietly decorating the sidewalks for what felt like forever. He looked at me, brushing the shag of his dark hair from his forehead, and a slow smile crept across his lips.

You have chalk on your face, I giggled. Yellow and blue—

Yeah? He cut me off angrily. You have green chalk on your nose.

I bit my teeth between my lips. I wasn’t making fun of you.

My heart sank as his face went blank again, and he rubbed at his cheeks furiously with the backs of his hands. His stare burned a hole right through the sidewalk.

Are you hungry? I asked with a despondent sigh.

He nodded yes in response, still not looking at me. I stood, making my way to the front porch, turning after a few steps to see him still glaring into a rainbow he’d colored so happily just minutes before.

You coming or what? I called and waited for him to stand. He pulled himself slowly from the sidewalk and soon stood in the doorway, doing a visual scan of the small living room. I was suddenly ashamed of the old green couch, tattered curtains, and bare walls. It’s probably not as nice as yours.

He shook his head. No, it’s nice.

Nervous laughter spilled from my lips. I guess. Do you like tuna?

Hey, where’s your mom and dad? he blurted.

A wave of fiery heat raced across my skin.

I don’t have a dad. I shrugged, shaking my head. My mom is at work. We could— we could go to your house if the food is better?

I like tuna.

I put together two sandwiches, and we sat to eat in silence. He left the crusts on his plate, and when he wasn’t looking, I ate them in two mouthfuls, brushing the crumbs away before he could notice. Afterward, I led him down a narrow and dark hallway to my bedroom to show him my things. He seemed impressed with my drawings and didn’t mind that I chattered away while he snooped into every nook and cranny of my tiny space.

I told him all about my mom getting a job as a nurse's assistant at St. Mary’s and how it meant that she had to work a lot. I told him how sometimes I had to put myself to bed at night or get myself up for school in the mornings. I told him about our last two houses and how we’d just moved here a week ago. And I told him about the horrible man my mother had been dating before we came here.

He shared nothing in return, and I didn’t care.

The boy announced he should go home, his family expected him to be inside at nine, and I walked him to the front door.

Hey, what’s your name? I blurted as he darted across the lawn.

Kellan, he said, turning back towards me sullenly. What’s yours?

Amelia-Starr, but I hate it. Everyone calls me Miley.

Starr is cool. Like a shooting star. Kellan grinned. It was a massive, joyful grin. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Do you have a bike?

My head shook. No.

I’ll come back in the morning. I’ll bring my old one for you, so be ready.

I could barely contain the joy that suddenly filled me. Okay! Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kellan.

Good night, Shooting Star, he called over his shoulder.

Even now, I can still remember the excitement filling my chest and barely being able to sleep that night. I’d never made new friends very quickly. By the time I’d get around to making one or two, there was always the inevitable move to a new town. A new school. A new house. But now, it seemed my luck had changed.

After that day, it was just Kellan and me. Me and Kellan. Like peanut butter and jelly. We spent seemingly endless summer days roaming the streets on our bikes, taking adventures through abandoned train cars and old buildings. Kellan would knock on my window in the middle of the night, and we’d sneak out, taking moonlit bike rides where the roads in front of us seemed to disappear into the dark.

Kellan was intriguing. Like an enigma. He barely spoke, and half the time, I would think he was mad at me. But he always said I was the best friend he’d ever had, and I loved him in a way I’d never loved anyone before. I trusted him, knowing he would always be at my side. That was the promise we made, sitting by a pond right off the old highway. We clasped our pinkies together and swore our eternal friendship.

The presence of Kellan neatly filled the empty little hole in my heart. The lonely spot I’d had for so long was finally full. With Kellan, I could talk about anything. I told him about my mom and how she was never home. How all she did was take Tylenol and sleep, or yell at me for waking her up or for not doing the dishes right. How she always made me feel like I was something that annoyed her and that the only time she ever spent with me was when she had a new boyfriend she was trying to impress. I told him how all the men she brought home were awful, each in their own way.

Kellan never said much about his family. He didn’t have to. I could see it all for myself. Mostly I saw that his big beautiful house was a lie and how sad he was most of the time. And how the daydreams I had about that big white house were just that.

Daydreams.

2

Miley : age 14

Kellan stole his stepdad Jack’s Camaro that afternoon when he’d passed out drunk on the couch with the keys in his hand. Not that Kellan had a license or anything. He was always doing things like that, though­. Breaking the rules as often as he could. He loved it and said it made him feel alive. He called them adventures. Most called them crimes.

We went joy-riding all day until the sun began its descent behind the hills. Neither of us wanted to go home. At that point, Jack had to have woken up and realized what Kellan had done. But of course, Kellen didn’t care too much. He drove us around the winding country back roads surrounding the valley, rolling through stop signs and exceeding the speed limit. I rolled my window down, resting my cheek against the car door. Hot wind stung my face and made my hair fly like a wild, white flame around my head.

When I closed my eyes, let go, and took a deep enough breath of air, fragrant with freshly cut fields, and pavement wet from sprinklers, it felt like I was in another place. Another body, maybe. Kellan would be there, of course. I couldn’t imagine myself without him. We’d graduate high school, and we’d move out of this shit-hole town. Somewhere out in the country, perhaps. I could get a job as a waitress, and I’d make wisecracks for all my customers. Like those sassy ones on TV that made everyone laugh. Kellan would do something like working on cars, and I’d cook dinner for us every night. Or maybe we’d live in the city? I’d be an artist, and Kellan would wear a suit. He’d be so handsome in a suit.

I wondered if maybe someday we’d get married and even have children together. I didn’t think he thought of me like that, but perhaps, like me, he also couldn’t imagine it with anyone other than me. Maybe he wouldn’t be so angry all the time if we got away from here. Maybe he wouldn’t break so many rules or smoke so much weed and drink all the time.

When my eyes finally re-opened, I realized I must have drifted off to sleep because the sun was nearly set, and we were parked on a cliff overlooking the city. I took a deep breath and straightened myself up, wiping my lips with my hands to make sure I hadn’t drooled or anything. Beside me, Kellan was smoking, staring out the window in silence. One hand hung casually over the steering wheel with the remains of a joint balanced between his fingers, his eyes glowed electric like a blue pulse in the fading light. My door creaked quietly when I pushed it open, snapping Kellan out of his trance. He followed me, and we sat at the edge of the cliff. Neither of us said anything for a long time. We were both lost in the worlds that only existed in our minds.

My mom has a date tonight, I groaned, staring out at the sea of lights beneath our feet, glittering like a thousand stars.

Kellan cast a veiled glance in my direction, wrinkling his brow together. Really?

I nodded, gulping the distaste down. I know she says it’s just a date, but I know her. I’ve been through this too many times. I can’t do it again.

Hey. Kellan reached out, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. You don’t know. Maybe she won’t like him. Or maybe he’ll be nice.

I stared at the holes in the toes of my sneakers, blinking against the annoying tears gathering along my lashes. A sarcastic huff pushed between my lips.

"Have you met my mom? She’s like a  Bat-Signal for jerks. I’m never falling in love, Kellan. Ever. It’s so stupid."

Yeah, you will. It’s inevitable, like death.

I shook my head. Nope, never. I’m never even going to date. The whole thing is stupid.

No dates? He smirked, pulling his arm from my shoulders to retrieve a cigarette from his pocket. One hand snaked through the dark shag of hair hanging in his eyes, shoving it back from his forehead. No prom, no homecoming, no making out at the drive-in? Nothing?

Nope.

What if I asked you out?

He landed his ice-blue eyes on my light-brown ones, flicking his lighter and igniting the end of a Camel. As gross as it smelled, I liked watching him smoke. Mainly because it was the only thing that seemed to relax the constant state of tension he was in. My nose scrunched, though my heart slammed against my ribs as if it were desperate to escape my chest.

Kellan was the best-looking guy in school, and he knew it. He was all angles and hard lines that couldn’t be ignored. High cheekbones, as sharp as a razor blade. Gracefully sloped Roman nose and a wide jaw. Like most boys our age, he was gangly and thin but with broad shoulders to suggest he’d fill out soon. Sometimes I’d catch myself staring at him, though I tried to not let him see me doing it so he wouldn’t think I had some dumb crush on him like every other girl.

Actually, I stare at him because I’m in awe of him. Not that I don’t think he’s good-looking. Because he is. It’s just...Kellan does what he wants. He has a middle finger to the world attitude, and he actually doesn’t care what other people think of him. And no one ever challenges him either. Mostly because he has a reputation, and not a good one. But still, I envied that about him. In Kellan’s world, he’s invincible, and I know I am not.

No way,  I snorted as I laughed.

He let out a gruff chuckle as his eyebrows shot up. Smoke drifted from his nostrils in a white puff. Why not?

My nose wrinkled in disgust. "How many girls have you made out with just in the last month?"

A wicked grin replaced the look of shock. He shrugged it off and laughed. Dunno, a few, I guess.

A few? You’re disgusting, K. That’s why I’d never go out with you.

Rock paper scissors, you go out with me. His body twisted to face mine, and he took another long drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the dirt. He held his hands out to play. One hand opened with his palm up, the other balled into a fist on top of it.

I shook with laughter thinking it was a joke, but he was serious. I thrust my own hands forward with a gulp. I chose rock. He chose scissors. I chose paper. He chose rock. I chose paper again. He chose scissors.

Scissors cuts paper, he said earnestly, using two fingers in a cutting motion across my flattened hand. You have to go out with me.

But— I tried to contest his victory just as he leaned forward. The tender way his lips met mine, and the way his fingers trailed lightly down my cheek, were a stark contrast to the intensity of his always stone-hard jaw.

Something tingled low in my belly, like fire. It made my pulse quicken, and I swore I could hear Kellan’s heart beating through his t-shirt too. He tugged me closer, wrapping a hand around the nape of my neck as the other slid smoothly beneath the hem of my halter top. I kissed him back until he stuck his tongue in my mouth. I didn’t have a lot of experience like he did. Actually, I had none. But I knew enough to know what French kissing might lead to, especially with his hand squeezing my ribs.

Kellan, stop. I can’t. I pulled back, biting my lower lip between my teeth and trying to breathe. The dejected look on his handsome face made my heart sink into my stomach. It’s not—it’s not that I don’t like you...

S’alright. His expression went blank and hard again. I stared at him dumbly, trying to think of what I should say.  C’mere.

Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me down to the soft dirt where we lay together. I let myself relax into the warm crook of his shoulder, and we resumed our silence, staring up into a sea of glittering stars. Our breathing became part of the chorus of cicadas and the quiet way the wind drifted over us.

And just like that, it was just my Kellan and me. No weirdness. No kissing. Just the way it should be.

Do you think people can change? I asked.

Like how?

I shrugged, breathing in the way he smelled like sunshine and weed with just a hint of boyish sweetness. Just...change. Do you think people who’ve always done stupid things can start being smart?

Probably not. His head shook. That’s why I smoke. It cuts through the bullshit.

I laughed into his shoulder.

No, I think it makes you feel better about the bullshit. A loud exhale of air pushed through my lips. Do you think we’ll wind up like our parents?

We’ll never let that happen. We’ll keep each other in check. Always.

Promise?

Promise.

How many people do you think are laying down, just like us and watching the stars? I twisted my head to look at him just in time to catch the corners of his lips tilting upwards.

You’re on a trip today, Shooting Star. You need to chill. Kellan pressed his head harder against mine, and a small laugh escaped under his breath. He caved. Hundreds? Thousands, maybe?

I’d like to think it’s millions. I’d like to think that everyone can just lay on the ground and watch the stars and just be, I breathed out so quietly that my voice was a soft whisper carried by the breeze that hovered lightly over us.

Just be?

Yeah, I giggled. Like, not have to be so worried about things that don’t matter all the time, you know? Just existing. Just being. Like the way we do.

"Just be, he mused. Yeah, I like that. Stop being such over compensating assholes and live. Except, no one could survive, not being able to show off or brag on social media. I’m pretty sure the universe would fucking implode. It’s why I won’t use that shit."

Right? I laughed so hard my body shook. "How would the world go on if I couldn’t tell everyone about the McNuggets I ate today? Hashtag delish. Hashtag McLovin it."

Hashtag don’t give a McFuck, he added.

I reached across him, clasping his hand in mine tightly. I need it to always be like this, K. Promise me? No matter what, we’ll always be like this.

Kellan nodded, his cheek moving against mine. It will.

Maybe someday, I gulped against the pulse constricting my throat closed. But not now. I’m not ready.

I know, he said and gripped my hand harder.

I sighed, letting myself curl into him further as sleepiness washed over me. I love you.

I love you.

I yawned against his t-shirt