Love by @((Y^!@ Allyvia (best ebook reader for laptop txt) 📕

Looking through the Piepers' family photo album, you'd see many pictures:

Veronica and Eric playing in the sand, their toddler fingers still chubby and uncoordinated, Ronnie's blond curls tied back with a pink ribbon.

Ronnie and Eric acting in Mrs. Cole's second grade production of the Princess and the Pea, Eric being the prince-- in a red and gold beaded cheap child's costume-- and Ronnie's golden hair in a long braid that trailed down to her butt, wearing a pretty flowy pink princess dress. Even then, Eric's mother thought the two made a handsome couple.

Ronnie and Eric playing baseball.

Picture this:

Veronica Pieper tied her blond hair back with a ponytail, and squinted against the bright, UV rays that made her freckled skin tinge pink. The small church softball field smelled like chalky dust and baseball glove leather, and the old chain-link fence rattled behind her as she made her way up to bat. Adjusting her baseball cap so it covered her frizzy golden bangs, Ronnie narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the baseball bat.

Ronnie stared at Eric, waiting for him to pitch the ball, hard and fast and sending a 'woosh' of air towards her. Eric, his dark hair covered by a blue baseball cap, met her eye contact, trying to look intimidating and manly, even though he was only thirteen.

Ronnie watched in anticipation as Eric began his wind up, his body curling into itself like he was on self-destruct. Eric's muscular, tan arm whipped around like a windmill, and released the ball with as much might as he possessed.

Veronica, her eyes growing wide like saucers as the ball came flying towards her, stared at the ball, suddenly terrified. Saying a quick prayer and squeezing her eyes shut, Veronica swung the bat, a satifying 'crack' ringing in her ears and resulting in the ball flying far over Eric's head.

Staring in disbelief, Eric stumbled and fumbled to get a good running start as he chased after the ball. Wayne Pieper, blinking in shock, scrambled after the ball also. Ronnie just stood there, paralyzed and disbelieving of her eyes.

"Go, Veronica," Lisa Pieper cried from the stands, chuckling at her daughter's shocked face. Ronnie, as though just clueing in, began running, her skinny pale legs carrying her quickly against the wind.

"Go, Ronnie," Edward Kingston yelled, laughing with Ronnie's father while they finished grilling.

That summed up almost every night of the summer before eighth grade. The Kingstons and Piepers would gather, whether it be at one of their houses or the local diners or the softball diamonds, together like one big family. It was simply the only way of life they knew.

Fast forward two years, and suddenly Eric and Ronnie are going to homecoming together, later announced 'the cutest freshman couple'. Ronnie-- wearing a midnight blue, floor length gauzy dress-- smiles fakely as both their parents encourage them to get a snapshot kissing. They stand in front of the brick mantle, and cling to each other convincingly, like they were survivors from a shipwreck.

Kissing Eric was like kissing your brother.

Eric was handsome, a shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair hanging in his pretty ocean blue eyes, and was still so much taller than her. His tan skin looked like sunshine against pale, freckled winter snow, and his fake smile was much more convincing. The skin on his face, on his cheeks, was rough in Ronnie's hands as her mother clicked a snapshot of Ronnie gazing adoringly into his eyes, like they were on the cover of an old romance novel.

Ronnie, letting her mother capture one more picture of her lips pressed against Eric's, knew pretending to be in love with him was much easier than admitting to her parents the truth.

Veronica had just finished the stack of pancakes on her plate when she heard the familiar honking of Eric's car in the driveway. Her mother, a dizzying tornado of red hair and anxiety, barreled into the kitchen, just as Ronnie finished drinking her orange juice.

"Veronica, Eric's waiting at the door," she cried, gathering the dirty soccer socks Ronnie's older brother Wayne had left lying on the floor, and dove for the phone as soon as its shrill cry rang through the bustling kitchen. Juggling the basket of socks in one hand, the phone tucked into her shoulder, Lisa Pieper somehow still managed to flip the rest of the pancakes that were beginning to brown on the gridle. Ronnie sighed.

"Tell him I'm almo-"

Just then, Wayne and Eric came into the kitchen, laughing at something funny Eric said. Eric always said funny things. Of course Wayne had let Eric into the house, Ronnie thought irritatedly, everyone loved when Eric was over.

Wayne, his hair the same fiery shade as his mother's, was shorter than Eric, even though he was graduating in the spring. He had the same freckled, pale skin and light, mint green eyes as Ronnie, though.

"Hey, look what the mailman dropped off," Wayne joked, nudging Eric playfully. Eric laughed politely, before catching Ronnie's eye and crossing the kitchen to place a kiss on her forehead. Eric is always so polite, she thought, trying not to let the annoyance in her head show on her face.

"Surprised?," he whispered in her ear, grinning like a Cheshire. Lisa, who took the time out of her telephone conversation to fawn over the two, smiled as she watched. Ronnie fought the urge to roll her eyes, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Hardly. We should go, before we're late for class," she suggested, reaching for her bag until Eric grabbed it for her. Ronnie, plastering on another fake smile, took his hand and hugged her mother goodbye. "I'll be back right after Eric's baseball practice."

"That's fine, dear," Lisa mouthed, hugging her daughter before grabbing the spatuala, and went back to her conversation with Mrs. Henderson about the night's PTA meeting. After one more sip of orange juice, and Eric's hand resting right on the small of her back, Ronnie made her way through the house, right to the front door.

Only after they had settled into Eric's Buick did he release her hand and throw her her bookbag. He dropped the nice guy facade quickly, and glanced over at her void expression. Ronnie, glancing at the cup holder to see the familiar Starbucks cup just for her, smiled.

"Ronnie," he sighed, giving her a teasingly questioning grin, "when are we breaking up, again?"

Great, Ronnie thought, the perfect question to start the day. As they pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, Ronnie laughed over the engine at the thought, gave him a 'get-real' look. "Eric, I can't tell them we 'broke up' and that I didn't get into Harvard in the same week. They'd have an anurysm. And then, your parents would have one because my parents had one."

Sighing, Ronnie leaned her head on his shoulder. Even just speaking of the unforesaken rejection letter that was hiding under her pillow made Ronnie want to crawl under a rock. Her brother was going to Princeton next fall; Eric was looking at Dartmouth and Barden University. And Veronica? She was looking at Feldman's, an art school in upstate New York.

"Right," he chuckled, giving her another strange look, "so when are we going to break up....?"

Veronica shrugged. "I don't know... how about after prom? We could go, and then, a few hours later, I could come home crying about how you 'pressured me' or something," she suggested, putting quotes around the words 'pressured' and 'me', before grabbing her Starbuck cup and taking a sip.

"Yeah... about that," Eric sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I, uh... Look, my parents asked if we had sex.... Wait, why do I have to be the bad guy?!"

Ronnie, her eyes widening in disbelief, dribbled the hot coffee back into her cup to keep from spewing it all over the front seat. "You told them we had sex," she cried in disbelief, punching his shoulder harshly. As Eric turned onto Olive Street, he took the time to raise his hands in defense.

"Well, we've been 'dating'," he insisted, "for almost three years. I mean, if I told them we haven't.... It's not a big deal, Ronnie, really. The worst-"

"Shit," Ronnie cried, interrupting him, loudly and made him jump, "Eric, my parents are going to find out we had fictional sex! My dad's probably going to hand me a box of fucking condoms and tell me to be careful... Jesus," she sighed, pulling her wild, curly blond hair into a ponytail and squeezing her eyes shut. She could not believe this. Maybe it was a bad dream, she told herself, trying her best to sound consoling.

"Hey, we could always fix that problem and have a go at it in the backseat," Eric suggested, shooting her a naughty grin. Ronnie just rolled her eyes.

"In you dreams, Bud," she grumbled. Eric, raising his brows in disbelief, wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they pulled into the parking lot of Hamilton High School.

"You're seriously that upset about your parents thinking we had sex," he asked, parking the car in their usual spot, before unbuckling his seat and looking her in the eyes.

Eric was very handsome. After years of football, which his father was so proud of; baseball, which Ronnie's father was so proud of; swimming, which all of her friends would fawn over, Eric was muscular. And he was always tan, his skin like gold against Veronica's. He had the bluest eyes Veronica had ever seen, and a dimple in his right cheek.

Staring into those blue eyes, Ronnie sighed. "Eric... they're probably planning our wedding. Doesn't that... bug you?"

Eric chuckled and pat her shoulder playfully. "Hey, at least I can say my wife is a hottie. Now, come on, Future Mrs. Kingston, we'll be late for our first block," he teased, placing a very convincing kiss smack on her mouth, even though the words 'Future Mrs. Kingston' made Ronnie feel just a bit woozy.

Kate Summers watched from beneath her glasses, as Eric Kingston pulled into Hamilton High's parking lot, sighing in utter adoration. He was gorgeous. No, gorgeous was too bland of a word. She could just picture herself being eveloped in those muscular, tan arms, which could probably bench press her weight. Kate, despite her inner battle not to, had been taking not so secretive glances at his stomach muscles during the summer, when he and Veronica would parade around the public pool like they owned it. And, he