The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)

“Are you confused over who you are?” I don’t really expect an answer, since he usually changes the subject whenever someone mentions his bad boy makeover.

His gaze elevates to mine and that let-me-hypnotize-you-with-my-eyes look is smoldering fiercely. “I was. It’s actually getting clearer now, though,” he says then immediately changes the subject. “Quick question, though. Why would Hannah put your certificate on your bed? Isn’t that kind of, in a way, helping you find your mom? Because that doesn’t seem like something Hannah would do.”

“It’s not really helping me, since it doesn’t have my mom’s name listed. I mean, I already know her first name is Bella, but only because my dad let it slip out to my grandma. And he was really mad when he did that.” I blow out a stressed breath. “So either this is Hannah’s way of rubbing in my face that I’m motherless, or maybe she thinks if she helps me find my mom, it’ll get rid of me.”

“Now that sounds like Hannah.” His gaze falls to my hand and he takes the certificate from me. “Mind if I hang onto this for a couple of days? I may know a guy that could help you with your search. I’m not sure what kind of information he needs, but I could give it a try.”

“You know, this is the third time you’ve said something very mafia-ish to me,” I point out. “You want to tell me something about you and these new friends of yours?”

“No way. That would take away all of my mystery.” His lips quirk as he looks at me. “Then I’d just be boring Kai again.”

“I kind of liked boring Kai.” I playfully nudge his foot with mine. “Well, sometimes anyway.”

“You never really knew him, Isa. No one really did.”

“I did a little, though.”

“Maybe a little,” he agrees, tucking the certificate into the back pocket of his jeans.

Well, I guess that’s that.

It makes me nervous to think about what he’s going to do with that piece of paper. Who’s this guy he’s going to talk to? And how could he find my mom without knowing more than her first name?

“Hurry and get changed and let’s hit up this party, so we can relax.” He backs toward the door, fishing his phone from his pocket.

Relax? Yeah, fat chance that’s going to happen. Now that someone in this house knows what I’ve been up to for the last week, there’s no way I’m ever going to be able to relax again.





THE HOUSE WHERE the party is at is way the hell out near the foothills, about a thirty minute or so drive from the suburbs where Kai and I live. For the first half of the drive, Kai and I argue about what song we should listen to. He wants to turn on his party song, which is pretty much just bass and dirty lyrics. When he turns the song on, my ears groan in protest, and I reach forward and snatch up his iPod.

“Hey.” Kai blasts me with a zombie rage, ‘I’m going to eat your brains out’ look. “I know you’re new to riding with me, so I’m going to tell you the rules as nicely as I can.” He extends his hand over the console to steal the iPod away from me, but misses. “No one, under any circumstances, ever gets to touch my stereo.”

Smirking, I line my back against the door so I’m out of his reach then quickly scroll through his songs.

“Isa,” he warns, his gaze dancing back and forth between the road and me as he drives down the busy street. “I’m being serious. I have issues with music.”

“Clearly.” I snicker as I note some of the songs he has on the device. “Dude, your music taste sucks. What happened to that obsession with 80s punk music? There aren’t any songs that are even close to punk.”

“I go through music phases.” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as his expression darkens. “And I’m super touchy about people insulting my current music taste.” He suddenly relaxes, shaking and rolling out his shoulders. “You know what? I’m going to let that one slide just as long as you put the iPod down.”

I quickly tap the folder labeled ‘For Your Eyes Only’, click the first song, and set the iPod down. A song by Violent Soho flows through the speakers and I smile. “Okay, this one’s not too bad.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. You turned on one of my private songs,” he says then grins and twists up the volume of the radio, singing along.

Private songs? God, I don’t even want to know what he does when he listens to those.

I laugh at my own thoughts and end up doing an awesome snort.

“What’s so funny?” Kai asks, giving me a curious, sidelong glance.

I swiftly shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

A grin creeps up his face. “You were thinking something dirty, weren’t you?”

“No, I was just thinking about . . . something.”