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growth on her chin or an awkward limp or even blah brown hair. Anything that would make me feel better about the look that is currently on Asher’s face.
    But when I turned around, I found that my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. In fact, what I saw was worse than I ever could’ve imagined.
    The girl staring back at my boyfriend was stunning. Like total glamazon, Victoria’s Secret model stunning . She had this whole hot runway thing going on. We were in the same league, only on total opposite sides of the spectrum.
    Where my long hair was the color of dark chocolate, this girl’s was a vibrant blonde. It hung in soft, loose waves around her face, which was equally stunning. Her skin was dewy and sun-kissed, and a perfect shade of pink streaked across her cheeks. With lips like two plump pillows completing her look, her face could’ve been plastered across billboards in Times Square.
    And with my luck, it already was.
    Before I could ask him about her, Asher stepped around me and crossed the room to where the girl was standing, frozen in place. They hesitated once they were within touching distance, but after a brief pause, they hugged.
    It was like I was witnessing a private moment between a couple, and out of habit, I let my eyes drift quickly to the ground.
    Wait a minute .
    This was my boyfriend I was watching hug another girl. I didn’t have to give them privacy.
    My eyes shot back up and I forced myself to take in every gut-wrenching detail of their embrace. Because that’s what it was like for me to see Asher touching someone else. It was painful. It didn’t matter that I had no idea who the girl was or that I knew in my heart that Asher loved me. The fact was, this horrible, soul-sucking sickness had begun in my stomach, and I had no idea how to deal with it.
    But, just like that, the hug was over, and they were once again standing a safe distance from each other. Of course, it still seemed too close for comfort for me.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Asher asked incredulously.
    â€œThis is my second summer at Brighton,” Brooklyn said, showing her perfect pearly whites as she smiled. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œMy aunt and uncle thought Abby and I should come,” he said.
    I noticed that he didn’t mention me or the rest of the Cleri.
    â€œSo you did go to stay with your aunt,” she said, slowly. “I’d heard that, but . . . well, I wasn’t sure.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Asher said, looking down at the ground and running his fingers through his hair. He did that when he was nervous . . . and when he was flirting. I couldn’t tell which it was in this particular moment, but I didn’t like it.
    â€œWho is this girl?” I asked myself quietly.
    â€œBrooklyn,” a voice answered from beside me. I started slightly before turning to see Abby standing there, a book in hand, but closed down by her side. “She’s Asher’s ex-girlfriend.”
    My heart dropped and hit the bottom of my stomach with an awful thud. Nausea crept up my throat before I could realize it was happening and I scanned the room for a bathroom to no avail. So I just stood there instead, frozen in disbelief.
    â€œHis . . . ex-girlfriend?” I asked, eyes wide. Then, almost to myself, I said, “I didn’t even know there was an ex . And she’s what . . . a supermodel ?”
    â€œNot a model. Just a witch,” Abby said as we watched Asher and Brooklyn’s reunion from afar.
    This was unbelievable. Sure, I guess in the back of my mind I’d known that Asher had to have had a past. I mean—look at him. He’s hot. But the subject of exes had never come up, so I thought he was like me, and hadn’t really had any relationships before ours that were significant enough to merit the term “ex.” And even if he had, who wanted to think of her boyfriend as having a love