I don’t trust people, and for good reason. My parents kicked me out the second I turned eighteen, and my friends from high school or college all lost touch. No matter how close we get, how much they claim they love me, they always abandon me. The only person I can rely on is me, which is why I’ve built my own business from the ground up making bookish merch and accessories. So far, I’m hitting or exceeding all my goals and that’s all I need. If someone asked my family to describe me, one of the first words that would come up is “reliable.” That’s me, Honey Holloway, the girl who will get it done with a smile on her face. It’s easy to grin and pretend I’m fine with my parents being unconcerned with things like taxes and invoices and the “boring” parts of running our family apiary and farm. I too would like nothing more than to hang out with the bees all day, but someone has to keep this place together and make sure my siblings have a future. There is one person that I talk to though, and that’s Melliferal. We met online over a year ago and clicked right away over our shared love of books and fanfiction. After getting burned badly by another online friendship, I’m reluctant to share too much about myself, but she seems fine with that. I especially don’t tell her about the Holloway family, who have the table next to mine four days a week at the local marketplace. Most of my ire is reserved for Honey Holloway, specifically. There’s just something about her that drives me to distraction and it’s not just because she’s so beautiful she makes me want to punch myself in the face. I’ve just never met someone who looked so much like they ate sunshine and rainbows for breakfast every morning. It’s bizarre and intriguing and irritating and arousing. When I finally have a moment to myself, I talk to my online friend Bibliofile. She’s the only person who I feel like I can be honest with. Up to a point, though, because we don’t discuss any personal details. Even without knowing her real name, I’ve developed a raging crush on an internet stranger, and that’s on top of my IRL (hopeless) crush on Bren Hendrix. At least I know Bibliofile likes me, though. Bren so obviously doesn’t, but I’m not going to let that stop me. I’ve never seen someone who needs a friend more than Bren. She’s going to be mine, even if I have to bribe her with a million jars of hot honey spiced with jalapeños that I made myself.