Maybe Someday

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From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Hopeless.

At twenty-two years old, Sydney is enjoying a great life: She’s in college, working a steady job, in love with her wonderful boyfriend, Hunter, and rooming with her best friend, Tori. But everything changes when she discovers that Hunter is cheating on her—and she’s forced to decide what her next move should be.

Soon, Sydney finds herself captivated by her mysterious and attractive neighbor, Ridge. She can’t take her eyes off him or stop listening to the way he plays his guitar every evening out on his balcony. And there’s something about Sydney that Ridge can’t ignore, either. After their inevitable encounter takes place, Sydney and Ridge find themselves needing each other in more ways than one.

Colleen Hoover is the New York Times bestselling author of Slammed, Point of Retreat, Hopeless, This Girl, and Losing Hope. Colleen lives in Texas with her husband and their three boys. Please visit ColleenHoover.com.

Marketing/Publicity

Author appearances: tk • National print review and feature campaign • Local and online publicity • Cross promotion with colleenhoover.com, Facebook.com/AuthorColleenHoover, and @ColleenHoover • SimonandSchuster.com feature • Online promotions and features, including twitter contests, SpreeCast and/or Shindig online chats

Atria Paperback

On Sale March 18, 2014 • 978-1-4767-5316-4 • $15 U.S./$17 Can

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Nonmerch9781476760322. Uncorrected Proof. Not for Sale. Please do not quote for publication without checking the finished book. Further information available on copyright page.

maybe someday

Also by Colleen Hoover

Slammed

Point of Retreat

Hopeless

This Girl

Losing Hope

Finding Cinderella

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Colleen Hoover

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ISBN 978-1-4767-5316-4

ISBN 978-1-4767-5317-1 (ebook)

Dedication to come?

special content

You will find lyrics throughout this book. To listen to the songs, please visit this website TK, or scan the QR code below. To do so, download the free Microsoft Tag app. Then hold your phone’s camera a few inches away from the tag, and enjoy what comes next. You can also visit pages.simonandschuster.com/TK to access this content.

[QR CODE TK]

maybe someday

prologue

Sydney

I just punched a girl in the face. Not just
any
girl. My best friend. My roommate.

Well, as of five minutes ago, I guess I should call her my
ex
-roommate.

Her nose began bleeding almost immediately, and for a second, I felt bad for hitting her. But then I remembered what a lying, betraying whore she is, and it made me want to punch her again. I would have if Hunter hadn’t prevented it by stepping between us.

So instead, I punched
him
. I didn’t do any damage to him, unfortunately. Not like the damage I’ve done to my hand.

Punching someone hurts a lot worse than I imagined it would. Not that I spend an excessive amount of time imagining how it would feel to punch people. Although I am having that urge again as I stare down at my phone at the incoming text from Ridge. He’s another one I’d like to get even with. I know he technically has nothing to do with my current predicament, but he could have given me a heads-up a little sooner. Therefore, I’d like to punch him, too.

Ridge: Are you OK? Do u want to come up until the rain stops?

Of course, I don’t want to come up. My fist hurts enough as it is, and if I went up to Ridge’s apartment, it would hurt a whole lot worse after I finished with him.

I turn around and look up at his balcony. He’s leaning against his sliding-glass door; phone in hand, watching me. It’s almost dark, but the lights from the courtyard illuminate his face. His dark eyes lock with mine and the way his mouth curls up into a soft, regretful smile makes it hard to remember why I’m even upset with him in the first place. He runs a free hand through the hair hanging loosely over his forehead, revealing even more of the worry in his expression. Or maybe that’s a look of regret. As it should be.

I decide not to reply and flip him off instead. He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, as if to say,
I tried
, and then he goes back inside his apartment and slides his door shut.

I put the phone back in my pocket before it gets wet, and I look around at the courtyard of the apartment complex where I’ve lived for two whole months. When we first moved in, the hot Texas summer was swallowing up the last traces of spring, but this courtyard seemed to somehow still cling to life. Vibrant blue and purple hydrangeas lined the walkways leading up to the staircases. The fountain affixed in the center of the courtyard saw a steady stream of youthful visitors.

Now that summer has reached its most unattractive peak, the water in the fountain has long since evaporated. The hydrangeas are a sad, wilted reminder of the excitement I felt when Tori and I first moved in here. Looking at the courtyard now, defeated by the season, is an eerie parallel to how I feel at the moment. Defeated and sad.

I’m sitting on the edge of the now empty cement fountain, my elbows propped up on the two suitcases that contain most of my belongings, waiting for a cab to pick me up. I have no idea where it’s going to take me, but I know I’d rather be anywhere except where I am right now. Which is, well, homeless.

I could call my parents, but that would give them ammunition to start firing all the
We told you so’s
at me.

We told you not to move so far away, Sydney.

We told you not to get serious with that guy.

We told you if you had chosen prelaw over music, we would have paid for it.

We told you to punch with your thumb on the
outside
of your fist.

Okay, maybe they never taught me the proper punching techniques, but if they’re so right all the damn time, they
should
have.