THE NOVEL THAT INSPIRED ROSALINE —NOW A HULU MOVIE From the New York Times bestselling author of One Italian Summer and In Five Years comes an intensely romantic modern recounting of the greatest love story ever told—narrated by the girl Romeo was supposed to love. What’s in a name, Shakespeare? I’ll tell you: everything. Rosaline knows that she and Rob are destined to be together. Rose has been waiting for years for Rob to kiss her—and when he finally does, it’s perfect. But then Juliet moves back to town. Juliet, who used to be Rose’s best friend. Juliet, who now inexplicably hates her. Juliet, who is gorgeous, vindictive, and a little bit wild...and who has set her sights on Rob. He doesn’t stand a chance. Rose is devastated over losing Rob to Juliet. This is not how the story was supposed to go. And when rumors start swirling about Juliet’s instability, her neediness, and her threats of suicide, Rose starts to fear not only for Rob’s heart, but also for his life. Because Shakespeare may have gotten the story wrong, but we all still know how it ends. Rebecca Serle is the New York Times bestselling author of Once and Again , Expiration Dates , One Italian Summer , In Five Years , The Dinner List , and the young adult novels The Edge of Falling and When You Were Mine . Serle also developed the hit TV adaptation Famous in Love , based on her YA series of the same name . She is a graduate of USC and The New School and lives in Los Angeles with her husband and daughter. Find out more at RebeccaSerle.com. Scene One Scene One “This is so not how it was supposed to go.” I crack one eye open and sneak the covers down over my head. Charlie is standing above my bed, arms crossed, a bag of Swedish Fish in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other. I blink and glance at the clock on my nightstand: 6:35. “Jesus. It’s the middle of the night.” Charlie lets out a dramatic sigh. “Please. I’m ten minutes early.” I rub my eyes and sit up. It’s already light out, but that’s not too surprising, given that it’s August in Southern California. It’s also hot, and the tank top I slept in is drenched. I don’t understand why, after all these years, my parents still have not sprung for air conditioning. Charlie hands me the Starbucks cup, folding herself down next to me on the bed and stuffing another piece of candy into her mouth as she continues to lecture me. Charlie never drinks coffee—she thinks it stunts your growth—but she still picks me one up every morning. Grande vanilla latte. One sugar. “Are you even listening?” she asks, irritated. “Are you kidding me, Charlotte? I’m sleeping .” “Not anymore,” Charlie says, pulling the covers off. “It’s the first day of school, and I’m not letting you drag me down with you. Time to rise and shine, Ms. Caplet.” I scowl at her, and she smiles. Charlie’s beautiful. Actually spectacular-looking. She’s got strawberry-red, curly hair and bright green eyes. Sometimes she’s so stunning, it’s shocking even to me. And I’m her best friend. We met on the playground in the first grade. John Sussmann had taken my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and tossed it into the sandbox. Charlie knocked him over, fished it out, and even ate half just to prove he hadn’t won. That’s real friendship, right there. “So anyway, listen,” she says as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and head into the bathroom. “Ben and Olivia totally just got together. Ben told me.” “About time.” I stick a toothbrush into my mouth and root around in the medicine cabinet for my deodorant. I can tell from Charlie’s impatient prattle that there’s no time to shower. “This is, like, a big deal. He’s my brother .” Ben is Charlie’s twin, actually, but they’re nothing alike. He’s tall and blond and lanky and he likes English, a subject Charlie thinks is frivolous. She’s a history buff: “Why read about stuff that didn’t happen, when you can read about stuff that did? Real life is way more interesting, anyway.” Olivia is our other best friend. She’s been with us since the eighth grade, when she transferred to San Bellaro. “Look,” I say, spitting, “they’ve been flirting for decades. It was bound to happen.” “But now she’s going to, like, what? Come over after school?” “She already comes over after school.” “I know why you’re so calm about this,” Charlie says. “Because I am still unconscious?” “No, because Rob got back last night and you’re going to see him today.” She pops another fish into her mouth, triumphant. My stomach clenches and releases. It’s been doing that all week. The thought of seeing Rob is, well, making me ill. It’s been eight weeks, which I guess is a long time, although I refuse to see it that way. In the general scheme of things, what’s two months? Like, a millisecond. Okay, so it’s the longest we’ve ever been apart and, yeah, I’ve missed him, but I’ve known Rob my whole life. It’s really not a big deal seeing him again. It’s been