I have to give him more. Lots more. “I like Beth. She’s pretty.” Yeah, she is. “She’s more than pretty. She’s not like any girl I’ve ever met before. Beth keeps me on the edge. With her, I have no idea what’s coming next and I find that…” Amazing. Thrilling. “Fun.”
Scott says nothing back and I’m glad. Until I said the words—words I thought I was creating to impress him—I had no idea they were true.
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A sexy voice, one I know all too well,
causes my stomach to levitate like I’m at the top of a roller coaster, then plummet. Beth heard every word. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s impolite to eavesdrop.” Scott keeps his back to her and his eyes glued on me.
“I didn’t say fucking kidding,” she responds.
He inclines his head to the right as if to agree that was a major concession. “When?”
“When what?” I ask.
“When are you picking her up on Friday?”
“Seven.”
“I want her home by nine tonight. Midnight on Friday.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott turns to Beth. “What are you going to do while he’s practicing?”
“Watch.”
Scott dips his head in disbelief.
Beth sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll do homework.
I’ll become studious and add ‘big fat dork’ to my ‘freak’ label. It’s what you want, right?”
“It’s all I dream about. Go on. Enjoy
yourselves.” He enters the foyer and Beth’s lips twist into that evil smirk. What the hell did I walk myself into?
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Beth
EVERY NOW AND THEN, FATE SMILES in my
favor. Yes, I know, hard to believe, but today is one of those rare days. Last week, Lacy told me Ryan drove into Louisville for coaching lessons on Wednesdays, and yesterday she told me that the facility is located in the south side of Louisville, sweetly tucked away a half mile from my home.
Outside of a large metal warehouse, Ryan
plucks a bag full of his baseball crap out of the back of his Jeep and I do my best to keep from fidgeting. My nerves make it difficult to stay still. I’m so close to my mom that I can almost taste the cigarette. Be cool, Beth. This is a hand you have to play carefully. “How long is practice?”
“An hour. Maybe a little longer.” Ryan
slings his bag over his shoulder. I swear, this HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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guy has the broadest shoulders of any high school kid I have ever met. He wears a tight Tshirt and my stomach performs tiny flips when his shirt rides up, exposing his abs.
I sigh and push the thoughts away. The
characteristics of gorgeous and decent don’t mix with wanting me. And while Ryan can be a jerk, he is…decent. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that what I’m doing to him is wrong.
Wrong but necessary.
Besides, whatever is going on between us is a game of some sort. I just haven’t guessed his angle yet. Not that it matters. By the end of the night, Ryan will hate me and so will Scott. I won’t feel bad about Scott though. He’s the one that dragged me into this mess and he’ll be much happier without me. In an hour I will have reached Mom, contacted Isaiah, and we’ll be out of town. The schedule is tight, but doable.
“Where do you want to go to dinner?
There’s an Applebee’s close by and a T.G.I.
Friday’s. Hopefully our dinner conversation will be a lot better than the silence on the way in.” He pauses. “We can do fast food if you HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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prefer. I know how you love tacos.”
The first cool breeze of fall blows across the parking lot and goose bumps rise on my arms.
In an hour, I’ll be heading to the beach.
“I said tacos, Beth. Where’s the ‘eff you’
that typically follows?”
I stare up at him and blink. I’m doing this.
I’m actually going to run away.
Ryan’s eyebrows furrow together and he
comes closer to me, blocking the breeze, or maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body warming me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s taller than me.
Gigantically. I’m not going to see him again so I let myself notice Ryan as he really is. He’s sexily hot with his broad shoulders, curved muscles, cute mess of sandy-blond hair kicking out behind his baseball cap and adorable warm brown eyes. I pretend for a second that the sincerity in them is real—and for me.
The wind blows again, harder this time, and several strands of my hair move across my face. Ryan focuses on them. His fingers whisper against my cheek, then down the
sensitive skin on my neck as he brushes the strands over my shoulder. His touch tickles and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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burns at the same time.
Heat races to my face and my hands
immediately cover my cheeks. What the hell?
I’m blushing. Guys don’t make me blush. Guys don’t want to make me blush. Confused by my reaction, I step away and reach into my back pocket to pull out a cigarette I bummed from stoner boy at school. “Give me a few, okay?”
“If you get bored in the waiting area and you want to watch, I’ll ask Coach if you can…”
I shake my head. “No.”