Read Online A Summer Remade by Nicole Deese - Free Book Online Page A

just a little bit for that. Nobody outside of my best friends can read me as easily as he does. “I’m serious, Drew.”
    “As a heart attack?”
    “Stop it.”
    “It was just a bad cramp. Relax.”
    “I’ve had lots of cramps in my life, and they’ve never caused that level of pain.”
    “It’s just an old injury. From rowing. I’m working through it.”
    Hands on my hips, I want to call his bluff, demand things of him I have no right to demand. But the truth is, we’re just friends—albeit, friends who’ve shared a two second kiss, but still.
    I’m not his girlfriend. I’m a summer…fling? That word stings my lungs on my next inhale. I don’t want to be Drew Culver’s fling.
    “Sit. Down.”
    This time I obey. I sit across from him on the recliner, and my legs bounce with nervous energy.
    “We need to make a game plan for the float tomorrow,” he says.
    I pop right back up. “We are not talking about the float right now. We’re talking about your near-death experience from kissing me.”
    I don’t mean to say that last part aloud, but as I blurt the words into the room, Drew throws his head back with a laugh. “That was the most memorable kiss of my life to date!”
    I purse my lips and put my hands on my hips. “Glad this is all so amusing.”
    Gradually, he sobers, rests his head against the sofa. “You’re more than just amusing.” And then he pats the empty spot next to him and sighs. “Fine, why don’t we just relax and watch TV for a bit. We’ll make a plan later.”
    I shake my head, raw stubbornness coming to my aid when I need it most. “Nope, sorry. Can’t trust that I won’t cause you another injury attack.”
    Drew raises his head slowly. He offers me a smile so devastatingly perfect that it could cripple even the greatest of athletes. And I’ve never been one to claim athleticism.
    “Fine. I’ll sit on the opposite side of the sofa.” I plop on the plush green couch.
    He leans toward me with stealth-like speed and slips his hand around my ankle. With a single tug, he tows me to his side. I’m reduced to a mix of girlish giggles and weak resolve.
    Drew kicks his feet onto the coffee table and presses the power button on the remote. In all of five seconds, I’m snuggled into his side, enjoying a rerun of The Office .
    I’ll fight with him later.

Chapter Eleven
    ‡
    F or the next four days, Drew and I are slaves to his float-building blueprints. The same blueprints he penned while under the influence of prescription pain meds. But this time, I won’t be the voice of reason. Or negativity. This time, I’ll keep my commentary to myself.
    Drew’s shoulder cramp never resurges, but unfortunately, neither does our kissing moment. Sure, there’ve been plenty of spine-tingling glances, double-takes and glass-shattering smiles. But Drew hasn’t pinned me to a work bench to kiss me breathless, though there’s been ample opportunity to do so. I’m beginning to think his lack of advances has little to do with opportunity at all.
    Drew pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ve gotta take this call.”
    He heads out to the open field. He’s been taking more and more calls in private recently. In fact, that’s all Drew’s ever done. Take his calls in private.
    I stop my mind from going where it wants to go. To some sorority girl with blonde bouncing curls who cheerleads for him as he rows. I face the giant piece of art we’ve dedicated our week to, and blink the imaginary girl away. The structure before me is full of raw edges and untrimmed pieces, but even as it sits, waiting to be polished, pride swells in my chest. The gears, dials, numbers, and rusty rods of rebar, finally reveal what Drew knew was here all along. A clock or at least a parade float that resembles a giant timepiece. It’s modern, edgy, and one of the most unique pieces of art I’ve ever seen. Harve made us a sign earlier today that will fit snugly in the center. Trash or Treasure—20% off for a