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Authors: Bria Quinlan
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Mr. Broody Pants which way to go. Rustling through my purse with one hand and
keeping my eyes on the road, I thought my car was having a
transition-engine-alternator-whatever-else-can-go-wrong fit when the music went
dead.
“It isn’t Amy.”
What was I supposed to say to that? It didn’t really matter
if I believed him or not. Or even if it was true. He
could be lying to himself for all I cared.
But there was more at play here. This was more than the
strong-silent act going on.
“Okay.” I let the word kind of drift out there between us.
“It isn’t Amy.” He pointed at the road coming up on the
left. “Turn there.”
“Whatever.” Really, what did it matter to me?
He shifted in the seat, as much as a six foot guy could turn
in the bucket seat of a ‘97 Honda Civic.
“Not that I care what you think, but I know you’re not sure
about this tutoring thing. I have some crap going on and I’d really appreciate
you dropping the Amy thing.” He turned back in his seat. “I just…you know the
Amy stuff was hard enough, but I just don’t want to think about anything right
now.”
Says the guy who’s done nothing but brood since he got in my
car.
“Okay.” I felt him study me. “Really.”
“Thanks.”
We were coming up to a house with a few other cars out front
and Luke’s wicked old truck.
“This must be it.” Just call me Captain Obvious.
I parked in the shady spot behind Luke’s truck, threw the
emergency brake and twisted to pull my bag out of the backseat only to come
nose to nose with Chris.
“So, we’re on?”
My brain stalled out. I can’t think of any other way to put
it. I suddenly understood the power of beauty and why his airheads would make
fools of themselves for his attention. I got all those romance novels where the
hero and heroine couldn’t stand each other but there’s that undeniable pull
between them. That something that keeps them coming back to each other when sanity dictates they run the
other direction. The uncontrollable outside power of
it all.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ready to go?”
Or not.
I shook it off. It was just the after effects of dealing
with a rough couple of days. The idea that someone could be as beautiful as
Chris was just a novelty. And it wasn’t like he was beautiful on the inside.
I heard the music blaring from the backyard. Judging by the
cars out front, a good number of the soccer team must be there. Including
Chris, so that meant it wasn’t necessarily just the good guys like Luke.
I stutter-stepped on the stone walkway
thinking about everything that might go on at this party. I’m not sure I
wanted to be around drinking guys who were used to having girls like me handed
to them in the hallways with bows on their heads. Plus, there was the whole
bathing suit thing.
Chris stopped at the arched gateway in the tall wood lattice
fence.
“You coming?”
I tried to shake my head.
“Rachel?” If I didn’t know better, Mr. Broody Pants was
looking a little concerned. He moved away from the gate, the gravel walkway
crunching under his feet as he came to hover over me. Glancing over his
shoulder, he took my arm and pulled us out of the view of the backyard. “Everything okay?”
He really seemed worried. It kind of threw me. Actually, it
really threw me. Right out of anxiety mode.
If I could live with him looking at me, I could live with
anyone looking at me, right? Plus, on the other side of that gate was my best friend and one of the nicest guys in the world.
Also, there was Ben who may possibly be the other nicest guy in the world. It
seemed a complete shame that I wasn’t interested. I’d even tried to be. After Jovi’s , I’d gone home and told myself all the reasons I
should be interested in Ben Harrison…but not even a heart murmur let alone a
full out flutter. What a shame.
But, if I wanted to figure out who his mystery girl was,
this was the perfect time to start.
“Yup. Fine. Why?”
He kept staring, taking
Mr. Broody Pants which way to go. Rustling through my purse with one hand and
keeping my eyes on the road, I thought my car was having a
transition-engine-alternator-whatever-else-can-go-wrong fit when the music went
dead.
“It isn’t Amy.”
What was I supposed to say to that? It didn’t really matter
if I believed him or not. Or even if it was true. He
could be lying to himself for all I cared.
But there was more at play here. This was more than the
strong-silent act going on.
“Okay.” I let the word kind of drift out there between us.
“It isn’t Amy.” He pointed at the road coming up on the
left. “Turn there.”
“Whatever.” Really, what did it matter to me?
He shifted in the seat, as much as a six foot guy could turn
in the bucket seat of a ‘97 Honda Civic.
“Not that I care what you think, but I know you’re not sure
about this tutoring thing. I have some crap going on and I’d really appreciate
you dropping the Amy thing.” He turned back in his seat. “I just…you know the
Amy stuff was hard enough, but I just don’t want to think about anything right
now.”
Says the guy who’s done nothing but brood since he got in my
car.
“Okay.” I felt him study me. “Really.”
“Thanks.”
We were coming up to a house with a few other cars out front
and Luke’s wicked old truck.
“This must be it.” Just call me Captain Obvious.
I parked in the shady spot behind Luke’s truck, threw the
emergency brake and twisted to pull my bag out of the backseat only to come
nose to nose with Chris.
“So, we’re on?”
My brain stalled out. I can’t think of any other way to put
it. I suddenly understood the power of beauty and why his airheads would make
fools of themselves for his attention. I got all those romance novels where the
hero and heroine couldn’t stand each other but there’s that undeniable pull
between them. That something that keeps them coming back to each other when sanity dictates they run the
other direction. The uncontrollable outside power of
it all.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ready to go?”
Or not.
I shook it off. It was just the after effects of dealing
with a rough couple of days. The idea that someone could be as beautiful as
Chris was just a novelty. And it wasn’t like he was beautiful on the inside.
I heard the music blaring from the backyard. Judging by the
cars out front, a good number of the soccer team must be there. Including
Chris, so that meant it wasn’t necessarily just the good guys like Luke.
I stutter-stepped on the stone walkway
thinking about everything that might go on at this party. I’m not sure I
wanted to be around drinking guys who were used to having girls like me handed
to them in the hallways with bows on their heads. Plus, there was the whole
bathing suit thing.
Chris stopped at the arched gateway in the tall wood lattice
fence.
“You coming?”
I tried to shake my head.
“Rachel?” If I didn’t know better, Mr. Broody Pants was
looking a little concerned. He moved away from the gate, the gravel walkway
crunching under his feet as he came to hover over me. Glancing over his
shoulder, he took my arm and pulled us out of the view of the backyard. “Everything okay?”
He really seemed worried. It kind of threw me. Actually, it
really threw me. Right out of anxiety mode.
If I could live with him looking at me, I could live with
anyone looking at me, right? Plus, on the other side of that gate was my best friend and one of the nicest guys in the world.
Also, there was Ben who may possibly be the other nicest guy in the world. It
seemed a complete shame that I wasn’t interested. I’d even tried to be. After Jovi’s , I’d gone home and told myself all the reasons I
should be interested in Ben Harrison…but not even a heart murmur let alone a
full out flutter. What a shame.
But, if I wanted to figure out who his mystery girl was,
this was the perfect time to start.
“Yup. Fine. Why?”
He kept staring, taking
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