My Totally Off-Limits Best Friend
Sweet Mountain High: Class of 2021
M.L. Collins
Sweet Heart Books LLC
Contents
1. Spencer Hale
2. Spencer
3. Tessa Martin
4. Spencer
5. Tessa
6. Spencer
7. Tessa
8. Spencer
9. Tessa
10. Spencer
11. Spencer
12. Tessa
13. Tessa
14. Spencer
15. Tessa
16. Spencer
17. Spencer
18. Tessa
19. Tessa
20. Spencer
21. Spencer
22. Tessa
23. Tessa
24. Spencer
25. Tessa
26. Spencer
27. Tessa
28. Spencer
Epilogue
About the Author
More from Sweet Heart Books
1
Spencer Hale
Have you ever missed seeing something right in front of you? Like your car keys? Or your pre-calc book? Or the perfect girl?
Wait. Not the keys and the book—I mean, yes, the keys and the book, but they aren’t important. I mean overlooking the perfect girl? That’s a big deal. My very smart, as in, straight-A’s-in-every-available-AP-class friend, Rhys, says there’s a word for it.
Scotoma. A mental blind spot caused by a flawed belief in our brain that keeps us from seeing things that are right in front of us. That’s exactly what happened to me. I still can’t believe how blind I was. To think, I almost missed my chance.
I finally saw her on the last day of junior year. One hundred twenty-two days ago. I mean, yeah, I’d seen her before, but I hadn’t seen her as a girl I had any hope of attracting.
My flawed belief? I thought she was too good for me. She soared in an orbit close to the sun while I trundled around, dragging my knuckles on terra firma. I was much less evolved on the social scale than her. She was amazing, and I was just a geeky band kid. Whoa, no. Not that kind of band kid—not the high school marching band. I mean, those kids are cool. Some of my best friends were in the marching band. But, no. I’m talking garage band with rock music so loud it makes your heart pound.
Trust me when I say this girl was out of my reach, but I came up with a plan to change that. I had spent the last four months working on it. So far, opinions on my plan were split. My mom and sister were unimpressed, and they’d been sure to let me know, but my dad and my best friend, Cody, were two thumbs up.
I had a funny feeling I was about to get the last opinion that mattered to me: Tessa Martin, my other best friend. Well, we used to be best friends. Something had changed a few months ago, which I hadn’t figured out yet.
Tessa moved to North Carolina the summer before fourth grade, her house only a block from mine. Cody and I met her at the pool that summer when we challenged Tessa to a belly flop contest from the diving board. She won us over with the biggest splash. The three of us were fast friends and pretty much inseparable that summer and every summer since—until last summer.
Last summer, Cody and I hardly saw her. I knew she’d gone to some summer art program, and Cody and I had gone to Duke and UNC’s lacrosse camps, so I figured we’d be back to normal when school started. But October was here, and things were still different.
We still carpooled to school a couple of times a week, but that was because our moms were good friends, and I figured Tessa didn’t want our moms finding out that we were . . . I didn’t know what we were. Growing apart? On the outs? Fighting?
See, this was why girls were confusing and complex. Guys just punched each other or had it out in the parking lot, and it was over in five minutes. Girls were different.
When I pulled up to the curb in front of Tessa’s house, she was standing on her front porch waiting for me. It looked like she’d gone with her fifties housewife look today: a polka dot dress with a schoolmarm-looking sweater. Absolutely not what any other girl at school wore.
I had always admired Tessa’s ability to not give a darn about what anyone thought about her. She marched to her own beat, danced to music only she heard, wore what made her feel happy no matter how many girls laughed behind her back.
Which was the reason I knew she would hate my plan. And also the reason I hadn’t mentioned it to her. Now that I’d decided it was time to put it in motion, she’d know. But in order to pull it off, I’d need the support of my friends.
I clenched my jaw, waiting as she walked to my truck. Deep down in my gut, I had this nagging feeling that if she’d been around the day I’d come up with this plan, she’d have poked me in the arm a few times and told me to snap out of it. I valued her opinion, but I was ready to put myself out there whether she agreed or not.
“Well, hello.” She leaned down, peered into the open passenger window, blinking through the ray of sunlight that lit up the gold flecks in her gray eyes like unearthing a rare gem from slate. She pushed a wild blonde curl back with one hand as she stuck her other hand out at me. “I’m Tessa. And you are?”
“Haha. Very funny,” I said. “Sarcasm is not a good look on you.”
“I’m sorry, but you caught me by surprise.” Tessa pulled open the door and slid onto the seat, holding her backpack on her lap. “I know we don’t hang out much lately, but I feel like I’ve missed something.”
“Whose fault is that? I’ve been around.” I waited for her to look at me, but she suddenly got very focused on the buttons on my radio. “Seriously, Tess, do I really look that bad?”
“No.” She finally turned her gaze back on me and frowned. “I wouldn’t say bad . . .”
“You’re killing my confidence, Tess.”
“First, I very much doubt that. Second, it’s a pretty big change.” Tessa couldn’t stop staring at me. Her gray gaze moved up to my hair and stayed there.
“It’s not that big of a change,” I said, jerking my gaze away from her intense study. “It’s called a haircut. Millions of people do it every day.”
“It’s not just the haircut.” She frowned and buckled her seatbelt before tearing her gaze from my hair to finally meet my eyes. “There’s something else different, too. Give me a second to figure it out . . .”
“Take all the time you need. What’s with the new backpack? I mean, I dig the Powerpuff Girls.” I rested my elbow on the steering wheel, waiting because, based on Tessa’s frown, she had a lot more to say. “Very retro, but I thought you loved your Princess Leia one.”
“A pen leak, and don’t think you can distract me that easily.”
Right. Distracting Tessa had been a long-shot. Yet, I was desperate enough to try it again.
“Well? Don’t you have anything to say about my new wheels?”
“Oh, I noticed the new truck,” she said. “But just when my brain was saying ‘Hey, cute truck!’ I got a peek at your hair and—”
“Contessa Ann Martin.” I put the truck in first gear, shaking my head at her. “There are some things you can never describe as ‘cute.’ One of those is a guy’s vehicle. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Tessa rolled her eyes at me. “How about you drive your new, awesome, not-cute truck to school? And on the way, you can explain this metamorphosis of yours.”
“Meta-what?” I joked. We
’d been playing the smart geek vs. dumb jock game for a few years now.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Tessa gave me the side-eye. “Metamorphosis—as in, mild-mannered, skinny lacrosse player becomes hot, buff jock.”
I stepped on the gas, pulling away from Tessa’s house and off to Sweet Mountain High School. I saw no problem with wanting to look my best, but I could guess why Tessa was acting less than thrilled.
“I’m not sure where to start,” I said. I needed to sell this to Tessa. Why? Because, like I said, she was my best friend, and I was used to having her support. I knew when I told her why—no, not why, but who—she’d do more eye-rolling.
“Spencer, it’s just me here,” Tessa said. “Spill it.”
“It’s not that simple.” She’d never wanted to be part of the “in” crowd. Heck, we’d never wanted to be part of that crowd.
In a way, this was my mom’s fault. My mom had read a book for her book club, and she was so inspired she made both my sister and me read it. Why Not You? I was the opposite of thrilled about reading it, but it made an impression. Even before I reached the end, a bold thought flashed through my brain, Why not me? Seriously, why the heck not me? Why not me and the girl of my dreams?
“Oh, for crying out loud, it is so simple,” Tessa said. “What’s her name?”
Instantly, two things became clear:
1.I’d underestimated Tessa. Again.
2.Tessa was going to hate my plan.
But I was committed. From this moment forward, there was no going back. It might change everything between Tessa and me, but it was a risk I needed to take.
2
Spencer
“Um, A-Ashley Marks.” I swung a quick look toward Tessa, wondering if she had some psychic gift or something. “How did you know?”
“Oh, please. You’re a guy, right?” Tessa said. “So, now I know the who and the why. Well, the why about the girl, but not the why so many changes. You do know you were a great guy before?”
“Were?”
“Are. Were. Yes, you had substance.” Tessa reached over and touched the ends of my short hair. “Did you get highlights?”
“Mom did it for me, but it had strings attached.” Yep, she used the highlights as leverage. She’d attended a PTA meeting featuring a talk from a college advisor. Ever since then, she’d pushed me toward a wider variety of interests and participation. “She’s strongly suggesting I join a club.”
“Ah. She did a good job. Very subtle.” Tessa shook her head and frowned. “I’m going to miss your wild, shaggy mane of hair.”
“Again, it’s just a haircut.” But it wasn’t. It was more.
“Sure, it is.” Tessa snorted. “I can’t believe your mom went along with this.”
“You know my mom is the farthest thing from a helicopter parent. It was my decision.” Okay, maybe there was a bit of a pout in my voice. “But, for the record, my mom was totally against it.”
“I figured that, dummy. Our moms are scary-similar, and they both preach that pretty wrapping doesn’t equal a really great present inside,” Tessa said. “Oh, I get it. She’s letting you learn things the hard way, huh?”
“She’s not letting me do anything.” I was getting a little annoyed at Tessa. I figured she’d be less than excited, but I wasn’t expecting so much flack. “I’m seventeen—almost a legal adult. As a matter of fact, both of us are, even if only one of us is showing his maturity.”
“Because changing who you are for some stuck-up girl to like you is really mature. Red light,” Tessa snapped.
“I saw it,” I said, braking to a stop. “Funny, you calling me immature. How mature is a Powerpuff backpack in high school?”
“Very mature, if it expresses who I am.” Tessa pulled her backpack closer into her chest. “Ever heard the expression ‘Dare to be different’? Or how about ‘Be true to yourself’?”
“Ever hear of growth? Maturing? You know, evolving into a better person?” I leaned to the right slightly to catch my reflection in the rear-view mirror. What was Tessa’s problem? I knew I looked better now. I shot her a glance, wondering why she was so upset.
I expected her to roll her eyes and poke me in the arm the way she used to whenever I did something dumb. I didn’t expect her to act like this, whatever it was. Mad? Frustrated? Fed up with me? What I did know was she stood firmly in the do-not-approve camp with my mom and sister, Lexie.
“Here’s a newsflash: life is about taking risks.” I knew I should shut up, but my impulsive side, like always, won out. “You can’t sit safely on the sidelines forever, Tess.”
She whipped her head around to me, eyes wide, and her mouth open in shock.
“I do not sit safely on the sidelines.” She notched her chin up at me.
“Yes, you do. And I get why, but you can’t do that forever. Life doesn’t work that way.”
I gritted my teeth, flipped on my right blinker, and turned into the school parking lot. Honestly, even though I had predicted Tessa’s reaction, it would have been nice to have my best friend in my corner. Pulling into my assigned parking spot, I was ready to be done with this argument.
I put the truck in park and set the brake, leaving the keys in the ignition since I couldn’t cut off Eddie Van Halen in the middle of his guitar lick. “Hand me the sun visor, will you?”
“Sure.” Tessa reached down by her feet and grabbed the visor, one of those cheap cardboard ones from the drug store that folded up like an accordion. Her eyes looked hard into mine as I took it from her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said the thing about you being afraid to take risks.” I focused on shoving the sunshade against the windshield and lowering the visors to hold it in place. “I get that you hate my plan, but I could use your support.”
Tessa sighed. “Okay. I’ll try, but let’s run through the Spark-note version of the metamorphosis of Spencer Hale.”
“Fine,” I said, knowing she wasn’t going to let this go until she had her say. “But only for you and only this one time. Then I’m done talking about it.”
“So the hair, and the truck, and the”— her gaze ran over my T-shirt and arms—“muscles. Where did those muscles come from?”
“Lots of weightlifting. I started working on my plan in June.” I watched her face, looking for disgust here too. Huh. No frown. Maybe she was okay with my physique. “Between working out like a beast and guzzling protein shakes, I’ve put on twenty pounds of muscle.”
“How did I not notice, though?” Tessa poked my bicep and pec muscles to check them out before a glint of understanding lit up her eyes. “Tighter shirts. You’re wearing tighter shirts.”
“No. Maybe they shrunk in the wash,” I said. It was a fib, and we both knew it.
“Uh-huh.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m sure your new muscles have improved your lacrosse game.”
“They have. So, if you’re done, I guess I can now go on to have a happy day since you approve.” I might have laid the sarcasm on a bit thick. It wasn’t only that she hated my plan; it was that she’d created this space between us that had never been there before, and I hated it.
“Whoa, hold on there, tiger,” Tessa said, looking around the truck, taking in the fancy stereo and speakers. “What about your truck? It’s nice, but holy cow, Spencer, it’s . . .”
She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Tessa, Cody, and I all came from blue-collar families. We weren’t like the kids who lived in The Heights with the big houses and fancy cars.
I jerked my gaze away from Tessa’s, randomly pushing the buttons on the radio. “You know how I’ve been saving for my new guitar?”
“Yeah, your Fender Stratocaster streamlined with gold paint—” Tessa stopped mid-sentence on a gasp, leaning forward so I couldn’t avoid her eyes. “Spencer, you didn’t!”
“I decided I needed new wheels more.” I lifted my chin at her. “Hey, I bought it from my uncle, so I got a good deal.”
�
��That’s good,” Tessa said softly. “I know how much you wanted that guitar, so the fact that you used your guitar money for the truck . . . I didn’t realize how important this was to you. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“Seriously? You did a little,” I said, our gazes locked together. “Your opinion matters to me. I guess I thought you’d be more excited for me.”
“You want to hear me say you’re hot? You are. You look great,” Tessa said as she grabbed her backpack and opened the door.
“Careful!” I warned. “Don’t forget the truck’s higher than—”
“Aaack!” Tessa landed on her butt just outside the truck. “Yeah, I forgot. Thanks for the warning, though.”
I hurried around the truck to help her up, making sure to keep my face straight. It would be mean to laugh at her, especially since she was now trying to be supportive and all. I propped her up until she was steady on her feet.
“Is there anything on the back of my dress?” Tessa asked. She turned around for me to look while she swatted at any possible leaves or dirt.
“No, you’re fine,” I said. “The dress still looks cute.”
“Cute? Spencer Brandon Hale, there are some things you can never—I mean seriously never ever— describe as ‘cute.’ One of those is how a girl looks once she passes the age of five. Got it?”
“Got it. Are we good now?” I asked, bending my knees so I could look directly into her face. “I’d really like you with me on this.”
“Fine. Your truck is awesome. You’re awesome. And if Ashley Marks doesn’t drop her current football player of the week you, she’s crazy. Totally crazy.” Tessa’s gaze stared hard into mine as if she was searching for the old Spencer she knew. She shrugged and gave me a soft punch in the arm. “I wish you luck. I really do. I’m not sure Ashley deserves someone as great as you. I just think if you need to change who you are for someone to like you—maybe you need to seriously reevaluate your plan.”
My Totally Off-Limits Best Friend: A YA Sweet Romance (Sweet Mountain High, Year 2: A Sweet YA Romance Series) Page 1
