Her Book Boyfriend (The Awkward Duckling Books 1)

by K. R. Grace

  “For falling?” Colt raised an eyebrow.

  “On the other team. The refs always assumed he was trying to pick a fight.”

  That made Colt laugh. “Then why did the coaches keep him on the team?”

  “He was a math genius and used his knowledge to work out some pretty creative plays.”

  “Maybe it’s genetic. That could keep Clay from getting cut when he goes to high school.”

  “Clay excels in a lot of things, but math isn’t one of them. He has dyscalculia, which is like dyslexia, but with numbers.”

  “Maybe that’s why I suck at math,” he chuckled and then to Clay, he yelled, “That’s good! Bring it in!”

  Clay jogged over to us, sweat pouring down his face, arms, chest, and legs. I grimaced just thinking about how nasty the ride home was going to be. I had my beloved Oscar back, which meant Clay’s sour sweat was going to soak into the fabric of my seats, and I’d smell it every time the temperature went up. Awesome.

  “You’re doing good, kid. Another week of this and I think Coach will finally make you a starter.”

  I was so caught up in thinking of ways to protect my baby from Clay’s foulness that I almost missed what Colt had said. “Wait, what? He’s going to have to do this next week, too?” I asked as I hopped to my feet, making sure to wipe my backside clean of any grass debris.

  “Yeah, every day.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but caught the silent plea in Clay’s eyes. Because deep down I loved my stinky little brother, I sighed. “Okay, if it’ll make him a starter.”

  Clay and Colton fist bumped before Colt grabbed the bag of soccer balls by his feet and tossed them over his shoulder. “See you next week.” He nodded to Clay before walking over to an old, gray truck.

  “You owe me,” I warned Clay. He just flashed a big smile before heading over to Oscar.

  Even with the windows down, the car still smelled like sour onions and wet grass. There was also the funky smell that comes from sweaty nether regions that I didn’t want to think about seeping into my passenger seat. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Clay and I both bolted out of the car. I headed for the carpet cleaner in the garage, and Clay hopefully was headed for the shower where he needed to use an entire bottle of body soap.

  I was bent over, butt in the air, when Cam let out a low whistle. I bolted upright, smacking my head on the door frame. Stars danced in my vision as I clutched at the injured spot. Even though I couldn’t see him clearly at the moment, I shot him a glare hot enough to scald layers of his skin off.

  “What if it had been my mom?” I demanded.

  “Your mom doesn’t wear black Vans.”

  I looked down at my comfy shoes and back up at him. “Point taken. Wanna help me get Clay’s stink out of my car before movie night commences?”

  “Sure, toss me the brush.”

  Together, we tackled every inch of fabric in my car until it smelled like fresh carpet cleaner. He returned the cleaner to its rightful place before sitting down in one of the camping chairs Dad had stored against the garage wall.

  “So, are we watching movies at my house or yours?” he asked before his phone dinged with a new message.

  “Mom and Dad are going to be home tonight, so I can come to you.”

  “Perfect. I was hoping you were going to say that. Mom’s making pizzas. You good with that?”

  “As long as it has lots of gooey cheese and pepperoni, I’m there.” Yes, I’d only had pizza a few days before, but if I was stranded on an island with only one food to eat for the rest of my life, it would be pepperoni pizza.

  “Is there any other way?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes trained on his phone. A sly grin spread across his face, letting me know whoever sent the text message was obviously of the female persuasion, and she’d said something that likely had a naughty twist to it. So predictable.

  “I’m going to change into something comfortable. I’ll meet you at your house in thirty minutes?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said absentmindedly.

  I snorted before grabbing my bag out of the backseat of Oscar and going inside.

  Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch in the living room, both the picture of relaxation in their pajama pants and sweatshirts. Clay was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear water running upstairs. There was a God!

  “Hey, Macey Cakes. How’s school going?” Dad asked as he looked up from the book he was reading.

  “It’s going well. I’m mostly marking time until acceptance letters come in.”

  “I heard Wake Forest got theirs out already,” Mom chimed in.

  I nodded, slightly confused as to why she brought that school up when she knew I didn’t apply there.

  “Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll have more acceptance letters than you’ll know what to do with, and you’ll have to decide where you want to go.” Dad smiled encouragingly.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m going over to the Davis’ tonight. Gotta change first, though.”

  He and Mom exchanged a look I didn’t understand before giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s good. It’s been a while since you two hung out on a Friday night,” Dad said.

  That Dad even paid that much attention to what was going on in my life was impressive. Being a pediatric surgeon meant he was on call all the time and often missed out on the big moments for us. I knew he didn’t purposefully try to miss our recitals, games, and fairs, and we were used to his absences. Mom would record everything he’d missed and we’d watch it whenever he was home and relive the celebration. Still, even with modern technology, Dad tended to be clueless to the world around him.

  I jogged up the steps and into my room where I tossed my bag on the bed and made quick work of trading my skinny blue jeans and long, maroon, lightweight sweater for black, frumpy sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt with the words, “I’d rather be reading” across the chest. My hair was already up in a messy bun, so I went into the bathroom, washed off what little makeup I’d actually put on this morning, and then grabbed my phone.

  Even though Momma Noel always told me I didn’t need to knock before entering, I still did. The front door swung open, and there stood Cam’s little sister, Winter. Next to Cam, she was my favorite person in the world. She had her mom’s wild, curly, brown hair and perpetually tanned skin but her dad’s blue eyes—Cam’s eyes. She was a Disney movie expert and a cooking show connoisseur. The girl marched to the beat of her own drum and only wore what inspired her. This day, it was a royal blue tutu with sparkles, pink and purple chevron tights, orange highlighter Keds tennis shoes, and a gray t-shirt with a multi-colored unicorn on it. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she flashed me a smile to reveal her missing front tooth.

  “Hey! Your tooth is missing!” I cried out.

  “Yeah, and the tooth fairy gave me five bucks for it, too!” She beamed.

  “Wow, the price for teeth has gone up. Good job!” I raised my hand, and she jumped to give me a hearty high five.

  “We’re having pizza tonight. I made it.”

  “Then that means it’s going to be delicious.”

  “Of course. Come inside, but watch out for monster poop. I keep telling him he needs to go in the toilet and not on Momma’s floor.”

  Of course there was no monster poop, but Winter’s imagination was allowed to run wild and free in her home, which meant we all pretended to sidestep massive mounds of invisible poop she would point out. When I accidentally “stepped” in some, I made the appropriate expressions of disgust before finally plopping down on a stool at the island in the middle of Momma Noel’s kitchen.

  “Macey, it’s so good to see you! Twice in one week, too!” Momma Noel gushed and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug before hurrying over to the oven to check on her dinner.

  “Yeah, surprised me, too. Where’s Cam?”

  “He’s downstairs in the den glued to that phone. I’m thinking about making a cell phone ban just until I can get the standard questions answered
from him like how school is going, how his day was, and if his hearing is still good.” She huffed and I had to cough to hide a giggle. Momma Noel was a self-proclaimed hippie who resisted technology as if it would suck out her soul if she came in contact with it. The exact opposite of Mom with her obsession with the latest created technology and anything edible that came from a box, which was why they clicked. She was the ying to Mom’s yang. Kind of like Cam and I.

  “Is Mr. Davis joining us tonight?”

  “No, he’s on nightshift this week. He’ll slip in early in the morning to catch a few hours of sleep before going back in tomorrow.”

  Cam’s dad, Trigg, was an electrical engineer for the local power company, and ever since the bad storms we had last month, he’d been pulling long hours at work trying to get power restored and lines cleared in the area. It seemed like he was never around much, yet he acted like the silent presence over Cam’s house.

  “Macey! Mi anadón!” Cam’s Grandma Mae gushed just like her daughter as she burst into the kitchen and clasped my face between her cool, slender hands. She kissed me once on each cheek and once on the forehead before releasing me. Why she called me her duckling was beyond me. I loved it, though. It made me feel like one of her grandchildren.

  Grandma Mae was one of a kind. She spoke six different languages, English not being her first, and was born in Mexico City to missionaries who then relocated to France. At eighteen, she moved to London to go to school where she met an exchange student from Texas who convinced her to elope and return with him where they had one daughter, whom they raised in Texas on his family’s land, which happened to be an oil dynasty. When Grandpa Tom handed the reins over to his nephew, he and Grandma Mae traveled the world, living in various places for a while before settling down in Tennessee to spend the rest of their retirement closer to their daughter and her family.

  Grandma Mae had salt and pepper hair she always kept up in some sort of bun or twist and loved to wear brightly-colored outfits that floated around her. When Grandpa Tom died several years ago, she hosted a celebration that would’ve made a Bollywood movie proud because that was the kind of people she and Grandpa Tom were. Bold, vivacious, and saw everything as a chance to celebrate.

  You had to be careful with Grandma Mae, though, because she didn’t know a stranger and loved getting into your business. There were no secrets where she was concerned.

  “My beautiful Macey. You have a boyfriend who makes over you, yes?” She nodded brightly.

  “No, Grandma Mae. I’m still flying solo these days.”

  “What is the matter with the high school boys? They are blind idiots!”

  I smiled warmly at her. Leave it to Grandma Mae to lift my spirits with two simple sentences.

  “They’re all horny scumbags who don’t deserve someone like her,” Cam suddenly said as he entered the room and placed a kiss on Grandma Mae’s cheek.

  She returned the sentiment by cuffing him on the back of the head. “What is the matter with you? You are no better!”

  “Guess we know who her favorite is.” He jerked a thumb in my direction as he opened the refrigerator to retrieve a can of flavored sparkling water.

  Momma Noel winked at me before calling for Winter to come and eat. Once the pizzas were out and sliced, everyone filled their plates with yummy, gooey goodness as well as salad and sat down at the table to dig in. Conversation was loud and lively with Winter being the center of attention. After dinner, Cam and I cleaned up while Momma Noel and Grandma Mae went into the living room to be further entertained by Winter.

  “How did Clay’s extra practice go today?” Cam asked as we stood at the sink washing dishes by hand because Momma Noel didn’t believe in dish washers. He handed me a plate to dry, and I wiped it down quickly before setting it on the drying rack.

  “Fine, I guess. Apparently he will need to do this every day next week if he wants to be a starter for next week’s game.”

  “Hey, good for him. He’s earned it.” He handed me another dish to dry.

  “I guess so,” I said as I wiped down the rim of the plate I was holding. “It just sucks that I have to sit and wait for him every day when I already have a long list of things I have to do each night.”

  “He comes to all your events without complaint,” Cam tossed back.

  “Yes, but only after a considerable amount of bribery.”

  “You like being contradictory tonight,” he said as he threw his wet washcloth at me.

  “What? Would you rather I agree with everything you say?”

  He thought about it for a second. “Well if it meant I was always right, then heck yes.”

  “Yes, Cam. Whatever you say, Cam. You’re the greatest, Cam.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him as I set the last dish on the rack and tossed my towel in the sink.

  “You’ve got something wrong with your eyes. They’re twitching like crazy.”

  “Jerk.” I pretended to growl as I shoved him away and made my way to the stairs that led down to the basement.

  Once we were downstairs on the large, comfy couch designed for serious movie watching, Cam set out the essentials. “We have peanut butter cups, cookies and cream chocolate bars, toffee popcorn, sour worms, and gummy bears. Did I forget anything?”

  “Nope, you got everything to put an entire army into a sugar coma.”

  He popped in the first movie, War Horse, and settled back in the couch next to me. A few minutes into the movie, he asked, “So, how’s the boyfriend project progressing?”

  I let out a deep sigh. “I’ve decided I can’t date nerds. I redirected my focus group to the jocks, but I can’t figure out whom to go after.”

  “Admit it. You’re not going to succeed in this.”

  “I’m a Greere, and Greeres never say die.” I tilted my chin up in defiance.

  “You’re thinking of The Goonies there, Mace.” He smirked.

  “What does it matter to you if I succeed or fail anyway?”

  He turned to give me his full attention. His blue eyes searched me over before he answered. “I don’t want to see you get your hopes up.”

  “I won’t. I’m going to prove Wendi Cooper knows the secret to getting a guy to fall in love with you. I was just going after the wrong guys.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything else. We wound up watching three movies. Well, technically, I only watched two and ended up using Cam’s lap as a pillow for the third. We had sleepovers all the time, so when he suggested that I stay and go home in the morning, I agreed wholeheartedly.

  Space was limited in his house with Grandma Mae living with them, so he and I stayed down in the den, making our own beds out of pillows and blankets. We were head to head in the middle of the floor, looking up at the dark ceiling.

  “Can you keep a secret?” he asked once we’d finally settled in and gotten comfortable.

  “Always.”

  “I got accepted into Belmont University.”

  I flopped onto my stomach and pushed myself up so that my face was hovering above his. “That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me you applied to colleges?”

  “I only applied to one and it’s a backup in case I don’t sign a record deal before then.”

  “Still, that’s amazing! You should be proud of yourself!”

  He flashed me a bright smile. “You wanna know something else?”

  “Sure. I’m a sponge for new information.”

  “You look really funny from this angle. Sort of like a Who.”

  “A what?” I frowned.

  “Not a What, a Who.”

  I bopped him on the head when my brain caught up and registered the fact he was saying I looked like a character from How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

  “Hey, I was paying you the highest of compliments. That’s my favorite movie.”

  “Goodnight, Camden Davis,” I huffed as I plopped back down onto my pallet and curled up on my side.

  “Goodnight, Macey Greere.”

  Saturday morning
soccer games were the worst. Not only did they usually occur at the ridiculous hour of nine o’clock, but I usually ended up having to record the whole game with my phone so the absentee parent could catch every minute of the action. This morning was no different.

  I’d been called out of the cocoon I’d created in the Davis’ basement and shuffled across the street to throw on something comfortable for watching the game. Spring was definitely upon us, and I decided on black workout pants I never used for working out and one of Dad’s old college sweatshirts. I was spending my morning around maniac soccer parents and middle schoolers who had yet to master the art of good hygiene. My poor choice in fashion was guaranteed to go completely unnoticed.

  His mom tossed me a Greek yogurt and a banana as we hurried out the door, across the street, and into the garage where Clay already sat in the front passenger seat of Mom’s CR-V, strapped in and ready to go.

  I wanted to protest the fact he took my seat, but instead climbed into the back of the car and curled up against the window as I snuck in a few more minutes to sleep.

  Once at the soccer field, I set up my chair off to the side, out of the way of the other spectators so as to avoid getting constant footage of the back of some bouncing woman’s head. I tucked my legs underneath me and balanced my yogurt cup in the nest my folded legs made and proceeded with the careful art of eating with one hand and holding a phone up with the other. Thankfully, no yogurt made it onto my sweatshirt, but the banana was harder to manipulate.

  I studied the offensive yellow fruit as I contemplated my options. I’d seen something on social media that said gorillas opened bananas at the bottom rather than at the stem because it was easier and made for perfect unappealing. Having concluded that was the best course of action, I decided my mouth was the only option. I held the banana tip up to my mouth and clamped down onto it. I felt it split open upon contact and carefully peeled away each section with my teeth until half of the banana was exposed. Good enough.

  “Impressive,” Colt said, causing me to almost jump out of my skin and drop the banana.

  “I didn’t see you there.” I laughed awkwardly. Lord, had he seen everything?