And so would Toff.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
No way was Amy texting Toff, and he hadn’t texted her, either. It had been two days since that awkward night at his house, which still felt like a weird mash-up of nightmare and dream. Her strategy was to pretend it hadn’t happened.
She’d taken a shelfie of all of Lucinda Amorrato’s books for today’s Instagram post and tagged HeartRacer. She figured she might as well keep herself out there with all the new eyeballs on her account, including HeartRacer’s.
She owned all twenty-five of Lucinda’s books in hardback, thirteen in softcover, and five foreign editions, even though she didn’t read German or French. She could just imagine Toff’s reaction to that: “What? You own books you can’t even read?”
Dallas had posted a photo on Snapchat of snoozing Toff holding a penguin stuffie that Viv had found in his bedroom. He’d cropped Amy out, at her request.
“He can take a joke,” Dallas said. “He’s always the one pranking everyone else. Payback’s good for him.”
Viv had texted her that he was upset about the photos, though, so Amy felt bad. Even if she personally loved the close-up shot of sleeping Toff.
Amy blinked away the image of Toff lying on the couch with her. She had just ten days before the final “reluctant romance reader” challenge deadline, and she still needed to find a reader.
Toff was the obvious choice—especially now that they were a ship and it would play well on social media—but based on his ridiculous reaction to her book offer last night, she’d have to find someone else. He was too reluctant.
It was a shame. She was a firm believer that books could change hearts, and she hoped he’d have a change of heart about his dad and Rose’s wedding after reading what she’d picked for him. Viv had tried to talk to him about it again yesterday, which he was not having.
Not smart timing, Amy had texted Viv, who’d replied with any eye-roll emoticon.
Viv: I know, but Flipper makes me so mad sometimes. Those perc pics weren’t a big deal. He’s just pouting because he can’t surf at the fund-raiser today.
Oh, right. Surf for Sea Life. His local sponsor, AceWare, had tweeted about Toff not being able to compete because of his injury.
Amy refocused on her shelfie. Lucinda had written six perfect series and seven amazing standalone novels. Amy had grown up with the books because the first two series were for middle readers, and then Lucinda had written three series for teens. Now she’d moved on to adult romance, which Viv and Amy were totally binge reading.
Amy would love the chance to sit down and talk with Lucinda—assuming she didn’t completely freeze up. She wanted to thank her for the hours and hours of escape into other worlds, for characters who made her laugh, and cry, and almost throw the books at the wall.
To thank her for getting her through the sleepover in the fifth grade when no one talked to her because she was a “have-to-invite” guest. The horrible ten-hour layover in the Chicago airport when she’d flown by herself for the first time to visit her grandparents and had been terrified.
And all the nights she escaped her everyday worries about being a misfit, a weirdo, an outcast who’d never feel comfortable in her skin. She really wanted to thank Lucinda for that.
…
Amy grabbed the minivan keys off the kitchen hook. Normally she’d bike, but her dad had asked her to pick up more groceries than would fit in her bicycle basket.
“You can pick up Brayden while you’re out,” Mom said.
“Where is he?” She didn’t want to go grocery shopping with her brother. He’d whine the whole time and fill the cart with junk food she’d have to put back on the shelves.
Mom glanced at her phone, stalking her child like every other parent Amy knew. Whoever invented those apps would pay someday, somehow—revenge of the helicoptered generation.
“Looks like he’s at the beach.”
“I don’t want to chase him down. There’s a big fund-raising surf event today.” Amy wondered if Toff was there, too, as a spectator. He’d hate that. At least she assumed he would, like if she spent a day in a bookstore but couldn’t take anything off the shelf.
“I’ll tell Brayden to meet you at the market in half an hour,” Mom said. “He can bike there, and you can toss his bike in the van.”
“Why can’t he just bike home?” Amy knew she was being difficult, but she wasn’t in the mood to watch over her brother today.
Mom sighed and gave her the you-don’t-even-know-how-tired-I-am face. “Just pick him up. I don’t want him getting into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Mom shrugged, frowning. “I’m not sure. You know your brother. He’s always up to something. He keeps turning off the location app, and he has a guilty face when he thinks I’m not looking.”
“He always has a guilty face.” Amy sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll be my brother’s keeper. But just for today.”
Mom smiled with relief. “Thanks, sweetie.”
…
Forty-five minutes later, Amy stood in the cereal aisle, wondering where Brayden was. She’d texted him three times, but of course he hadn’t replied.
“Amy! Look who I found! Your boyfriend!”
Amy dropped her box of Lucky Charms. She bent to retrieve it, in no hurry to stand up, but she couldn’t stay down there forever. If Toff wanted to yell at her about the Perc photos, too, she could handle it.
Brayden beamed, all flushed and sweaty, while Toff hung back.
“Hi,” Amy said. She handed the cereal box to Brayden. “Put this in the cart.”
“I want something else,” he complained.
“Fine, whatever. Pick what you want.” She kept her eyes on Toff, who stared down at the floor. He looked like he always did—windswept, suntanned, like he belonged on a brochure for beach life. But also like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, taking a step toward him. “Look, I’m sorry about those photos—”
“No, I’m sorry.” He kicked at the floor with his flip-flops. “Dallas told me I had you trapped on the couch.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at her. “Sorry.” He glanced up, his blue eyes dimmed instead of lit up. “I’m not taking meds on an empty stomach again, that’s for sure.”
She smiled. “It was fine. I survived.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” He glanced at Brayden, who was studying his cereal options. “I’m not stalking you. Your brother’s bike had a flat so I gave him a ride; then he dragged me in here.”
Ouch. So much for her coach wanting to see her. “Oh. Okay.” She twirled her hair self-consciously. “Um. Thanks for dropping him off. You can go.”
Toff’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to see you. I do. I mean, not like…” He shoved his hands in his shorts pockets and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m effing everything up today.” He shook his head, then gave her a crooked smile. “So far today I’ve yelled at Viv, cussed out Dallas, argued with my dad… I tried to watch Surf for Sea Life, but it was too hard to watch and not compete.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s been a shit day. A shit week.”
Amy nodded. “I’m sure it sucked, not surfing for the fund-raiser today.” She gestured to his general midsection, covered up by a Billabong shirt. “How badly does it hurt? It’s been five days, right?” Not like she was counting. Ugh. Her turn to be embarrassed.
“It’s better, but I’ve got to wait to surf until my stitches come out this Friday.” He sighed. “Hope I don’t flip out on anyone between now and then.” He glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Uh, your brother took off. Want me to help you find him?”
Amy groaned and rolled her eyes. “He’s such a pain in the—”
“Yeah, he is.” Toff laughed. “But I like him.” His smile reached his eyes,
and her heart did a little shimmy in her chest.
“I’ll just text him,” she said, reaching for her phone, but Toff surprised her, grabbing the grocery cart and pushing off.
“Nah. It’ll be more fun to sneak up on him. C’mon.”
Surprised, she kept pace with him as he steered the cart. He paused in front of the Pop-Tarts. “Does your dad let you eat these? Since he’s a real pastry chef and these are, like, total crap pastries but also totally delicious?”
Amy laughed and plucked two boxes of the strawberry ones from the shelf. “Yes. He likes them, too.”
Toff grinned, and his arm brushed hers as they rounded the corner, scouting for Brayden.
“My mom’s always worried about Bray,” Amy said. “She thinks he’s up to no good.”
Toff laughed. “I’m sure he is. I was at his age.” He leaned on the cart as they walked slowly around the store’s perimeter, scanning the aisles.
“What do you mean, ‘at his age’? You’re still up to no good.” She shoulder bumped him.
Toff returned her shoulder bump, grinning down at her. “I need to spend more time with you. I’m already in a better mood.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, but her heart twirled like the suncatcher hanging from their back deck.
“Clean-up on aisle seven! Clean-up on aisle seven!”
“He’s definitely not in aisle seven,” Toff deadpanned, and Amy dissolved into giggles.
Aisle seven was a mess.
No surprise to Amy, it was the candy aisle. What did surprise her were the hundreds of round candies bouncing on the floor. Were those gumballs? At the far end of the aisle, two little kids pelted each other with the candies, laughing hysterically. A furious store clerk glared at Brayden, who hung his head in front of an enormous gumball machine display made of cardboard that had toppled to the ground.
Toff squeezed her hand, sending sparks shooting up and down her arm. His grin nearly blinded her.
“Don’t worry, Bonnie. I’ve got this.”
…
An hour later, Toff and Brayden loaded the grocery bags into the McIntyre minivan while Amy texted her mom that, yes, they’d be home soon; shopping just took longer than expected.
“Put the cart back,” Toff ordered Brayden, who obeyed.
Amy watched her brother ride the cart across the lot to the cart corral. If it hadn’t been for Toff’s magical sweet-talking of the store manager and making Brayden clean up all the gumballs, who knew what would’ve happened? Could a kid go to juvie for retail disruption?
“Why doesn’t he listen to me the way he listens to you?” she groused.
“Because you’re his sister. And I’m a god.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open, and Toff laughed. “Kidding.” He watched Brayden run toward them. “But he thinks I am, so I’ve got an advantage. You’re just a human.”
“You’re saying I’m a lesser deity in the panoply of overlords?”
Toff blinked at her. “Uh…yeah?”
“Are you coming over to our house?” Brayden demanded, skidding to a stop in front of Toff.
“No,” Toff said. Brayden’s face fell. Toff reached out to mess up Brayden’s already messy hair. “Get inside, kid.”
Toff opened the minivan’s passenger door, and Brayden climbed in. Toff slammed the door closed and turned to Amy.
“You doing okay? You aren’t going to lock Brayden in time-out for the rest of his life?”
Amy laughed. “I’ll let him out when he turns twenty-one.” She swallowed. “Thanks for everything.”
“That’s what coaches are for.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the van. “Remind me what the final challenge for your contest is. We need to get going on that, right?”
“Um…” Should she ask him to be her reluctant romance reader? “We still have time,” she hedged.
No. Anyone who faked a can’t-breathe attack rather than even hold a book was a bad choice. She’d ask someone from Rose’s mystery book club, one of those snooty readers who looked down their nose at romances.
“What’s the challenge?” he prompted. “Something about reading a book, right?”
Amy nodded. “I need to find someone who doesn’t like romance novels and convince them to read one.”
Toff’s eyes narrowed, like he was about to launch into intense coach mode. Amy braced herself, but Brayden pounded on the car window, startling them both.
Brayden plastered his face against the window, pretending he was gagging. Toff laughed and opened the door. “Dude. Chill.”
“Are we going or what?” Brayden demanded, glaring at Amy. “You’re not supposed to leave kids locked in cars with the windows up.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “It’s been maybe sixty seconds.”
“Seconds count,” Brayden said darkly.
Toff shook his head, laughing. “I might borrow him for a day, just to keep me entertained.”
Brayden’s face lit up. “I can come over now!”
“No,” Amy said sharply. “You are not going to bug Toff.”
Toff smiled. “I don’t mind hanging out with redheads.” His gaze skimmed over Amy’s hair. “Where are your sparkles today?”
Self-consciously, she reached up to touch her hair. “Guess I forgot.”
“Ugh.” Brayden flopped his head against the headrest and squeezed his eyes shut. “If you guys are gonna kiss goodbye, just get it over with already.”
“Shut up, Brayden,” Amy said through gritted teeth, her cheeks burning. She dared a glance at Toff, whose gaze was fixed on her, not Brayden. Were his eyes turning colors? From sky blue to denim?
“You know what else you have to do for the last challenge, right?”
Kiss you? Amy thought, then blinked away the ridiculous idea. “What?”
“You need to do a vlog. Record yourself. But you have to talk.” He grinned. “No waving paddles around like you do for Viv. She’s not even allowed to be on camera with you.”
“Who put you in charge?”
“You did when you made me your coach. Look how great #BookFaceFriday turned out.”
God, he drove her crazy. One minute he was sweet and funny, and the next he was bossy, poking at her, teasing. “I—I told you I’m not ready for that yet.”
“You will be.” His gaze roved her face, lingering on her mouth. He cleared his throat and met her eyes again, blinking like he’d just come out of a trance.
He tapped his phone and grinned. “Looks like our ship is still sailing. I tweeted one of our #BookFaceFriday outtake photos with our #BonnieandClyde hashtag today. Dallas sent me the photos.”
Amy gaped up at him, all the air whooshing out of her lungs. “You what?”
“Just giving you a boost, bookworm.” His lips quirked as he backstepped away from the van. “Hey, thanks for the back scratch. I don’t remember much from that night, but I remember that.”
He shot her a wink, then spun around to leave before she could come up with a reply.
…
The next afternoon, Toff’s surfer friends sprawled around the living room, some on the furniture, some on the floor. His dad had finally relented on the “preapproved visitors” rule, probably because of Toff’s pissy mood about missing the Surf for Sea Life comp.
Today, his whole crew inhaled burritos, chips, and guac while replays of the highlights from the Ballito Pro surfing event in South Africa played on TV.
“Sick! Check out that air!”
“Man, he jammed off that lip!”
“Tight carves, bro!”
On the screen, Toff watched a guy he’d competed against from San Clemente kill it, carving sharp turns on the face of a huge wave, catching air at the end. That should be me, he thought, his gut churning.
One of these days—soon—he and his dad
were gonna have it out again. Toff should’ve tried to go pro by now. Waiting another long year until he graduated from high school just put him that much further behind his peers already on tour. Waiting until he graduated from college would lose him four years of prime time, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.
Toff picked up his phone to check on the contest. His latest post had stoked the OTP fire on Amy’s book planet. Somebody’d even posted a fan art drawing of the two of them sitting on a surfboard together in the middle of the ocean, arms wrapped around each other and kissing.
“Yo, bro, you getting a booty call? Or asking for one?”
Toff glanced up.
“Shut it.” Claire chucked a pillow at the guy who’d joked about the booty call. “You’ll never get a booty call unless you pay for it.”
She tossed her blond dreads over her shoulder and glanced at Toff from the pillow fort she’d built with her boyfriend, Murph. Toff grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. Claire was cool. She was one of the best surfers on the team, and she’d bonded with Viv after joining Viv’s book club last year.
Viv and Amy’s book club, Toff corrected himself, recalling that awful video he’d watched with Amy being Vanna White.
He hoped the #BookFaceFriday success had given her confidence a boost. Just in case it hadn’t, he’d come up with a plan to help with Amy’s public speaking phobia and to dial up her swagger. She might resist it at first, but he had a feeling it would work.
Murph kissed Claire’s cheek, then turned it into a raspberry, making her swat him away, laughing. Murph jumped up, pausing on his way into the kitchen for more food. “Want anything?”
“Nah.” Toff shook his head. For once, he wasn’t hungry.
It was cool seeing his friends, but he was tired. His ribs ached, and he hadn’t slept much. After the embarrassing Percocet incident—which Dallas was still giving him crap for—he was sticking with ibuprofen, so the pain still kept him awake. At three o’clock this morning, he’d queued up Amy’s favorite movie and watched it again, not that he’d ever admit it.
Toff’s phone buzzed, this time with a text from Dallas.
The Bookworm Crush Page 16
