The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “No.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and she winced.

  Toff was trying to help, but he still had no idea of the effect he had on her. How could he, since she was hiding it so well? Amy scanned the list, her gaze stopping at “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she’d heard it. No doubt it was better if you knew the song you were singing, but she’d just read the lyrics and do her best.

  “How about this one?”

  Toff leaned over her shoulder to read, his solid chest pressed against her back. He didn’t need to move in that close, did he? Did he…want to touch her? Like in the car when he’d touched her shoulder? And at the table? She blinked and told herself to breathe. She was being ridiculous.

  “Whatever you want, Ames.” His voice was close to her ear, and his breath tickled her neck. Goose bumps rose along her skin.

  He straightened suddenly, and cool air swirled up her spine, making her shiver. Toff wrote their names and song choice on the clipboard, then handed it to the next person in line. She followed him down the stage steps onto the dance floor.

  “Want some liquid courage?” he asked.

  “What? We’re underage. Nobody will serve us here. We don’t have wristbands.” She held out her arm, which didn’t have the purple wristband that indicated they were over twenty-one. Neither did Toff. Wait…what was that? One wrist was encircled by a couple of beaded bracelets; the other had the purple wristband.

  He grinned and reached out to tweak one of her curls. “You’re in serious need of my skills. There’s always a way to break the rules. Just stick with me.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. That cockiness of his should get him arrested. It probably would someday. Why was she such a sucker for it? Why couldn’t she fall for someone quiet and nerdy like her? She was a walking cliché, lusting after the hot, cocky surfer everyone else wanted, too. If she were a character in a book, she’d yell at the pages.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t.

  It was always fun to read about the quiet girl winning over the sexy player. What would it feel like in real life?

  Amy slanted him a glance. He scanned the dance floor, where people shimmied and grinded to a mash-up of hip-hop and electronic dance music. Most of the crowd was of legal age, and the drinks were flowing. Amy wouldn’t mind a sip of liquid courage, but no way was she going to encourage Toff.

  The song faded, and the DJ’s voice boomed into the mic. “We’re back for the second half of karaoke! First up is a duet by Amy and Toff. Come on up, you two, wherever you are.”

  As the crowd left the dance floor, Toff smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world. She, on the other hand, was dying inside. He must’ve read the fear on her face because he reached out and took her hand again.

  “Come on, Bonnie. We’ve got this.” He tugged her toward the stage, and she heard Viv’s whoop clear across the room. After all of this was over, Amy was going to kill her for the “let’s go to a movie to celebrate” charade.

  Amy followed Toff across the stage. They stopped in front of a monitor that displayed the lyrics for Singer One and Singer Two. She took a deep breath and glanced around the club, relieved she couldn’t see anyone because the bar was mostly dark, and the spotlight shining on her and Toff blinded her to pretty much everything else.

  The DJ grinned at them, or at least she thought so. It was hard to tell with all the piercings. “You two lovebirds ready?” He handed each of them a cordless mic.

  Wait, what? Why did he think— Oh, maybe because Toff still held her hand in a firm grip. What was up with that? Coach support, she told herself. Nothing more.

  “Ready.” Toff squeezed her hand, and her stomach flipped over. Panic seized her as her throat went dry. What if she had one of those awful dry hacking fits? What if—

  Music blared out of the speakers, and she swallowed, staring at the monitor. Which singer was she? One or Two?

  Toff’s deep voice rang out through the speakers singing about mountains and rivers.

  So she was Singer Two. Wait—baby? Had he just called her baby? Stupid lyrics. He squeezed her hand and tilted his head toward the screen where her lyrics were highlighted.

  Amy came in a beat late, missing the “If you need me” line but chiming in for the line about calling on someone no matter where they were.

  Holy crapoli. This was a love song, after all—the grand finale song in the Bridget Jones’s Diary movie, when Renée Zellweger ran out in the snow in just her sweater and underwear to chase down a modern-day Mr. Darcy. No wonder her subconscious had picked this one.

  “Don’t worry, baby.” Toff’s voice took over smoothly, not missing a beat.

  She jumped in as her lyrics lit up, her voice clear and on key, asking Toff to call her name, saying she’d be there in a hurry.

  Now both their lyrics lit up, flashing the word “together!” at the top of the screen. And so they sang, together, spontaneously harmonizing when they got to the chorus about mountains, valleys, and rivers, none of which would keep them apart.

  Toff pulled her in close, grinning down at her. He fist-pumped the air as his deep voice filled the room, looking into her eyes, singing lyrics that vowed to always be there when she needed. The audience cheered.

  Wow. He could really sing. Was there anything he sucked at?

  “Together!” flashed on the screen again, and she joined in, feeling a smile pull at her lips. This was ridiculous. Terrifying.

  But also fun.

  She could see Viv and Dallas cheering them on. This time, she sang as loudly as Toff. His eyes sparked, telegraphing his approval of her performance, which made her sing even louder. He grinned when he sang the line about getting her out of trouble, and she laughed as she thought of the sheriff.

  They were on a roll now, on fire, perfectly in sync, like they did this all the time.

  The whole crowd joined in for the chorus, clapping and dancing, everyone singing about scaling mountains and rivers for the person they loved.

  As the song faded, the room exploded into cheers and applause. Amy’s heart raced and she felt light-headed. Had she really done that? Had they really done that? Together?

  Amy stepped out of the spotlight, handing her mic to the DJ. She smiled into the dark room, knowing how proud Viv was of her. Dallas, too. A warm pressure squeezed her fingers, and she glanced down. Why was Toff still holding her hand?

  “Let’s hear it for the best duet of the night!” The DJ did one of those arm-twirling flourishes as the crowd continued to voice their approval. “All right, let’s see who’s next. Bao the Man, you’re up!”

  Still holding her hand, Toff pulled Amy across the stage and through the crowded bar, pausing to high-five and fist-bump strangers congratulating them on their performance. Amy slapped a few high fives, too, and her entire body suffused with heat when a woman reached out to grab her arm and drunkenly whispered, “That was hot. You’re totally getting lucky tonight.”

  The thought of getting lucky with Toff sent a tidal wave of desire crashing over her. If she were a surfer, she’d wipe out, unable to maintain her balance.

  Her secret fantasy popped to mind, the one that had been torturing her since they’d watched P&P together. She’d read enough romances to queue up all sorts of fantasies about getting lucky, but experiencing it for real? With Toff the sexpert?

  That was as likely as a real-life Mr. Darcy arriving at her house in a phaeton.

  When they returned to their table, Toff finally released her hand, and Amy collapsed into her chair, adrenaline still coursing through her body. Who knew karaoke could be terrifying and fun? She glanced at Toff as he sat down across from her. Was it because of him? Could she have done this on her own?

  He met her gaze and a slow, sexy smile spread across his handsome face.

  “See? I knew you could d
o it.” He took a long drink of soda and tilted his head toward the bar. “I could use a beer.”

  “Toff, don’t,” Viv warned. “We don’t want to get kicked out.”

  Dallas raised his eyebrows and shrugged, which was all the encouragement Toff needed. He stood up and headed for the bar. Dallas glanced at Viv and Amy, and because he was the perfect boyfriend and realized they needed to girl squee, he stood up, too. “Back in a few.”

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Viv jumped up and moved to the chair next to Amy, then unleashed the squee.

  “Omigod! That was— You were— He was—” Viv’s dark eyes flashed with excitement. She leaned in close to be heard over the current karaoke singer, who was horribly off-key.

  “It was like you guys had practiced, or you’d been doing it forever. How did you— I mean, wow! You were totally in sync.” She took a breath and grabbed her soda glass, pausing to suck from the straw, then raised her eyebrow. “That was serious chemistry up there, Amy. Real, not fake.”

  Two mugs of beer slammed onto the table as Toff sat down across from them before Amy could respond. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he lifted a mug to his mouth and took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “You’re crazy, Flipper,” Viv whisper-yelled. “What if we get kicked out?”

  Toff lowered the mug to the table. “I never get caught.” He turned his attention to Amy, making her stomach swirl. “Right, Ames?”

  She nodded, trying to think of a snappy comeback, but nothing came. Dallas sat down and reached for the other beer, but Toff put out a hand to stop him.

  “That one’s for my costar.” Toff’s eyes freaking twinkled. Dallas shrugged and started to push the mug toward Amy, but she pushed it back.

  “No thanks.” She glanced at Toff, who watched her intently. “I mean, thank you for getting it, but I don’t want any.”

  “Not a drinker?” Toff shrugged. “That’s cool.”

  “No, I just… I’d hate to get caught.”

  “Mind if I have it?” Dallas asked, reaching for the beer.

  “Go ahead,” Amy said.

  “Dallas!” Viv exclaimed. “You’re as bad as Toff.”

  Dallas and Toff exchanged wicked grins and clinked their glasses together.

  “Here’s to America’s new idols,” Dallas joked. Viv raised her soda glass, nudging Amy to do the same.

  “Not America’s new idols,” Toff said, shooting her a sly wink. “To the bookworm world’s newest OTP, who just knocked it out of the park.”

  Viv nudged her foot under the table.

  “And here’s to Redhead Recs kicking butt on her final challenge,” Toff continued, “because I know she will.”

  They all clinked glasses and drank. As Amy watched the guys down their beers, she felt a rush of accomplishment. Despite her fears, tonight had been a huge step forward. She’d belted out that song like a rock star. She’d loved the rush. The applause. Was this what Toff felt every time he competed? No wonder he loved it so much.

  Amy glanced at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. He was completely focused on her, his expression unreadable. Which was strange, because Amy was pretty sure she knew all of Toff’s facial expressions.

  But this one––this one was brand-new.

  …

  “Watch out for raccoons,” Toff joked as he walked Amy up the driveway while Viv and Dallas waited in the car.

  She rolled her eyes, then flashed him one of those rare, approving smiles that she made him work for. He was turning into an Amy-smile junkie, craving more and more.

  He took her hand as they slowly approached her house, in no hurry to say goodbye. He wanted to know if he was reading her signals right, to find out if she wanted the same ending to their night as he did.

  All he’d thought of since they left the karaoke bar was what her lips would taste like.

  “Sorry about not warning you about karaoke,” he said. “I should’ve asked if you wanted hard-ass coach or cheerleader coach before I made plans.”

  “Yeah, well…it worked out okay. Better than okay. I had fun.” She smiled up at him, then bit her lower lip, igniting his internal fuse.

  “You were great.” He tightened his grip on her hand and stepped closer, officially crossing the coach boundary line. “We were great.”

  “I thought so, too.” She reached up, pulling one of her sparkly clips from her hair. He wanted to touch that wild red hair, to tangle his fingers in it, find out if it was as soft as it looked. He suddenly realized he’d wanted to for days. Maybe longer.

  “This is for you.” She held up the hair clip, her eyes locking on his. Her eyes were beautiful, coppery like a penny. Freckles dusted her nose. He had no clue why she’d flown under his radar for so long.

  “I should’ve given this to you after the bookface photos,” she said. She sounded as out of breath as he felt. “I officially pronounce you my contest coach for the rest of the summer.”

  “I’m honored.” Toff grinned as he took his prize, randomly clipping it into his own messy hair. Amy laughed, taking a tiny step closer to him. And another.

  Bingo. He matched her step for step. They stood as close together as two people could without actually touching.

  “Remember when we talked about coaching rules?” Every part of him was aching to touch her, some parts more than others.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Hell.

  “You asked me to rein it in, Ames.” He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It was soft, just like he’d imagined. “Any chance you’ve changed your mind?”

  Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she nodded.

  Oh hell yeah. Signal received.

  He exhaled roughly, bending down to rest his forehead on hers, cupping her waist with his hands. They were nose to nose, mouth to mouth, just like the bookface photo. She smelled like cinnamon mixed with sugar, a little bit spicy and a lot sweet, just like her.

  “We’ve been here before,” he whispered, smiling against her lips.

  “But this time I’m not chickening out,” she whispered back.

  That was all the incentive he needed.

  He kissed her softly at first, testing out her reaction. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away. Amy’s hands tentatively roved up his chest, her touch heating him through his shirt. She gripped his shoulders, like she wanted more. He deepened the kiss, running a hand through her hair. Damn. Kissing her was even better than he’d imagined—sweet but hot, too.

  A kaleidoscope of images swirled through his mind, a highlight reel of their time together, fueling the fire building inside him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, melting against him. He groaned, his mouth and tongue hungry, greedy, like he couldn’t get enough, and neither could she.

  His hand moved from her waist, toying with the hem of her shirt, ready to give in to the desperate need to touch her skin, when a light flashed in their faces. Amy jumped, breaking the kiss, and whirled toward the light.

  “Brayden!” She looked ready to kill her brother.

  Toff raised a hand to block the light from his eyes, squinting at the smug-faced kid holding a flashlight who was never getting a private surf lesson again.

  “It’s past curfew!” Brayden whispered louder than most people talked. “I’m helping you out.”

  “Shut off that light and go inside, Brayden,” Toff ordered, keeping his voice low. “Amy will be there in a minute.”

  Brayden flicked off his light, and Toff reached for Amy, just as another light flashed on, illuminating half the driveway. Fortunately, they were still in the shadows.

  Her dad stepped onto the porch. “Brayden? Is that you? Is Amy with you?”

  “Omigod,” Amy muttered under her breath. “I—I can’t believe this.” Her voice sounded shaky. She was
still breathing hard, and so was he. “Just call me Cinderella. I’d better go inside before the clock chimes twelve and I turn into a mouse.”

  Toff chuckled. “Brayden’s the rodent, not you. Got any mousetraps lying around?”

  Brayden ran toward the porch, yelling at his dad. “Amy’s inside! She already went to bed!”

  “On second thought, we’ll let him live.” Toff grinned down at Amy, reaching out to tug her against him, running his hand through her hair one last time. So soft.

  He glanced toward the porch, where Brayden waved his arms around, talking way too loudly, obviously buying his sister time to sneak in through the side door.

  Reluctantly, he stepped back and gave her a gentle push toward the house. “Go inside, Cinderella.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile, then scurried off, sneaking through the bushes on the side of the house. He grinned as she disappeared into the darkness.

  That was one hell of a first kiss. He hoped it wasn’t their last.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Toff texted Amy as soon as he climbed into bed after Viv and Dallas dropped him off.

  Toff: Did you make it inside without getting busted?

  No reply. He stuffed another lemon madeleine into his mouth. He’d never had this type of cookie before, but they were awesome. He was stashing them in his bedroom so his dad didn’t polish them off, like he had the cupcakes. Toff was still PO’d about that. Those cupcakes were epic.

  Toff: So are you still scared of public speaking? Or did I cure you?

  Maybe that wasn’t the best way to say it.

  Toff: I mean, did karaoke cure you?

  He waited, but still nothing. He was effing this up big-time.

  Toff: Tell your dad these cookies are awesome. The cupcakes were, too, except my dad ate most of them. Jerk.

  Toff: I mean my dad’s a jerk. Not you.

  Toff scratched his stomach. The bruising was puke-yellow now, with hints of faded purple. The stitches would come out tomorrow, well, today, technically, in about twelve hours.