The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  She snuck a glance at him, thinking of how she’d told Viv they were just having fun. Kissing Toff was epic, but he’d probably kissed a million girls. Or a hundred. At least fifty. She’d bet her UK edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone that Toff had stronger feelings about her dad’s cookies than he did for her.

  After a while, Toff turned off the coastal highway, steering the van down a bumpy path that looked more like a hiking trail.

  “Is this a legit road?” Amy asked, a bubble of anxiety forming in her chest.

  “Nope.” He shot her a quick grin. “It’s a secret. I might have to blindfold you when we get closer.”

  A few minutes later, the road-not-road spilled them out onto a patch of dirt barely big enough for two vehicles. Amy caught her breath at the view. The tiny island of dirt was surrounded by cypress trees, the ocean glittering in the distance.

  “You have a secret hideout,” she breathed. Was this his hookup hideout? How many other girls had he brought here? She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the thought away.

  “Super secret.” His voice dropped low, and he killed the engine. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here.”

  “Really?” Her stomach cartwheeled.

  “Yeah. It’s my favorite place. I found it right after I got my driver’s license.” He opened his door. “Come on.”

  She waited a few moments, absorbing the fact that he’d never brought anyone else here; then she hopped out of the van, sending up a puff of dirt when she landed.

  Exhaling a deep breath, she walked to the edge of the cliff to peer at the ocean sprawling below like a deep-blue velvet blanket. She closed her eyes, letting the breeze wash over her, inhaling the briny scent of the sea.

  Toff’s footsteps scuffed the ground, followed by the familiar squeak of the van’s sliding door. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the waves rhythmically lapping the beach below.

  Footsteps sounded again, moving closer. Toff’s body heat enveloped her before he even touched her. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on top of her head. She leaned back against his chest, sighing happily as his familiar warmth seeped into her skin.

  “Thanks for bringing me here. I love it.”

  His arms tightened around her waist, his touch sending electric jolts through her body. “I’ve always kept this place to myself, but I wanted to show it to you.”

  “Why?” Her question was almost drowned out by the breeze and the pounding waves below.

  He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his lips brushed her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “I’m not sure. I just…wanted you to see it.”

  …

  A shiver racked Amy’s body, and he pulled her even closer. “Cold?”

  She nodded against his chest, and he felt a weird caveman urge to find two sticks and build a fire.

  “It’s warmer in the van.” He wasn’t going to be the idiot who started another raging California wildfire. He relaxed his grip around her waist as she turned to face him. She brushed a few strands of windblown hair out of her eyes and smiled up at him, and something flipped over in his gut.

  “Let’s stay out here for a while. It’s so beautiful.”

  “Okay. Be right back.” He sprinted to the van to grab his hoodie and a hammock. He tugged the hoodie over her head, and she emerged like a turtle, a really cute turtle in a too-big shell. “Come on.” He headed to the trees and quickly strung up the hammock.

  “You do this a lot,” she commented, moving next to him and pushing the rainbow-striped hammock like a swing.

  “Like I said, it’s my favorite place.” He sat in the hammock, spreading his legs wide and planting his feet on the ground. “Sit right here.” He patted the fabric, and she cast him a skeptical look.

  “We’re not going to flip over?”

  He grinned, pointing to the space between his legs. She blushed, and he hoped her thoughts were headed the same direction his were. She bit her lip, then turned around and sank onto the hammock.

  “Ready?” He lifted his legs and spun, holding her tight. They landed perfectly, sending the hammock swaying, and she laughed, making him really, really glad he’d brought her here.

  He kept his arms around her, and she nestled into him. It was a two-person hammock, perfect for tonight. He kissed her temple, once, twice, gently turning her toward him so he could get his mouth on hers.

  Instead, she surprised him with a question. “What does it feel like to win all the time?”

  So no kissing right now. Okay. He could wait.

  “I don’t always win. Just most of the time.”

  Her soft laughter was like a gust of wind, circling around him, then fading away. “Okay, what’s it like to win most of the time? To know you’re in the top tier?” Her foot bounced against his. “I can’t imagine what that feels like, to be so talented that you know you’re always going to knock it out of the park.”

  Her words landed like a punch. Why couldn’t she see her own talent, especially after just watching their video? He wanted to watch her shoot across the sky. Ignite her light and let it shine, like in that old Katy Perry song the girls on the surf team sometimes sang on the beach at bonfire parties.

  He ran a hand through her hair, entwining his legs with hers. He liked having her this close to him. Horizontal. His body was starting to get all sorts of interesting ideas, but he forced himself to focus on her question.

  “You sell yourself short, Ames. Like you said, people like me, we suck up all the oxygen in a room. All the attention.”

  Most of the time, he reveled in being in the spotlight, but after spending time with her, he was starting to realize how people like him overshadowed the quiet people. It wasn’t intentional, but it wasn’t cool, either. He’d gambled tonight, pushing all her buttons during their book review, hoping she’d rise to the challenge, and she had. He loved how she came across in the video—sparky, funny, smart.

  “Why are you worrying about this, Ames? We’re supposed to be celebrating all the swagger you’ve been bringing.”

  “I know, but…so far it’s all been online. Even tonight. The only real audience was our friends and Rose. If I actually win and get to meet Lucinda, I’ll probably freeze up.” She sighed, resting her head on his chest. “That’s how the world works. Extroverts rule, introverts drool.” She slanted him a resigned smile.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Says the extroverted winner of all the things.”

  “I’m not winning much of anything this summer,” he said, pointing to his ribs, hoping to distract her from talking crap about herself.

  “Is that the worst part of your injury? Not competing?”

  “Yeah.” Everything else about it sucked, but not hanging with his friends at comps? Not smoking it? That was the worst.

  Amy nodded, her eyes downcast, and it hit him that maybe there were worse things than not competing.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked. “I’m not talking about singing in front of an audience. I mean what scares you here.” He moved his hand from her hair to her chest, right over her heart, locking eyes with her.

  …

  Toff’s voice was sandpaper wrapped in velvet, the heat of his body making it hard to think. She was quiet for a beat, struggling for an answer as a jumble of emotions swirled through her.

  What was she afraid of? She was afraid of losing the contest. Of losing out on the opportunity to meet Lucinda. Of her dad not finding another job soon. Of being mocked for loving romance, which was starting to happen on Twitter, now that she’d gained more of a following.

  She could ignore Twitter, but she was afraid she’d backslide, lose the confidence she’d started to build, reverting to staying quiet instead of speaking up, or worse—letting someone else do the talking for her, l
ike Viv or Toff. That wasn’t her only Toff-related anxiety. There was also the I’ve-crushed-on-you-forever-and-now-I’m-actually-falling-for-you problem.

  “Look at me, Ames,” Toff said, his voice soft, his hand still on her heart. Cajoling. Seductive. And a whole bunch of other adjectives that made her skin tingle.

  “Do you ever feel like you’re…” She hesitated, then met his gaze. He didn’t look like a tough coach ready to pump her up or like he was about to crack a joke.

  “Feel like what?” he prompted. “Tell me.” His hand moved from her chest, his fingertips reaching underneath her T-shirt, stroking her bare stomach, trailing hot sparks.

  “Um.” She swallowed. “Are you asking as my coach? So you can attack my fears?”

  “I’m asking for a lot of reasons, not just coaching.” His eyes darkened, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “You don’t have to tell me your deep, dark secrets. Just tell me one fear.”

  He shifted, making the hammock sway, his sunshiny Toff scent filling her nose. They’d never been horizontal before. Do not freak out, she commanded herself.

  “Here’s one of mine,” he said. “I joke about shark attacks all the time, but honestly, sharks scare the shit out of me. Too many surfers have gotten chomped. I don’t want to be one of them.”

  Amy giggled, and he reared back, eyes wide.

  “You’re not scared of sharks? You wouldn’t care if Jaws showed up to terrorize Shady Cove? What if I’d gotten attacked by one instead of it just being a crazy rumor your brother started?”

  He was joking, of course, but she realized he’d shared a real fear, and she should reciprocate.

  “I’m not a fan of sharks, either,” Amy said. “I’d hate to see you get chomped.”

  “Hmph.” He pretended to be offended. “Not sure I believe you.”

  “You want to know what I’m afraid of here?” She took a breath, putting her hand over her heart. “I’m afraid of failing. Not just this contest but a lot of things. I want so much, but I always hold back.” She glanced up, smiling. “I mean, I used to hold back. I’m getting better at it, thanks to my coach.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. “I know what it’s like to be afraid.”

  “Do you? To me, it seems like you’re made of Teflon.” She shrugged, half smiling. “Everything rolls right off you.”

  “No,” he said sharply, surprising her. “Not true. When I was a kid, after my mom died, I was like a…an open wound. Everything upset me.” He looked up through the trees to the sky, his gaze unfocused.

  “One time my dad found me crying about some crappy stuff an older surfer said.” He hesitated, then kept talking, like he had that night on the pier. “I cried a lot after Mom died. Dad and I both did.”

  He swallowed, then continued. “This probably sounds weird, but I used to smell her perfume after she died. It would happen out of nowhere, when I was riding my bike or digging for snacks in the pantry, just normal stuff.” He glanced away. Amy could see his blush even in the dark. “I know it was just my imagination.”

  Her heart ached for that little boy. And the boy holding her. “It wasn’t your imagination,” she said firmly. She knew it, deep in her heart. “It was your mom checking in on you, letting you know she was still watching over you.”

  “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” He still wouldn’t look at her.

  “But I know it’s true, Toff.”

  Slowly, he turned toward her. “How?”

  “People who love us always find a way to show it while they’re here, somehow. I think they still find a way, even when they’ve moved on to the stars.” She pointed to the sky.

  Toff watched her, his eyes full of hope, like he wanted to believe her. Like he had to believe her. His eventual smile was slow, hesitant. He nodded once, then tugged her in even closer. They lay together, swaying softly in the breeze, breathing in sync, watching the stars for a long time. Amy wondered if he could hear her thundering heart.

  “So when Dad found me crying that day,” Toff said eventually, picking up his original story, “he told me a story about a kid who drew himself an invisible bubble made of magic glass. It was unbreakable. Nothing could puncture it.” His smile was boyish. Embarrassed. “Dad said no sticks or stones or words would hurt me, as long as I stayed in that bubble.”

  Amy held her breath, afraid if she breathed too loudly, he’d stop talking. Also, he was back to stroking her bare stomach underneath her shirt, leaving a trail of sparks with each rotation.

  “It worked,” he said. “Every day I drew that magic, imaginary bubble around myself in the morning before I left the house. Then at night, before I went to bed, I erased it.”

  Amy gasped. “Harold and the Purple Crayon!”

  Toff frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Oh my gosh! You don’t know? It’s this amazing kids’ book about a little boy who draws his world with a purple crayon, just like you drew your magic bubble. He draws a boat when he falls in the ocean and a hot air balloon when he falls off a mountain.”

  “I’ve never seen someone get so excited about books.” Toff grinned. “You need to do more vlogs, Amy. People are gonna love how you get so excited.” His eyes locked onto hers, and they softened. “You know, I think I still draw my magic bubble every morning.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “It’s second nature. I don’t even realize I’m doing it.” He flashed her a teasing grin. “I must’ve forgotten to draw it that day I saved you from the po-po and the raccoons.”

  “Or maybe you just didn’t close it all the way,” Amy said. “Maybe you left a tiny gap, and that’s how I got through.” She mimicked drawing a circle, her hand slicing through the top as she made a crashing sound.

  Toff laughed as he smiled down at her. “Or maybe I made room in my bubble just for you.” His legs moved against hers, warm and taut with muscle. “I like coaching you, Bonnie. Teasing you. You keep me on my toes. I never know what you’re going to say. Or do.”

  Neither do I, she thought. Especially when I’m with you.

  The energy between them pulsed like a beating heart. The air crackled as his gaze dipped to her mouth, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. She bit her bottom lip, and his eyes flared like Fourth of July sparklers.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, Ames,” he said, his voice rough as his hand continued to stroke her stomach, then drifted slowly upward, his thumb running along her bra line, and she stopped breathing, her pulse pounding in her ears, her throat. Everywhere. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. About a lot more than kissing.”

  He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across her lips, then kissed her jawline, his lips searing her like a sweet, hot fire as he worked his way to the soft skin behind her earlobe. He enfolded her body with his, like a sun god, warm and strong.

  His mouth found hers again, their lips sliding against each other. She flattened a palm against his chest, right over his heart, feeling his heartbeat, fast and urgent. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer, hoping she wasn’t hurting his bruised ribs.

  He didn’t seem to mind.

  Toff’s lips coached hers, soft and gentle one minute, desperate and urgent the next, when his hand cupped her breast through her bra. Amy shivered, his touch igniting a fire she’d never felt before.

  She wondered if anyone had ever died from the pure adrenaline rush of kissing. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and her stomach became a roller coaster that flew over its internal tracks, up and down and backward. At some point she’d need to breathe, to gulp in air, but not now.

  “Hold on tight,” he said, his voice ragged in her ear. In one swift move, they were out of the hammock, standing upright, never breaking the kiss. Their mouths crashed together as his hands cupped her bottom. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he staggered
to the van, still kissing her fiercely. Before she realized what was happening, they tumbled into the van, landing on a nest of blankets.

  “You could’ve put me down first,” she said with a laugh, her body on fire with the need to touch him.

  “Why would I do that?” He released his hold on her just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. “Can I take off your shirt?”

  He was breathing hard, his eyes dark, hooded. She nodded. She didn’t want to stop. He removed the hoodie and her T-shirt in one quick move.

  Amy shivered as the cool air hit her bare skin. Toff’s jaw went tight, his eyes darkening to blue-black as his gaze swept her up and down. He wrapped his arms around her, his biceps flexing as he lowered her to the blanket. Their gazes locked for a long, heated moment. Was she still breathing?

  “God, Amy.” He covered her body with his, kissing her like his life depended on it, his hands busy unhooking her bra.

  She stopped thinking, giving in to the rush, the fiery heat of touch, of his hands and mouth. This was what she wanted, right now, in this moment. In a flurry of tugging, and kissing, and touching, the rest of their clothes came off, and Toff held a condom packet. Once they were naked together, skin to skin, she ducked her head against his chest, heart pounding, wanting to keep going but overcome by shyness.

  “Hey,” Toff whispered, tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. “Don’t be shy, Ames. It’s just me.” He kissed her softly, sweetly. “We’ll go slow. If you change your mind, just tell me. I want you, all of you, but I’ll never force you. You’re the coach tonight, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Show me what you want,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly as he pulled them down to the blankets.

  “What about your ribs? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He laughed softly against her neck. “Trust me, babe, I’m not feeling any pain right now.”

  True to his word, he went slow and gentle at first, but when she whispered that she wanted to keep going, he quickly handled the protection issue, then kissed her fiercely, his hands everywhere, and she kissed him back, and the energy between them rocketed to explosive.