The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  She was a piece of paper and Toff was the match, both of them burning bright and hot, going up in flames.

  Afterward, when their breathing returned to almost normal and the sweat had cooled on their skin, Toff tugged a blanket over their intertwined bodies, wrapping them up like an oversize burrito. Amy sighed as she snuggled against his chest.

  First times were supposed to be flubs—awkward and embarrassing—but theirs had been sweet. Hot. Perfect.

  “I don’t suppose you brought cookies with you,” Toff murmured against her ear as his hand cupped her hip, his fingers lazily stroking her thigh.

  “Oh, so now you’re hungry?” she teased, even though she was hungry, too. Ravenous, in fact.

  “Hell yeah. We burned a lot of calories, Bonnie.”

  She heard the wicked grin in his voice and blushed.

  “But as hungry as I am, I’m not leaving this van.” He clamped his leg around hers like he didn’t want her to even think of leaving.

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  “Not true.” He kissed the back of her neck and tightened his grip on her hip. “I want to do a lot of things with you, Ames. Not all of them naked.”

  …

  Amy stared up at the stars through the sunroof as Toff drove her home. He’d put her in charge of music, so she’d queued up her secret playlist. No one knew about her customized Totally Toff playlist she’d created in the seventh grade and added to ever since, not even Viv.

  “Great playlist,” he said, slanting her a grin.

  “Thanks.” She swallowed a nervous laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Just…nothing.” She had to hold on to some secrets, and his playlist was one of them. Had they really…? Yes, they had. And she had no regrets.

  He pulled up to the curb in front of her house.

  “Can we sneak in?” he asked. “I like it when we play criminals together.”

  She laughed. “Sure.”

  Toff held Amy’s hand as they tiptoed up her driveway. It was way past curfew, but she wouldn’t take back the last few hours for all the groundings in the world. She was drunk, not on booze, on him. On kissing. On life. On the stars, the moon, the breeze… She could write one hundred romance novels in one hundred days. She giggled as they snuck around to the back door.

  “Shh,” Toff whispered. “If we get busted, your parents won’t let me see you again. And I will die.”

  His eyes glowed like blue planets. Planets she wanted to live on.

  “Don’t joke about dying!” She giggled again, then sobered up. “But I would, too, if I couldn’t see you again.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He raised his arm, drawing a huge, imaginary circle around them. “Now we have our own magic bubble. Just for us.”

  Amy sighed, leaning into him. “Who knew you were a romantic?”

  “I’m not,” he said. “I’m a penguin.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She knew how he felt about penguins. But he couldn’t mean that…right?

  He tilted her chin up, closing her shocked mouth. “Get inside.” He opened the side gate slowly, quietly.

  “I hope Brayden’s not awake,” she whispered, sliding through the gate.

  “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of that situation.”

  “Ooh, you sound so alpha. You Tarzan. Me Jane.”

  He grinned and leaned over the gate to kiss her on her lips one last time. “Go to sleep, Bonnie. You sound like you’re on crack.”

  She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but he spun her around by her shoulders and gave her a gentle push toward the house.

  “Sleep tight, babe.”

  And then he was gone, slipping into the shadows, leaving her breathless. Dizzy. Smitten.

  Ten thousand bonus points to the surfer with the magic bubble and the magic mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Toff lay in bed staring up at the ceiling as the early-morning light filtered through the window shades. He wanted to fall into a sleep coma, but he couldn’t. He’d slept restlessly the last couple of nights, but not because of pain.

  That night with Amy had rattled him.

  He grunted in frustration. “Rattled” was the wrong word.

  Since when did he even care about picking the right words?

  Since Amy.

  He laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, letting memories wash over him. The night had been awesome, and not just what happened in the van. He couldn’t stop thinking about when they’d laid in the hammock, talking and watching the stars. And after, when she’d snuggled into him and he’d laid there wondering if he’d ever been so happy in his life.

  He’d been trying to rock her world. But he hadn’t expected his world to be rocked, flipped upside down and inside out.

  His hookups with other girls had been fun. Casual. No strings. He always made sure things were consensual, and he never made any false promises about sex meaning anything other than a good time. It was cotton-candy sex—a rush, yeah, but light as air.

  But sex with Amy was…was…not cotton candy.

  Damn. Why couldn’t he think of the right words this morning? He stared at the ceiling as if the perfect description would magically write itself in the fading paint. Why had it been different with her? Not just different but better. Way, way better. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he’d agreed to be her coach. Maybe sneak a few kisses when it was obvious they had an insane chemistry thing going, but not this. This constant desire to see her, to laugh with her, to watch her come alive. To touch her. It was a rush unlike anything he’d felt before, and he’d experienced plenty of rushes.

  All the unexpected feelings had shaken him so much, he’d avoided Amy for two days— avoided everyone, really—turning off his phone and holing up and playing video games while he tried to sort out his head. He felt crappy about it, but he didn’t know what to do with everything swirling inside him. Plus, he’d said some cheesy stuff to her in the driveway when he took her home, about them having their own magic bubble, about him being a penguin, which made him cringe now.

  Still, he’d meant it at the time.

  Hell, maybe he still meant it. That’s what he needed to figure out.

  Somehow during their coaching gig, this whatever between them became…more. More than he knew what to do with. Until he figured it out, he’d wanted to keep his distance, but he couldn’t do that forever.

  Tonight was the engagement party. He’d asked Amy to come with him for support. He wasn’t going to un-invite her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing him. If Viv knew what had happened between them—which she probably did because girls told each other everything—

  Shit.

  He needed to get in the water, even though he technically wasn’t supposed to yet. Time on his board would clear his head and release the coiled-up energy tying him in knots. After that, maybe he’d know what to do with the complicated, confusing emotions pinging around in his head.

  And his heart.

  …

  Thirty minutes later, Toff stood on the beach. He’d snuck out of the house so his dad wouldn’t try to stop him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the briny scent of the ocean, the breeze blowing through his hair. Gulls cawed above him, and the rhythmic splashing of the surf on the sand matched his heart rate.

  Finally.

  He blew out a long, slow breath and opened his eyes. A few surfers were already out there, but the ocean was mostly all his.

  He knelt to Velcro the surfboard leash to his ankle, then jumped up, grabbed his board, and jogged into the water. He dove onto his board and paddled fast. When a three-foot wave came at him, he duck-dived under the water and came out on the other side, grinning. This was the only medicine he’d ever need.

  A vivid memory
of kissing Amy in the back of his van, limbs entwined, sent a jolt of heat through his body, as if to remind him that the ocean didn’t seem to be all he needed these days. Spending time with her had definitely helped the days pass. Not just the physical stuff but everything else, too.

  He kept paddling, scanning the water for a rideable wave. The other surfers welcomed him back.

  “Next one’s yours!” Murph called out.

  Nobody gave up their spot in the lineup willingly, but Murph was cool.

  “Thanks, man!” Toff yelled. In the distance, he spotted a promising swell in the water. He straddled his board, shading his eyes from the sun. He twisted his torso, testing the pain in his abdomen. It was definitely still there, but he could work with this. He’d just take it easy.

  “Mahalo.” He whispered the prayer of thanks he sent up to the surfing gods every time he was in the water. “I got this,” he told himself, then spun around, positioning himself with his back to the waves. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. This was a good one. It was like Huie the surfing god had sent him a welcome-back gift.

  He leaned right as he paddled perpendicular toward the beach, keeping his weight on the inside rail. As the wave began to lift his board, he popped up, leaning in and taking the drop like he’d been surfing every day instead of stuck on land. He rode the water as easily as a knife spreading melting butter on bread.

  All the agitation and frustration of being landlocked melted away as his body did what he was born to do. He didn’t need or want anything but this.

  Everything else was just…gratuitous. A distraction.

  Except, the moment the thought hit him, it felt wrong. Amy wasn’t just a distraction.

  He had to fix this.

  …

  It had been two days since the big event. Two days since Toff had texted, Snapped, FaceTimed, or called. She’d texted him once, late last night when she couldn’t take the silence anymore, asking if he was feeling okay, but he hadn’t replied.

  Her stomach was tied up in knots, and so was her heart.

  “This stinks,” Viv said. They sat in the bookstore kitchen, powering through snacks. Viv had put a ring bell for service sign on the counter so they could have a private conversation. “You said you two were just having fun, but I knew it was more than that. I really saw it when you did the vlog.”

  “It started out as fun,” Amy said, heaving a sigh. “But with me already crushing on him, and some of the conversations we had…” She crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing tight, like that would somehow protect her heart. “It felt like more than just fun, especially, um, that night.” Her vision blurred, but she refused to cry.

  She didn’t regret that night. She’d wanted sex as much as he had, and he’d made her feel safe. He’d been sweet, and patient, and then…well…wow. That night was a magic bubble like Toff’s protective one, where everything flowed and felt perfectly right in the heat of the moment.

  But now she wondered if she had imagined, or exaggerated, the connection between them. She didn’t think so. They’d spent a lot of time together outside of working on the contest. He’d pushed her out of her comfort zone, because he believed in her. He’d seen something in her she hadn’t. She’d told him about her fears, and he’d told her about his mom and his anxiety about his dad marrying Rose. He’d taken her to his secret hideout—no one else—and shown her how he felt. Or how she thought he felt.

  “I can ask Dallas to beat him up,” Viv said, nibbling on a cracker. “Not too badly, since he’s his bro-dude, but enough to knock some sense into him.”

  Amy shook her head. She didn’t want to hurt Toff. She wanted to look into his eyes and ask him what the heck was going on, but she didn’t have that much swagger. If he didn’t want to see her, she wasn’t going to throw herself in his path.

  But if she went to the party tonight, she’d definitely be in his path.

  “You’re sure you want me to come to the engagement party?”

  “Of course! I was going to ask you to come. Toff just beat me to it.” Viv scowled. “You’re my friend. That’s more important than whatever that idiot Flipper does. I want you there, and so does my mom.”

  Amy gave Viv a wobbly smile. She loved Viv and Rose. She wanted to go. No matter how things were between Toff and her, she hoped he’d eventually be okay with the wedding, for his dad’s sake. And his own.

  “Yeah,” she said, dropping her gaze. “I guess I have to see him sometime. Might as well be at a party where I can avoid him. Please tell me I’m not the TSTL heroine in my own stupid story.”

  “You are not too stupid to live,” Viv said firmly.

  Maybe not, but letting herself start to fall for Mr. No Strings Attached was stupid. She groaned. “Just imagine what Lucinda Amorrato would say. Her alpha heroines are always kicking butt and taking names. Romance is their side gig.”

  “Not always,” Viv said. “She’s written about beta girls and guys, too. They kick butt in different ways.” Viv reached across the table to squeeze Amy’s hand. “You’ve had an intense summer, and you’ve just hooked up with your dream guy, who’s now being a jerk. If he doesn’t talk to you tonight, I’m going to kick his surfer ass all the way to the moon.”

  Amy was quiet for a long beat. “It’s a great ass,” she finally said, darting Viv a half-embarrassed smile. “Don’t damage it permanently.”

  Viv’s mouth dropped open, and a few cracker crumbs fell out.

  “Don’t look so shocked. It is.” Amy was proud of herself for making a joke, even as doubt swept over her again.

  She might not be too stupid to live, but she was definitely in way over her head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The sound of ancient rock music and a whirring sander drew Toff to his dad’s workshop.

  He would’ve stayed out in the water longer, but he was tired, which sucked, and he had to go to Viv’s to help with prepping for the engagement party.

  He’d have to work on his endurance to be ready for the Summer Spectacular. That meant that his body was going to need to spend every spare hour out on the water, as opposed to where he craved to be––with Amy.

  He’d accepted that much while spending wave after wave thinking about her and not what he was doing on his board. He needed to get out of his head, to stop worrying about whether or not he and Amy could make something out of whatever they had going, and make a damn decision. It was the best thing he’d ever had with a girl, and he wanted to keep it. Somehow. That’s the part he wasn’t sure of yet.

  Toff leaned in the doorway, swigging Gatorade and watching his dad shape the nose of a six-four short board. Foam dust dotted his dad’s beard like snow. Toff thought back to when his dad had made him his first custom board and how stoked he’d been. His dad made all his boards—his eggs, his big-wave guns, and his long boards.

  Slammer, a surfer who somehow survived on the cash he made from Toff’s dad and delivering pizza, was hyper-focused on glassing a board, smoothing down the thin sheet of fiberglass with a squeegee. Toff liked that job, too, finding just the right pressure to apply and getting into a Zen groove.

  His dad powered off his sander and looked up, removing his protective mask. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

  Of course his dad knew he’d snuck out to the beach. He was surprised Dad wasn’t mad, since he hadn’t gotten final doc clearance yet. Maybe he was in a good mood because of the engagement party.

  “Not long enough.”

  “Your endurance will bounce back.” His dad wiped his sweaty brow and grinned. “You’re young and full of piss and vinegar, like your grandma says.”

  Slammer glanced up, shooting Toff a quick grin. “Not lasting long enough? With waves or girls?”

  Toff rolled his eyes and crossed the room to check out the board his dad was shaping.

  “No pain?”
his dad asked.

  Toff shrugged. “Not much. I paced myself.”

  “Good, but I want you to stay off your board until your doc appointment next Friday. Coach will kill both of us if you don’t.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Toff ran his hand along the board’s edge, wondering how many hours Dad would spend on this one. Surfers from all over the world loved his custom boards. His dad assessed surfers quickly—their body shape, their skill level, how aggressively they attacked the water or not. Each board was unique, and the battered file cabinet was stuffed with hundreds of postcards, letters, and printed emails full of praise. His dad was an artist. Like Z in Surf’s Up, carving boards out of trees.

  “We’ll hit the cove once Doc clears you,” his dad said. “Bring Dallas with us.”

  Toff nodded. Hitting one of their favorite local surf spots sounded good.

  “Aren’t you heading to Rose’s house to help decorate for tonight?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Dad studied Toff’s face, then lowered the sander and tilted his head at Slammer. “Give us a few, Slam.”

  Slammer nodded, removing his face mask and ducking out the door.

  “What’s up?” Dad took a long drink from his water bottle, then wiped his mouth on the back of his work glove. “Everything okay?”

  Toff shrugged. Now that he had Dad’s full attention, he was having trouble finding the right words. Dad brushed sanding dust off the board, waiting patiently. He’d always been that way, ever since Toff was a kid, giving him time and space to figure out what to say and when. Especially after Mom died. Toff squeezed his eyes shut, sending up a quick prayer to Mom. She knew what he wanted to say.

  “So…you’ve been in love. Twice,” Toff said.

  Dad tossed aside his work gloves. “Yes.” He pointed to the beat-up chairs in the corner of the workshop. “Let’s sit.”