I laughed. “This is true. Why wait? Let’s get started right now.”
I was teasing, and she knew it because she leaned against me, her hands drawing my head down toward hers. “Well,” she said with a smug little grin. “Maybe we don’t have to start right this second…”
Then she kissed me, and I had to agree—right now, there was nothing more important than kissing my girl.
* * *
THE END
Epilogue
My Fake Boyfriend
A Sneak Peek of book 3 in the Sweet Mountain High Series
By Lacy Andersen
Mia Jackson
Life at Sweet Mountain High had never been this exciting – or this newsworthy. As I waded through Tim Pfieffer’s crowded house, I couldn’t help but feel lightning shocks of excitement in my belly. Tim was celebrating his big and unexpected win as President of the Student Council by throwing a raging party. There were people dancing on tables in the dining room, a nighttime corn hole tournament in the back yard, nerf basketball in the living room, and I was pretty sure I heard a whisper that a D&D game was going on in the basement.
Nerds and jocks unite!
Students from nearly every social group were here tonight, and that was something worth publishing about in The Prowler, Sweet Mountain High’s newspaper. With my trusty miniature notebook in hand, I searched through the party, looking for my angle. It had to be good. Lindsey Beck, editor of the school’s newspaper, would settle for nothing less than spectacular. Not that she’d ever published any of my pieces. She pretty much hated me. But I had to try. The moment my gaze fell on Kate Andrews and Miller Hardwell cozying up on a chair on the back patio, I had it.
Everybody loved a good love story.
"Guys, got a few seconds for me?" I asked, pushing through the sliding glass door. It was a little windy outside. My blonde curls fell into my face, and I blew them away with a puff of air, my attention totally focused on my targets. "It’s for The Prowler."
They both paused making adorable goo-goo eyes at each other to look at me.
"Sure, Mia," Kate said, shifting her position on Miller’s lap. "What do want to know?"
I took the empty seat across from them as I flipped to a blank space in my notebook. A few of the baseball jocks had set up camp nearby and were tossing up empty cans and hitting them into the pool with a limp pool noodle. They cheered every time one of them made contact, and I had to resist rolling my eyes as I scribbled Kate’s name and tried to maintain focus.
Jimmy Alston stood in the midst of the group with his wavy black hair, vivid green eyes, and that ridiculous grin that for some reason made girls swoon over him. It figured. He was always causing trouble – and always getting out of it.
It was obvious that Jimmy and his other jock friends were only concerned about baseball and pulling pranks on innocent people. Honestly, I seriously doubted whether Jimmy remembered I was still alive. As a senior, he was one year ahead of me at school and set to graduate in a few months. I kept a fifteen-foot radius around him at all times. Back in middle school, I’d almost been a victim of one of his pranks, but he’d learned his lesson.
Mia Jackson was tougher than she looked.
"I’d love to write about what happened to make you guys both drop out of the race at once," I said, redirecting my attention back to the couple. "Can you give me any juicy details? What happened?"
"Well, I guess you could say that I did it for him," Kate said, giving me a sweet smile. She batted her eyelashes at Miller, running her hand down his arm. "I just didn’t think he could take losing to me. The male ego is so fragile, you know?"
Miller burst out with a laugh and then tickled her, making her squeal. "Right, okay. If that’s how it’s going to be, then I officially quit the race because I knew Kate would be too intimated to date a presidential figure."
Kate huffed and crossed her arms. "Whatever."
"It’s true." He winked at me. "I couldn’t have her running away from me, just when I’d fallen for her."
I bit back a smile as Miller tugged teasingly on Kate’s blonde ponytail and then pulled her gently in for a kiss. It was too cute for words.
Almost.
This was exactly what I needed to get my story into print. Love and intrigue—that was what sold. Kate and Miller had both. They’d started out as enemies and eventually came together, throwing the election. It was perfect. My pencil flew over the pages of my notebook, ideas flowing like water. Combined with the notes from my interview earlier with President-elect, Tim Pfieffer, I was set. Lindsey would have to publish my article. All I’d ever wanted was to be a real journalist. And this was the first step.
A loud noise sounded behind me. And then a shout. I ignored it, scribbling away, until the first droplet of water fell on my page. I made a move to shield it from any further spray, but it was too late. A tidal wave followed, drenching every inch of me in chlorinated water.
I sprang from my seat, droplets flying off of me like a dog shaking off after a bath. I didn’t care about any of that. My clothes would survive. My hair would probably frizz up. That, I could live with that. But my notebook couldn’t. As I desperately looked around for somewhere to dry it off, the writing on it began to blur. The eventual reality of the situation hit me as I tried to flip through the pages and they stuck together. My notebook was a goner.
And so was my story.
"Heads up," a voice called from the pool, followed by laughter.
I turned toward it, fury burning in my gut. Jimmy was wadding in the deep end of the pool, still wearing a black tee and shorts. By the evidence of the splatter around the pool, he’d obviously cannonballed right near where I’d been sitting. He swam over to the ladder, pulling himself out of the water with muscular arms that stretched the fabric of his wet t-shirt. It was kind of hard not to stare as he shook water out of his hair and ran a hand through it. It was almost like he was walking in slow motion. He laughed and high-fived his friends, which was when I finally found my voice again.
"You ruined my story," I said, holding out my drenched notebook as proof. "Look what you did."
I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish. It wasn’t like Jimmy could bring my notebook back from the dead. Maybe some sort of lame form of justice? I couldn’t be sure. But Jimmy surprised me when he paused just long enough to shoot me a sympathetic frown.
"Sorry. Didn’t see you there."
It figured. Jimmy Alston couldn’t see past his own perfectly sculpted nose to notice us ordinary people. This was his world, and we only lived in it.
"That’s great, just great," I mumbled to myself as I moved my soggy shoes back toward the house.
Kate and Miller had already slipped away during the commotion, no doubt to enjoy each other’s company without the distraction of hard-boiled journalists like me to poke at them. And from the looks of Tim Pfieffer winning an arm-wrestling contest on the living room coffee table, it seemed he would be out of commission for a while as well. My story was dead in the water—literally. It would be a while before I found the right one that would get me into the pages of The Prowler.
I was almost through the sliding glass door, on my way to nurse my wounds, when someone tapped on my shoulder. Turning around, I nearly dropped my soggy notebook. Jimmy Alston stood there—his green eyes slanted down in apology.
"Here." He held out my tiny golf pencil. "You must’ve dropped this."
Suspicion clouded my head. Still, I reached out and snatched it from his hand, avoiding as much contact as possible. "Thanks."
"Sorry about drenching you." The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. "I really didn’t mean to. The guys pushed me in."
I crossed my arms over my chest, unsure whether to believe him. But that smile was strangely disarming. It was no wonder he always managed to get his way out of trouble. He knew just how to act to smooth things over. "Right. Well, okay. Thanks for that, I guess."
"Sure." Someone called his name, and he made a ste
p in their direction, his green eyes flashing at me one last time. "Sorry, again."
With that, he was off, no doubt to cause more trouble. I stood there watching him go, feeling utterly disappointed in myself. I could’ve chewed him out. Could’ve put him in his place. But I’d stood there all tongue-tied. It really didn’t get more pathetic than that.
The only thing I could do was have faith that someday, Jimmy Alston would get his payback. He couldn’t charm his way out of every situation. And I would be there to see it when it happened. Or better yet – to report on it.
Love and intrigue. That was what made a story. And I was going to find the best story of all.
It was only a matter of time.
Grab the next book in the Sweet Mountain High Series, My Fake Boyfriend HERE!
* * *
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Maggie Dallen is a big city girl living in Montana. She writes adult and young adult romantic comedies in a range of genres. An unapologetic addict of all things romance, she loves to connect with fellow avid readers on Facebook, Twitter or at www.maggiedallen.com.
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My Know-It-All Nemesis: Sweet Mountain High Page 11
