Right Kiss Wrong Guy (Offsides #2)
Page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2018 by Natalie Decker
RIGHT KISS WRONG GUY by Natalie Decker
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Epub ISBN: 978-1-946700-51-3
Mobipocket ISBN: 978-1-946700-52-0
Published by Swoon Romance, Raleigh, NC 27609
Cover design by Danielle Doolittle
Sometimes a little mystery is just what the heart needs.
Ethan and Leeah, you’re the best parts of me.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
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Chapter One
Juliet
“Juliet … Juliet! Wake up!” Layla says as she shakes the crap out of my body. “Tyler will be here in ten minutes if you want a ride.”
“Go. Er … Ah,” I grumble into my pillow at my twin.
“I don’t know what you are saying under there.” She yanks my fluffy shield away from my face. “You gotta get out of bed sleepy head. You can’t go to school in your PJ’s,” she sing-songs in the most chipper voice ever.
Ugh. Morning people suck. I roll over onto my back and shoot my twin a glare. “Watch me.” I wrangle myself out of bed and head to the bathroom.
Before I reach the bathroom, Layla says, “Run a flat iron through that rat’s nest you call hair and be sure to throw on some lip gloss. You don’t wanna look like roadkill returning to school after break.”
Like anyone will really notice, I want to reply. I’m not the popular one. I’m the girl who happened to witness her boyfriend making out with some cheerleader during the winter formal. I’ve got no one to impress anymore. It’s back to square one. Over break, I realized I’d wasted too much time pining over a fairytale ending. For what? There are only a few good chivalrous guys out there, and most of them are already taken.
I stalk into the bathroom and check out my reflection. Okay, my hair is a hot mess, but I don’t care. Usually, I’d grab a brush and fix it but honestly, the only thing that will do is make my hair unruly. But caring about my looks didn’t stop Mark from sticking his tongue down Selena Jensen’s throat, did it? Nope.
I brush my teeth and then wash my face. I walk back to my room, change into a black shirt and some sweat pants. This is probably the most unacceptable type outfit to dress in after my humiliating breakup but again, I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m ready for the day.
I step into the hallway. “Oh, good lord! Juliet, you’re not going out like that are you?” my sister asks.
“I am.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but you’re sending out ‘I’ll remain single for life’ vibes.”
I shrug and make my way down the stairs. Layla follows. I turn into the kitchen, and Layla touches my shoulder. “Are you … um … sure you’re okay to drive to school? Ty can take us both and he can pick up Addy.”
I wish she’d stop worrying. I’m fine. Besides I’d much rather avoid witnessing them making gah-gah eyes at each other while he calls her ‘beautiful’ every five minutes? Addy might not care but I’ve had my fill of it. No, thank you.
The doorbell chimes and Layla shouts, “Bye, Mom!”
“Okay,” our mom says from the kitchen.
Layla opens the door. Tyler Richardson is there with a stupid smirk on his face. “Hey, babe. Ready?”
“Yep,” my sister answers.
I go to escape this lovefest, but Tyler says, “Hey J, wanna ride with us? We’re getting donuts.”
“No thanks.”
He shrugs. “All right, more glaze for me then.” He whispers to Layla, “Jeez, she’s still moody,” loud enough for me to hear.
Layla pushes him out the door and I weave into the kitchen right as my mother’s business phone sings, “I knew I loved you.” All I can say is and another love-sick fool is about to bite the dust, that sad-sad soul.
I don’t get why people turn to my mom for advice about relationships or how to find their true love. Her phone rings non-stop. It’s like every lonely person comes out of hiding and starts sobbing their entire life story every time they see one of her billboards. They’ve had such crummy luck with love and they need my mom to help them find their soul mate. Yadda-yadda-yadda. It makes me sick.
It only gets worse about six weeks before Valentine’s Day and during what my mom calls ‘wedding season.’
Valentine’s Day is the absolute worst day in the world. Hello people, it’s not even a real holiday. Nobody need should need a date to feel special. Buy some chocolates or a puppy. That should do. Don’t call my mom to help find that one person to make you feel complete. It’s a bunch of bullshit.
Yeah. I’m talking to you, Cupid. Take those arrows and shove them. I’m done with you and this whole love is in the air crap! Even if my last name is, “Angela Valentine, how can Be Mine Valentine help you today?” my mom says into her Bluetooth.
Yes. My last name is Valentine and my mom … she’s a matchmaker. That’s beside the point. I’m not bitter. Okay, maybe I am because of Mark but I’ve learned my lesson. Never again.
Who cares if my sister found it and is all gooey happy? So, what if my mom is dating again? That doesn’t mean everyone has to do it, right?
I enter the kitchen and snatch an apple from the bowl on the counter near the fridge. My mom is typing away on her laptop, probably setting someone up on a date.
“Sarah, can you please hold for a second?” my mom says, as I pass the counter.
“Juliet.” She still has her eyes trained on her computer. I’m the only one
who eats apples for breakfast in the house. So, of course, she knows it’s me without looking. “Can you run by the dry cleaners after school and pick up my suits?”
I take a huge bite out of my apple. “Sure.” I continue to exit.
She gasps, and I turn around. My mom’s gaze locks with mine. “Oh, my.” She pauses. “Tell me you couldn’t find a hairbrush.”
I take another bite of my apple and mutter. “Yep, that’s what happened. I’ll pick up the suits after school.”
She leaves the table, strides to her purse, and slips me some money. She gives me a once over then shakes her head as she retreats to her laptop and phone call. For a second there, I thought she was going to tell me to go upstairs and find a hair tie.
I grab my backpack hanging near the door, drop the money into one of the zipper pockets, and pull out my keys. I open the door and spray chunks of apple from my mouth onto the person standing on the porch.
“Juliet, are you ready to talk?” Mark asks as he flicks pieces of apple off his shirt.
Chapter Two
Juliet
I stand there, dumbfounded. My brain is screaming at me to chuck my apple core right into his face and run. My legs are stone. I stare at the face that caused me so much pain.
“Juliet?” Mark says as if he’s unsure now whether it’s me or my twin.
I narrow my gaze. “Leave me alone.” I somehow break the frozen spell I was momentarily under and charge past him. He follows me.
“Please. We need to talk.”
The heck we do. I’ve heard enough. The lies he texted. The bullshit voice messages he left. Yep. None of them can erase that image from my mind. None of them can fix my shattered heart. If he knew what was good for him, he’d quit trying to apologize to me. He’d stop inching closer to my Wrangler.
I whip around before I open my door and yell, “I don’t need to talk to you!”
“Come on, Juliet. It was an honest mistake.”
Honest mistake? Does he expect me to believe he tripped and landed on Selena’s lips? I launch my half-eaten apple. It hits him in his crotch. He groans and bends forward. “Juliet,” he sighs.
I slide into my Wrangler and leave him hunched over in my yard.
I pull around the large fountain in my best friend’s driveway.
Addy and I have been friends since kindergarten. We bonded over our terrible names in Addy’s case hers is way worse than mine. Her full name is Adaline Bea Frost. Terrible, right? Her parents had a fight which grandmother they were naming her after. Hence why I will never name my children after anyone no matter what my future husband or boyfriend might say. When we were little, mean kids used to call Addy, Frosty Queen. Or worse Chills. Yeah, we go to school with unoriginal imbeciles. Because of her name, Adaline refuses to get her license until she can change it.
She rushes out of the house wearing leggings, a plaid skirt and a sweater. I eye her up with an elevated brow. “Wow, you’re wearing skirts now?”
“What? Don’t start. You’ll sound like my mom. Just drive.”
“What brought this on?” I ask.
She flips down my passenger side mirror and glosses her lips. “I think the questions to ask here is what is going on with your hair? I have an extra hair tie in my bag if you want it.”
“No thanks.” I pull out of her drive. “I’m trying to make sure all the boys are dying to go out with me.
She giggles. “All righty. Well, this is something my cousin bought me for Christmas. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”
“It looks nice.”
“Maybe it will help me score a date to the Valentine’s Day dance.”
Ugh. Now, she sounds exactly like one of my mom’s clients.
“You look angry. I know you said you didn’t want to go to any more dances. And this one is especially stupid. You’ve hated Valentine’s Day ever since third grade.”
Who wouldn’t? I got two cards. We were all supposed to get equal amounts of cards and candies and I got two. Mine went to Rachel Little. Even our teacher Mrs. Brewer didn’t give me a card. I got one from Jared Black and the other from Adaline. Chase was in another classroom, so I got his later. All right technically three, that’s not much better. After that, I had a bad taste for Valentine’s Day.
“Mark tortured me most of break with his constant crap and then had the nerve to show up at my door this morning.”
I glance over at her and catch her slight frown. “I’m sorry. I wish I was here during break,” she says.
I shrug as we roll up to a stoplight. “It’s all good. I threw my apple at him.”
“He deserves more than a silly apple tossed at him. More like a whole stack of books and bowling balls toppling on his head.”
I smile. The image of books and bowling balls cascading down on Mark’s head like in a cartoon pops in my head.
“Yay. You stopped having a frowny face. Mind if we listen to music?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Awesome.” She flips on the radio, and some damn love song blasts through my speakers. Just like that, my good mood vanishes.
Adaline grips my arm, yanks me off the path I was following, and hisses, “S.O.B coming your way.”
It snaps my attention as I make eye contact with Mark. Didn’t I make my point clear?
“Juliet, I need to talk to you.”
“No asshole! I warned you to leave her alone. Go make out with your new sophomore girlfriend,” Addy snarls.
“Stay out of this, Adaline! This is between me and Juliet,” Mark grumbles.
A crowd is forming around us. Much like at the dance. I’m regretting my decision to return to school today. “Mark, there is really nothing to say. It’s over,” I say in what sounds no more than a whisper. I can’t stand it. Why is my voice all weak now?
“Babe, I swear I didn’t kiss Selena. She attacked me and …” Before he can finish Tyler Richardson wraps Mark in a bear hug and pulls him away, sparing me from more embarrassment.
“Thanks, Love,” my sister says to her boyfriend Tyler as she helps Addy guide me in a different direction.
Layla whirls me around and asks, “You okay? I can call the school and pretend to be Mom, say you’re sick or something.”
“No. He’s not going to keep me from school,” I say. Although being anywhere else but here sounds wonderful.
Addy drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry Layla, Chase and I got her back.” I’m not a delicate flower, I can handle myself just fine.
Layla catches my gaze briefly. “It’s going to be okay. It hurts like hell for a while, but it subsides. Don’t pay attention to whatever the others say either. Keep your head down and just do you. Okay?”
I love my sister, but I just want to tell her to back off. In fact, I want everyone to back off. Treat me like I’m not here. People won’t notice me. Everything will go back to how it was before I dated that moron named Mark. “I got it. Go on and find your man,” I say.
Layla doesn’t buy into my tough girl act and shakes her head. “I’m serious. If it gets too much text me.”
“I didn’t bring my phone.” I don’t tell her that I didn’t bring my phone on purpose.
Addy saves me from further frowning coming from my sister. “I’ll text you if she decides to leave early.”
Layla smiles at her. “All right. I’ll see you in homeroom. Don’t forget we have a Junior Elite meeting today,” she says to both of us.
Yeah, I really don’t care about going to the meeting. They’re going to discuss ideas for raising more money for our trip to Italy, as well as decoration ideas for the Valentine’s Day Dance.
I nod and follow Adaline down the hall in the opposite direction of my sister.
As we’re shuffling past the other crowds of students filling the hallways, a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I jerk to my left and Chase gives me a puzzled stare. “You okay there, Valentine?”
“I thought you were someone else.”
&n
bsp; Adaline glances back at us. “We’re going to be late for homeroom.”
“Adaline, you need to calm down. We will get to homeroom with plenty of time to spare. You two better have the same lunch as me,” Chase states.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Adaline?” she pretends to sneer at him, but I know she likes it.
Chase shrugs. “It’s your name and I love your name. Get over it.”
That earns him an eye roll. We’re almost to our designated homerooms when someone giggles, “Wow, I didn’t think her wardrobe could get any worse. Brush her hair much?”
I glance down at myself than over at the person who made the comment. A thin, redhead bombshell with stylish shoes and designer everything looks me up and down. Her stingy remarks don’t stop either, “No wonder why Mark ditched her. What the hell did he even see in that anyway?”
Chase pulls me into a protective brotherly type hug basically shielding me from everyone’s view. He walks us a little further then guides me into my homeroom. “As soon as the bell rings for first period wait for me outside this room. I’ll walk you to your classes.”
“I’d rather you invented a machine to erase my memory,” I suggest.
He smiles. “There is the Valentine I know so well, I thought I lost you for a second. Don’t worry about Mark. He’s not worth it and I’m pretty sure there is a slew of people lining up to kick his ass for hurting you. Adaline being one, I’m the next, then your sister, Tyler, and a few more.”
“Thanks, Chase. You’re the greatest friend in the world.” I hug him tightly.
“I know. I gotta go. The bell is about to ring.”
He slips out of my embrace and runs down to his class which is at the other end of the hallway.
My homeroom teacher Mr. Dinkens picks up a stack of yellow papers from his desk and calls out names. “Audrey Unis?”
She goes up to the class and grabs her schedule. “Juliet Valentine?”
I take mine and return to my seat. There aren’t many people in my homeroom because one it goes by last names starting with U and ending in Z. Apparently, the bout of last names in this school starts with a B, S, or R.