by Cassie Mae
I shake my head to get rid of the fuzz. Is this for real? “So, the breakup …?”
“Fake.”
“The whole sex argument?”
“Sort of fake.”
I want to probe into that, but I will later. Because the most important thing I need to clarify comes out.
“And you don’t like Wesley?”
She laughs, reaching for my free hand. “I like him, but not like that. I already have my guy.”
“But that night when I stormed out, Wesley came outside and his shirt was all rumpled and …”
Reagan gives me a pinched smile, and Wesley jumps in.
“Wait, you thought we …? No, no, no. You ran out and I was on my feet in a second to come after you, then this ball of energy tackled me to the ground.” He waves at Reagan, who’s laughing and snuggling into Talon’s armpit. “When I got her off me, I was out the door and you and Talon were, you know, hugging and shit.”
Talon sighs, tracing a finger on Reagan’s shoulder. “Totally platonic, dude. I was only making sure she was all right. Ray warned me about the anxiety attacks Kayla gets when people fight, but I didn’t expect that. I had to apologize for it.”
We all settle into our seats, and at an almost turtle-like pace, things come together in my head. It was easy. Finding time to be alone, finding a “problem” and it coming to the surface when it did. Then after the fake breakup them being so cool about everything, asking us out, the whole “I Never” episode, even Talon telling me I belonged to someone, just not him.
Damn them! How did they pull this off without us figuring it out? I mean, it was orchestrated so well, I even ended up on a date with …
“Holy hell. I almost kissed you!” I blurt out at Talon, causing more eyeballs to go our way. “What would’ve happened if … I mean, you didn’t expect that, did you?”
Talon shakes his head, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “Yeah, I panicked. The only thing I could think of was to flip that lever and ruin the moment.”
And here I thought it was me who ruined it.
“Wait, Reagan almost kissed me that night. Explain that.” Wesley’s hand is still planted on my thigh, and his fingers give me a little squeeze.
Reagan’s smile hasn’t left her face since my first outburst. “I knew you wouldn’t go through with it. All you talked about was Kayla and what you thought she and Talon were doing.” In her best Wesley voice, she says, “ ‘Do you think they went to Stoner Boner? Maybe we should head up there and scare the shit out of them. You don’t think they’ve kissed, do you? That’d be weird, you know?’ Kayla this, Kayla that.”
She laughs as I watch Wesley’s face go red. I bite back my smile, letting go of all the confusion and snuggling into Wesley’s neck. How adorable is he? “Is that true?”
His shoulders relax and his hand moves from my leg to around my shoulder. “Of course. It drove me crazy all that night you were with him.” His mouth moves toward my ear, and in a low voice I don’t think the other two can hear, he says, “That’s the real reason I wanted you at my apartment that night. And I admit, I was stoked when you had a shitty time.” My heart may pound right out of my chest and smack him in the face.
He turns to Reagan, extending a hand. “Props to the two of you evil geniuses. I don’t think either of us had a clue.”
She gives him one hard shake, then leans into Talon’s arms. “Thank you. And be grateful you have two of the best friends in the world. Some would’ve found that evidence and called you out on it.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “We’re lucky enough to have friends who will be evil right along with us.”
We all laugh, and Talon orders us those drinks he promised forever ago. I want to ask more questions, but I let it slide. I’ll read that email Reagan sent later. Because does it matter that they totally played us? Their intentions were a million times better than ours. And when Wesley plants kisses on my forehead, squeezes my shoulder, or whispers some smart-ass comment in my ear, all those heart-pounding feelings push away everything else.
Play us all you want, guys, as long as I end up here in Wesley’s arms. I’ll never want to be anywhere else.
Progress Report: February 13 (and 14, if we’re getting technical)
How dorky is that? Wesley and I became official the day before Valentine’s Day. I hope he doesn’t try to get me flowers. I’m okay with making out all day instead.
Ha! That made him laugh. Yes, he’s reading over my shoulder as I write this, trying to get me to kiss him, but jeez, a girl needs a breather to mark down this epic day in the history of Kayla! Okay, he’s leaving me alone. Damn, he looks so sexy with make-out hair. I may have to make this short.
So Talon and Reagan are still trying to convince us this was their plan all along. I think I want to call bogus, because both Wesley and I got super close to kissing them. Especially Wesley, from what I heard. I try not to think too much about it, but at the same time I’m way happy he was the one to back out. (Because of me. Squee!)
I totally read Reagan’s email the second we got back to Wesley’s apartment. Okay, okay, not the very second, because it’s kind of hard to read when you’re pinned up against the wall and the person you love is doing something pretty magical with his lips.
But I spent a little time with that journal of hers, and it’s making me fall for Wesley even more. Is there a stronger emotion than love? Because that is what I feel.
I’ll bullet-point the most important parts. If Wesley would stop trying to tickle me, I’d get this done faster!
• All those late-night texts I thought were Wesley weren’t. It was Reagan and Talon figuring out how much longer it’d take for us to get a clue.
• The whole argument over sex was real, but the breakup was fake. They spent that whole day ignoring us hoping we’d end up together (yup) and that we’d be confused (yup, yup) so they could fix the mistake of fighting and making up so fast.
• Have they had sex yet? I still have no clue. But I also don’t really care either.
• The bracelet I saw? Yeah, Talon wasn’t going to get it for me. But Wesley was. Talon told him about it and Wesley was ready to spend everything he had. Talon stopped him (which was good, because I’d feel horrible if Wesley got evicted because of a Christmas present), then totally used it on me. I had no idea how whipped Talon was, because that was also Reagan’s idea.
• When I felt so alone because I thought everyone was doing stuff without me and being so blah about it, really Talon and Reagan were sneaking off together while Wesley worked his ass off. It makes me sad Wesley probably felt as disconnected as I did, and I wish I would’ve tried harder to get hold of him or something, but it’s all in the past now.
• Talon almost spilled the beans about everything so many times, but Reagan always talked him out of it.
• Wesley’s journal entry Reagan found said something like this: “I like Reagan. I have for a while, and I’ve tried really hard not to. But then there’s Mickey. Something about her makes me feel okay for it. Like she doesn’t think I’m some piece of shit for wanting someone I can’t have. She’s fun, and easy to be with, I’m going to miss that when all this is over. Because I have no idea how Talon doesn’t see her now. But he will, and when he does, he won’t let her go. She deserves to have what she wants, so even if it means I don’t end up with what I want … or at least what I think I want … she’ll at least be happy. That’s gotta be worth it, right?”
I. Love. Him.
Anyway, that’s pretty much the gist. And I could be super pissed, but I’m not. The way Reagan wrote everything made me really feel like she loves me, and saw what I couldn’t see till it was slammed in my face.
Also, I went back and read all my previous progress reports and wondered what the hell I was thinking. And that was only a couple of months ago! But I think (and this is me trying to be philosophical) I fell in love in the dark. There was someone in the dark with me, and I fell in love piece by piece, not kn
owing it was love I was feeling. I’m not sure he knew what it was either.
But every time a piece fell into place, a tiny light came on. You know, like when you turn on the lights at a football stadium or a gym, and the bulbs go on one by one. And Wesley was in the dark with me, slowly having those lights turned on.
Wesley says I’m making no sense. And he’s kissing my neck and really distracting me, so I blame him for my rambling.
Okay, I shoved him off, and I’m wrapping this up. My point? I guess sometimes you need a little help to fall in love with the right person. Other people can see it, because they’re not in the dark. And it’s not till you flip those lights on that you finally understand what it is you’re feeling.
So while Wesley and I fumbled around, searching for what we felt for each other, our best friends found a way to flip the switch.
Acknowledgments
Thank you my awesome, amazing, and oh-so-fabulous readers! I love you so much, I want to reach through the e-reader and squeeze you. (Wouldn’t that scare the crap out of you?) You make writing so worth it.
Thank you to my high school crush, whom I was too chicken to tell I love-love-loved you! And no, you don’t know who you are, ha-ha!
Thank you to my sister, Jenny, for always loving my books and pimping them on Facebook.
Thank you, Trojan, for making so many different kinds of condoms.
Thank you to (here we go with all my awesome critique partners) Theresa Paolo, Kelley Lynn, Rachel Shieffelbein, Jenny Morris, Jennie Bennett, Jessica Salyer, Hope Roberson, Leigh Covington, Suzi Retzlaff, and Jade Hart, for listening to me gripe and moan and whine and complain about this book and the headache it gave me while writing. For giving me virtual slaps. For loving Wesley. For telling me I use the word “just” too much, and for loving me enough to not dump me after this book. I love you guys. Way more than a normal person should love people they mostly talk to via the Internet. Squishy boob hugs for all of you!
Thank you, Brittany, for telling me I’m oh so perfect all the time. (Cough, cough.) Really, though, thank you for loving my books and selling the heck out of them. I tell everyone I have the best agent because I do. And they should all be jealous.
Thank you, Sue, for everything! For giving me scary edits so I can make this sucker much better, and for being a fan and an editor. I must’ve done something awesome in a past life to get lucky enough to work with someone like you.
Thank you, April and Kim, for responding to my many, many emails and making me feel like I’m a big deal when I’m so not. You guys make the whole marketing part so much fun.
Thank you, Crystal Velasquez and Sue Warga, for understanding what I was trying to say, and making this book a thousand times more comprehensible than it was.
Thank you, Random House team, for my cover, for my blurb, and for taking a chance on me. Can I hug an entire company? I’ll just squeeze the computer.
Thank you, Peggy from Le’ Booksquirrel, Lauren from Madison Says, and Mandy Miller for going above and beyond fabulous support. I love seeing my books pop up on your feeds, and every time you like my status or share a teaser, I hug my computer. Not joking. It happens a lot because you are awesome like that.
Thank you, Mommy and Daddy, for showing me how cute and gross parents can be when they kiss and snuggle in front of their kids.
Thank you, Becki, for always putting a small present in a big box. And for making it nearly impossible to save the wrapping because of all the tape you use.
Thank you, Yogurtland, for allowing someone to get suicide yogurts, and for providing a gummy bear topping.
Thank you, children, for telling Mommy Facebook is not work, for rubbing my back while I write, and for fighting with each other so I get off my butt every once in a while to see what’s going on.
And always last, because I doubt he’s read this far so I can be as cheesy as I want, thanks to my Hubby Bubby, for falling in love in the dark with me.
Photo: Rachel Schieffelbein
CASSIE MAE is a nerd to the core from Utah, who likes to write about other nerds who find love. She’s the author of the Amazon bestsellers Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend and How to Date a Nerd, and is the debut author for the Random House Flirt line with her New Adult novels Friday Night Alibi and Switched. She spends time with her angel children and perfect husband who fan her and feed her grapes while she clacks away on the keyboard. Then she wakes up from that dream world and manages to get a few words on the computer while the house explodes around her. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with the youth in her community as a volleyball and basketball coach, or searching the house desperately for chocolate.
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Read on for an excerpt from Cassie Mae’s
Friday Night Alibi
So … you need an alibi?
All packets are “Sundale approved,” and with me, Kelli Pinkins, as
your partner in crime, there will be NO WORRIES about
losing that trust fund. All you have to do is pick a packet,
memorize, and if the parentals give you the Q&A, you’ll
have your alibi all set for your Friday night.
Drive-In Packet—$100.00
Need a few hours? Well, the drive-in is the perfect place, with
double features on Friday nights!
Things you’ll need to memorize:
Movie plotlines and actors
What refreshments we ate
Dinner and Dancing Packet—$100.00
All dance and restaurant selections are Sundale approved!
Ballroom and Salsa. No clubs!
Things you’ll need to memorize:
What both of us ordered, and if we liked it
What dances we learned
Slumber Party Packet—$200.00
Need an all-nighter? Well, party at Kelli’s place! (Ladies only.
Sorry, gents, but saying you’re spending the night with me wouldn’t help much.)
Things you’ll need to memorize:
What movies we watched
What color we painted our nails
What games we played (Ouija boards are not approved!)
Each packet also requires you to memorize four topics we
discussed. (Nothing general either. In-depth stuff, I’m
talking here. This will all be in your own personalized
packet once purchased. All short-notice packets are double.)
These are just a few samples of what I offer. There are many,
many more, including museum dates, movie nights,
shopping sprees, etc. Whatever you need, I got!
You know how to reach me if you need to. I look forward to helping you out!
Chapter 1
I’m naked in the same room with Alex Finnigan. This is so not good for business.
Of all the places I thought someone would first see the fully grown boobs, I definitely didn’t picture the girls’ locker room at one of Georgia’s many Christian country clubs. But here we are. Alex must have some kind of superpower that pops off dead bolts because I could’ve sworn I locked up.
“Kelli Pinkins.”
Not even a quaver in his voice. He must be used to seeing bare chests. Why should I be any different?
“What do you want?” Yes, I’m confident, too. I don’t even reach for a towel, just continue rinsing the shampoo from my hair. It’s just business with him, after all.
He chuckles and sits on one of the benches, kicking his feet up against a locker. “The usual.”
“And it couldn’t wait till after I’m done getting the stench of tennis sweat off me?” I shut off the water and wring my hair out. Guys and their impatience. He’d better be paying me extra since he go
t a look at the goods.
“I kinda need it ASAP. Brianne’s expecting me at seven.”
I sigh and wrap a towel around me, then push his legs out of the way to get to my locker.
“You know that’s going to cost you. Short-notice packets are double.”
“That’s fine.”
Of course it’s fine. It’s always fine with every person in need of my services. They’ve got the money, and if they want to get that lovely thing called a “trust fund” when they turn twenty-one, they need me.
Their alibi.
One thing about Sundale, image is everything. If your churchgoing, button-down, I’m-going-to-run-a-charity-for-sick-kids son or daughter doesn’t live up to all of that, bye-bye, trust fund, hello, working at Dairy Queen. And heaven forbid they want to date someone outside of our perfect little community. There goes your college money. Sorry, guys, that’s not what Mommy and Daddy had envisioned for you.
But once that trust fund is signed over, that’s when the standing up to the ’rents starts. Since money is everything after all.
And true love, of course. But not till after you’re twenty-one. Just how it is. I didn’t make the rules.
It’s a good thing I keep spare packets in my purse. I’ve needed them way more than I thought I would, but it’s all good. One packet equals two hundred bucks. Cha-ching!
“Okay, how long are we talking about?” I ask, opening my locker and digging through my bag for the red emergency folders.
He kicks his feet back up. “Till midnight. So around five hours.”
Two hundred bucks for five hours? I’m making bank on this deal. And he’ll pay it. Alex and Brianne have reached that part in the relationship where I’m needed almost every weekend. Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan are going to start thinking him and I are getting it on … Well, they would if I wasn’t so dang good at my job.
