Meet Your Match (No Match for Love)

by Lindzee Armstrong

  Contents

  description

  title page

  other books by

  copyright

  dedication

  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

  Dear Reader,

  now available

  acknowledgements

  author bio

  Sixteen-year-old Brooke Pierce doesn’t need her mom to tell her all boys are trouble. After watching her dad break up the family for a woman half his age, dating is the last thing on her mind.

  On the first day at a new high school Brooke meets Luke, the school flirt with a reputation for heartbreak. He’s interested. She’s not. That only makes him chase her more. After a shocking revelation from her dad, Brooke and Luke form an unexpected bond, complete with crazy rules to keep them safely in the friend zone. Problem is, that’s the worst place to be when you’re falling in love.

  MEET YOUR MATCH

  a No Match for Love novella

  by

  Lindzee Armstrong

  Other Books by Lindzee Armstrong

  Miss Match

  Wishing on Baby Dust (published under Lydia Winters)

  First Love, Second Choice (part of the Sweet and Sassy Anthology: Hidden Identities)

  Copyright © 2015 by Lindzee Armstrong

  Published by Snowflake Press

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover Design by Novak Illustrations

  Interior Design by Snowflake Press

  Tooele, UT

  ISBN 978-0-9863632-1-4

  Library of Congress Control Number 2015905504

  Dedicated to my match, Neil. I love you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Are you nervous?”

  Brooke turned toward the open car window, closing her eyes as the sea breeze ruffled her hair. “What do you think?”

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She heard the frown in her mom’s voice, even if she couldn’t see it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mom reach to turn down the radio, then move her hand back to the steering wheel.

  “You’re the one making this hard,” Brooke said.

  “No, your father made this hard. I’m not the one who slept with my dental hygienist. Feet off the dashboard.” Her mom’s voice was clipped, her words laced with anger and frustration.

  Brooke complied, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Why can’t I go to my old high school?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because we had to move. Maybe because I can’t afford a million dollar house on my paycheck. Maybe because you’ll acclimate better if you attend the same school as our neighbors.”

  “I don’t want to ‘acclimate.’” Brooke made air quotes with her fingers. “In three months I haven’t made a single friend at that stupid apartment complex. So why do I have to go to Canyon Crest?”

  “Brooke, please.” She heard the exhaustion in her mother’s tone—the pleading.

  Brooke hugged her backpack tighter to her chest. “This sucks.” Stupid Dad. Stupid Shandi, with her fake boobs and Botox.

  “You’ll make new friends soon enough. Look on the bright side—at least it’s everyone else’s first day too.” Her mom pulled to a stop in front of the school. It sprawled out over the property in numerous buildings, intimidating and large. “Want me to walk you to class?”

  “Yeah, because that’ll get me friends.” I really wish you could walk me to class without making me look like a freak. “I’ll be fine, Mom.” Brooke unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door.

  Her mom grabbed her hand, pulling her close for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, sweetie.”

  “Yeah.”

  Brooke felt her mom’s gaze on her all the way into the school. She’d registered for classes last week, so she bypassed the front office and headed toward first period Honors English in building D. Apprehension had her legs shaking as she made her away across the campus dotted with palm trees. She hated this. She hated starting over.

  She hated her dad for doing this to them.

  Wasn’t love supposed to be forever? She knew divorce happened, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to her parents. They were the happily ever after everyone talked about. Except they weren’t. Brooke had sensed things were unraveling months before the affair was exposed. It had been subtle, almost imperceptible. Late nights at the office. Arguing between her parents. Her dad suddenly making frequent gym visits. And Brooke had been forced to watch it all, dreading the inevitable end.

  Why had her dad hired stupid Shandi?

  Brooke clenched her jaw and flung open the door to building D. Her ears instantly filled with the chatter of friends reuniting after summer break. Brooke weaved her way through the crowds of people congregating at open lockers, eyes steadfastly on her feet. She wasn’t in the mood to introduce herself to new people and act like life was great when it wasn’t. At least no one was coming up to her with sympathetic smiles and words that did nothing to make her feel better. Maybe a new start wouldn’t be so bad after all. Here she didn’t have to explain about the separation to anyone.

  Brooke found her locker and spun the dial, then placed her lunch inside. The bell rang, signaling five minutes until the tardy bell. Brooke hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and headed toward room one hundred and eight.

  The room wasn’t unique—bulletin boards covered in butcher paper, the smell of dry erase markers and antiseptic. Desks on either side of the room faced each other, leaving a large aisle down the center. Brooke had never minded this type of classroom setup. Until today. With only three rows of desks on each side, it would be harder to hide. A few students milled around the room, chatting with friends. Brooke took an empty seat on one of the back rows and sat down. She quickly pulled a book out of her backpack—Emma, her favorite Austen novel—and buried her face in it. Maybe if she read, she wouldn’t have to introduce herself to anyone.

  I have to make friends eventually. This is where I’m stuck for the next two years. Even though her parents were in mediation, she had little hope the two would get back together. Two years. Then she could head to Los Angeles and become a real matchmaker. It had been her dream ever since reading an article about matchmaking in a magazine three years earlier, but her parents’ separation made it seem hollow.

  Brooke closed her eyes, fighting back the pain. She was good at matching people up. She knew who would fit and who wouldn’t. That giggling couple by the white board, for example—they were sending out signals all over the place that they were into each other. His hand on her arm, her fingers twirling her hair, their eyes dancing away and back to each other. They would work, for a year or two at least, which was practically an eternity in high school terms. She knew it just like she knew the guy flirting with the girl by the pencil sharpener did it to show off to his friends.

  “Luke!” A boy with bleached blonde hair and skater shoes jumped across a desk and bumped fists with another guy
. “How was your summer?”

  “Awesome.” The second boy grinned, and Brooke’s breath caught in her throat. He had the straightest, whitest teeth she’d ever seen. And those eyes … they were so blue she could tell the color even from across the room. Not a light blue like hers, but darker, more intense. He wore a letterman’s jacket and had cheekbones that were to die for. His hair was dark and messy and perfect.

  No. You’re not allowed to have a crush on anyone this year, Brooke. She was through with men, at least temporarily.

  “Heard you and Beth broke up,” Skater Shoes said.

  Luke shrugged. “It was good while it lasted.”

  “It lasted a month.”

  Luke scratched his head. “It wasn’t working out.”

  “You’ll find someone else soon,” Skater Shoes said, then made kissing noises.

  Luke shoved the boy. “Shut up, Chris.” Luke motioned his head toward Brooke.

  She quickly buried her nose in her book, hoping they hadn’t caught her staring.

  “So who’s the new girl?” Luke asked in a lowered voice. It was almost a whisper, and Brooke struggled to pick out the words.

  “Not sure. A transfer from another high school?”

  Brooke sunk a little lower in her seat, feeling her cheeks heat. She had to fill in a few blanks, but caught the gist of what they were saying. In a school of two thousand students, she hadn’t thought her status as “new girl” would be so obvious.

  “Huh.” It sounded like Luke again.

  “… next conquest,” Chris said, punching Luke in the arm. Were they still talking about her? “She’s hot.”

  “Shut up, man.”

  Chris made more kissy sounds. “If you don’t ask her out, I will.”

  Brooke’s fingers tightened around the book. They most definitely were talking about her, even if she did have to strain to hear. Don’t acknowledge them. They’re just guys being guys. And guys suck.

  “Doesn’t she get a say in the matter?” Luke’s voice had risen, although still a quiet whisper. “She looks like the kind of girl who has better taste than you.”

  “So you do think she’s hot.”

  “Shh, she’s going to hear us. Yeah, okay. She’s hot.”

  “Maybe she can be your next Beth.”

  And maybe hell will freeze over too.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The new girl was beautiful, but not in the way most of the school’s beach babes were. Her hair, long and brown with golden highlights, fell around her shoulders in soft curls. Her skin was fair, her nose and cheekbones dusted with freckles. And her eyes were gorgeous—the same light blue as the Oklahoma Thunder’s basketball jerseys.

  Luke had seen her glancing over at them. Knew she probably overheard some of their conversation. Awkward. Why did Chris have to be so loud?

  He gave Chris another fist bump. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

  Chris started up the kissing sounds again. Luke ignored him and slid into the desk next to the girl’s. Chris slid into the one on the other side of Luke, obviously wanting to overhear the conversation.

  “Hey,” Luke said.

  She barely glanced up from the novel she read. “Hi.” Her voice was flat, and far from friendly.

  Chris would never let him live it down if she gave him the cold shoulder. Luke had a reputation to protect. He stuck out a hand. “Luke Ryder.”

  She reluctantly lowered the book and put her hand in his. Her skin was smooth, her shake quick and firm. “Brooke Pierce.”

  “I noticed you from across the room.” He flashed her a winning smile, the one girls always melted over. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t melt, just rolled her eyes.

  The bell rang then, signaling the start of class. Mrs. Chapman stood at the front of the room, waiting for the students to settle down. “Welcome to your first day of eleventh grade Honors English,” she said.

  Luke settled back in his seat, glad for the interruption. It’d give him some time to figure out how to unthaw the Ice Queen.

  Mrs. Chapman walked around the room, placing a syllabus on each desk as she described the material they’d cover that semester. Then she actually made them read a short story aloud from their literature textbook and discuss the themes portrayed. On the first day of class. Luke fought back an eye roll. It was great to see his friends again—the ones he wasn’t close enough with to bother keeping in touch over summer break—but the beginning of the school year was always such a drag.

  “Since we have a few minutes left before the bell, turn and introduce yourself to your neighbor. I expect a lot of class discussion, and I want everyone to get comfortable with each other.”

  Thank you, Mrs. Chapman. Luke couldn’t hide his grin as he turned back to the new girl, Brooke. “So, where were we? Oh yeah, I remember. You’re new.”

  Brooke shifted in her chair, her fingers playing with the corner of her book. “Perceptive. Forgive me if I hold the applause.”

  So Ice Queen was sassy. Luke liked her more and more by the second. “Where are you from?”

  “Not far. I’m a transfer from Westview.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. Despite being in a different school district, Westview wasn’t far from Canyon Crest, maybe a ten minute drive. “Why the transfer?”

  Brooke sighed as though she didn’t want to get into it. “My mom and I moved into the district. She thought it would be better in the long run if I transferred.”

  “That’s not a big move. Did you guys buy a new house or something?”

  “Or something,” Brooke agreed.

  Man, but she was evasive. “Well, I’m a pretty nice guy. I could show you around, introduce you to some people. Let you sit with my group at lunch.”

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed, and there was a storm inside their depths he hadn’t expected. “Thanks, but I don’t hang out with guys looking for conquests.”

  So she had overheard. Either she had super hearing, or he wasn’t great at whispering. I’m going to kill Chris. Luke chuckled uncomfortably. “Chris was being lame.”

  “Whatever.”

  Luke held up his hands. “Honest. Come on, give me a chance.”

  The bell rang then. “See you tomorrow,” Mrs. Chapman called in the background.

  Brooke slid her book into her backpack and stood. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need friends like you two.”

  “We were just kidding around,” Luke called at her retreating back.

  Chris wrapped an arm around his neck. “She turned you down, huh?” He shook his head. “I hate to say ‘I told you so.’”

  Luke shrugged off Chris’s arm. “She just doesn’t know me yet. But she will.”

  “Maybe I’m more her type.” Chris put a hand dramatically over his chest. “Sensitive. Caring. Attractive.”

  Luke pushed him. “Arrogant.”

  “Oh, so you’re more her type.”

  “I just need to lay some ground work.” He couldn’t let Chris win.

  “Don’t take too long. She turned you down, which means she’s up for grabs.”

  Luke grinned. Things had just gotten interesting.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brooke found a deserted corner in the Commons during lunch—no one seemed to actually eat in the lunch room except the ultra-losers of the school—and hunkered down to hide. I hate you, Dad. The phrase repeated over and over in her head as she ate lunch. This is your fault.

  It wasn’t like she wanted her parents to get back together. Once a cheater, always a cheater, and her mom deserved better than that. But why hadn’t Dad tried to be good enough?

  Someone cleared her throat, and Brooke looked up. A girl grinned down at her, lunch tray balanced in one hand. “Can I sit here?” she asked. “Being the new girl is so inconvenient. I’m Zoey, by the way.”

  “Brooke. I’m new too.” Glad I’m not the only one.

  Zoey sank onto the floor. “Excellent. Where do you hail from?”

  �
�About ten miles from here.”

  “I’m from Denver.” Zoey flipped her hair over one shoulder. It was nearly black, with violently pink streaks throughout. “My dad had to get a freakin’ promotion so we moved. My junior year. Can you believe that? What year are you?”

  “Junior. And yeah, it sucks.”

  “At least the weather’s beautiful. It was snowing when we left Denver last week. Just flurries, but still. It’s nice to pull my shorts back out.” Zoey pulled a piece off her roll and popped it in her mouth. “Ten miles isn’t far. Why’d you switch schools?”

  “My stupid dad.”

  “Ooo, sounds like a good story.” Zoey raised an eyebrow.

  Brooke was usually reluctant to tell people about her parents, but somehow she knew Zoey wouldn’t give her false pity. “He had an affair with Shandi the Dental Hygienist. When Mom found out, we moved.”

  Zoey winced. “Ouch. Are your parents getting divorced?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.” Brooke dragged her fork through the ranch dressing on her plate. “They’re separated right now, and they’re going to counseling. But only because the courts are forcing them since they have to discuss custody of me. My mom wouldn’t have made me switch schools if she was planning on getting back together with him.”

  “That’s rough.” Zoey blew out a breath, puffing the bangs off her forehead. “My problems don’t seem so bad now. Moving plus a separation definitely trumps moving. Even if I did have to move farther.”

  “Already making friends, I see,” a deep voice said.

  Brooke whipped her head around. Luke settled beside her on the floor with a grin. He’d ditched the letterman’s jacket, and Brooke blinked in surprise. His shirt stretched across his chest, and the muscles there made him look much older than seventeen.

  “You don’t have to sit here,” Luke said. “I told you I’d save a place. We’re on the stairs over there.” He pointed.