Her mouth drops open, then clamps shut in a narrow line of pretend anger. I laugh and swim close to her, pinning her against the wall with my body. She balances on the ledge that runs around the inside of our pool. She’s just tall enough that her head and shoulders are out of the water.
“I’m just kidding,” I say. “That was awesome.”
She smiles up at me, tugging off her goggles and tossing them behind her onto the deck. The sunlight glints off the necklace she’s wearing, the one that was stuffed in my dresser drawer for way too long.
“I can’t move, Slade,” she says. Water drips off her eyelashes and glistens on her lips.
“You have somewhere you need to be?” I press closer against her and lower my lips to hers.
We stay like that for a long time, until my dad totally kills the moment.
“If the entity formerly known as Slade and Trina is hungry, dinner’s ready.”
Trina giggles, pulling her lips away from mine. She looks up at my dad, grinning but embarrassed. I glance at him, annoyed. He’s wearing his dorky chef apron and holding a grill spatula in one hand like a scepter.
“Don’t you and Mom ever go out anymore?”
He smirks, pointing his scepter at us like we’re his minions. I sigh and rest my hands on the lip of the pool, keeping Trina caged between my arms.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “The entity isn’t ready yet.”
He waits for a few seconds, then turns and walks away, muttering under his breath.
“Good thing he likes me,” she teases.
“Yeah, I guess. Except if he liked you less, maybe we’d get more alone time.”
She chews on her lips, those cherry lips I’ve been obsessed with for months now. “We can leave after dinner, right?”
“Definitely.”
We do escape after dinner. We go to our favorite spot, walking along the canal trail in the dark, holding hands and talking.
“Just one more week of summer,” she says. “Then we’re done with the nanny gig.”
“Thank God.” I say. “Never again.”
She laughs. “I think Desi has the right idea. Selling pretzels is so low stress.”
“Compared to what we’ve been through? Hell yeah.”
“Did the moms ask you about winter break yet?”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them it was up to my partner. I go where she goes.”
She punches me lightly on the arm. “Chicken.”
“No way am I wrangling those two on my own.”
“You could always call Alex.”
I snort. “Yeah. Just the guy I want to go into battle with.” Even though he’s the best wingman ever, I’ll never admit it.
I stop and pull her into my arms. We kiss for a long time, until we need to break for air.
Then we walk again, kicking at the loose gravel on the trail.
“When are you trading in your Jetta? Are you still getting a new Jeep, or did you decide on a Ferrari?” She laughs as she squeezes my hand.
“I’m keeping the Jetta.”
She glances up at me, surprised. “Why?”
I hope I can keep my face from betraying my secret, since it’s one I’d like to keep, even though we promised no more. I shrug. “Just found other ways to spend my money.”
She swings our hands back and forth between us, then stops suddenly. “Is there, by any chance, a connection between you not buying a new car and the new basketball hoop at the shelter? And the new swing set?”
I don’t miss a beat. “No idea what you’re talking about, BB.”
She’s quiet for a few more steps, but I’m not surprised when she stops again, pivoting on the gravel to pin with me a suspicious glare. “That’s too bad. Because I’d like to thank whoever it was. In person.” She pulls me close, tugging on my belt loops, her glare morphing into a smile.
I grin down at her, drowning in those eyes that hook me every time. “Do you know what I thought of you when this whole gig started?”
“That I was a control freak who didn’t know how to have fun? Who was totally immune to your charms?”
“You’re not immune. Not even close.”
She leans into me. “Neither are you.”
I laugh into her hair. “Who knew I had a thing for pixies and cherry lips?”
She leans back and looks up at me, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. “And what about what I thought of you?”
I pretend to consider her question. “Let’s see. Slacker. Dumber than dirt.”
“Don’t forget player.”
I frown. “You might want to stop.”
“Two out of three are actual possibilities.” She giggles. “And let’s not forget your horrible fashion sense.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
She shrugs. “Alex pointed it out. More than once. He wants me to take you shopping. He says you two aren’t ‘mall compatible,’ whatever that means.”
I lean my forehead against hers, laughing softly. “Not gonna happen. What you see is what you get.”
“Okay, but I do have one wardrobe enhancement for you.” Her fingers tangle in my hair and I lean in close to kiss her. “Stop it.” She laughs against my lips, and I feel something brush against my neck.
“What’s this?” Her hands work in my hair. She tugs out my shoelace, wrinkling her nose in disgust. I reach up to feel a leather cord where the shoelace used to be. Something small and metallic dangles from the cord.
“What is that?” Whatever it is, I don’t plan to take it out. Ever.
“It’s a charm. An S.”
I grin down at her. “For Slade? Or for sexy?”
She bats her eyelashes, smirking. “Or maybe it’s for slacker.”
I pull her in so close I can feel her heart beating. “I think we both know who the real slacker is around here.”
She throws back her head and laughs. Her laughter drives me even crazier than her lips, so I kiss her, over and over again.
Alex bet me fifty bucks that Trina and I will still be together at Christmas.
I doubled down, betting him a hundred bucks we’ll make it to Valentine’s Day.
And I play to win.
The End
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Acknowledgments
To my stalwart critique group, thank you for the laughs, for loving this story, and for helping me prep it for prime time.
To the wonderful Entangled team, thank you for inviting me to be part of the Teen Crush imprint.
To my agent Nicole Resciniti (aka Saint Nic), thank you for your consistent encouragement and enthusiasm.
To my editor Liz Pelletier, thank you for asking the questions that take my stories to the next level. To Kelly Elliott, for applying a fantastic eagle eye to this story.
And finally, to all of my friends and family members, buckets and buckets of gratitude for your unwavering support. Special thanks to my son and husband for dragging me out of the writing cave for pizza and Netflix marathons. I love you!
About the Author
Lisa Brown Roberts has held a variety of day jobs to support her writing habit, many of them involving writing, but not the fun kind. She currently works in higher education during the day and writes feverishly at 3:00 in the morning, on weekends, and any other time she can convince her family to go play outside and leave her alone. Except for the cats. They can stay, because every writer needs a cat (or two) on her lap. You can find Lisa on Twitter @LBrownRoberts or visit her at her website www.lisabrownroberts.com
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