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Autumn Unlocked (Summer Unplugged)

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by Amy Sparling




  THE SUMMER UNPLUGGED SERIES

  BOOK 2

  AUTUMN UNLOCKED

  AMY SPARLING

  Copyright © 2013 by Amy Sparling

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover image from shutterstock.com

  First Edition October 1, 2013

  For Kristina

  CHAPTER 1

  Jace's sandy brown hair flows through my fingers as I grip the back of his head. He hasn't had a haircut in a few weeks, so he's all scraggly which is perfect for me to latch onto as he whips his tongue across my lips. I pull him closer to me as he presses his lips to mine, kissing me with all the fury you'd expect from someone who is about to leave for a whole freaking week.

  His hands grab my hips, his fingers spreading wide across my back as he pulls me closer to him. His feet shuffle, and mine go backwards until my back presses against my closed bedroom door. If I had it my way, the door would stay closed forever and he'd never leave. I kiss him and breathe in the scent of his body wash, trying to hold on to every bit of him, forming his essence into a memory for me to think about when he's gone.

  We stay like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, making out like the teenagers we are, until my neck hurts from looking up at him, and the smell of Mom's burned dinner seeps under the door, startling both of us.

  "What is that smell?" Jace asks, pretending to choke on the stench. He leans in and kisses me softly on the neck before I have a chance to answer. When he pulls back, my knees are too wobbly from his kiss to bother saying anything. My brain simply doesn't function in a state like this.

  The ear-splitting sound of the smoke detector blasts through the house, and I yank open my door and head to the kitchen with Jace following. Mom stands next to the stove, two blackened oven mitts on her hands and a dejected look on her face. A stream of black smoke flows from the open oven door, covering the entire room in an awful-smelling fog.

  "Well kids," Mom says, even though Jace is almost nineteen and totally not a kid. "Looks like we're ordering takeout for dinner."

  Later, Jace sits on the floor of the living room with his back pressed against the couch with me sitting between his legs, my back against his chest. Two empty pizza boxes sit on the coffee table. My little brother Bentley sleeps in Mom's lap while we finish watching the made-for-TV family movie he had insisted we watch. The movie is ridiculously awful, but I don't mind it because I spend my time twisting my fingers around Jace's and sneaking glances of him over my shoulder.

  Nothing is boring when Jace is with me.

  "Thank you for dinner, Ms. Maize," Jace says, glancing over at Mom.

  "You're welcome, dear," she says, grabbing the remote control. A grin bursts across my face. Mom never called Ian dear. She flips through the channel guide, looking for something not as annoying to watch. "Sorry I ruined the real dinner. Maybe next time I'll be able to serve you two a home-cooked meal."

  "Or I could take ya'll out to the Taste of Texas," Jace says, popping up from the couch. Mom and I both roll our eyes because the Taste of Texas is an incredibly expensive steak house that Jace recently visited with his new boss and hasn't stopped talking about since.

  Jace helps Mom contort my brother's sleeping body into a manageable shape, by placing him over Mom's shoulder so she can carry him to bed. Mom walks to the hallway and then glances back at us. "Thirty minutes," she whispers over Bentley's shoulder, extending my time with Jace by twenty extra minutes. She's in a really great mood today. To Jace, she says, "See you next weekend, dear."

  Mom disappears into Bentley's room and then her own room. When the coast is clear of all sibling and parental units, I slide my hands up Jace's chest, hooking my fingers together behind his neck. "That's the second time she's called you dear today," I muse, closing my eyes when he kisses the top of my forehead. "She really likes you."

  "That's because I'm not a dropout druggie douchebag," he murmurs with his lips still pressed to my forehead. Alliterations aside, he's right. Jace is a high school diploma-holding non-drug user, full time employee and owner of a paid-off house, thanks to his late grandfather leaving it to him in his will. Even if Jace wasn't so freaking nice and charming, my mom would probably love him.

  "We have twenty-nine minutes," he says, glancing at the clock on the wall. A devilish grin slides across his lips and he winks at me. "How about we make the most of it?"

  I sprint to my room with Jace on my heels. The moment we get inside, he closes the door behind us and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. Jace leans forward and we fall to my bed with him on top of me. He adjusts himself on the bed, holding himself up on his elbows as he hovers over me. I open my mouth to speak and he silences me with a kiss.

  I try again, and he kisses me again. With a sarcastic roll of my eyes, I push his face off mine. "I'm trying to talk to you, mister."

  "I know, but I just want to enjoy being with you. If we talk, we'll bring up how I'm about to leave and not see you for five whole days."

  I sigh, because he's right. His head softly pushes mine to the left so he can kiss me, trailing soft kisses from my lips to my cheeks to my neck. Chills run down my arms at the feel of his touch. A dull ache throbs in my chest at the knowledge that he'll be leaving soon, driving back to Mixon, Texas where his new apartment waits for him with an empty bed and no girlfriend. And I'll be stuck here, in my bed that smells of him, waiting to start the first day of school for my senior year tomorrow.

  After a summer this wonderful, I can't possibly go back to school.

  "I should drop out," I say, running my hands through his hair. "I could get my GED or something, and go stay with you."

  Jace cocks an eyebrow. "Um, no."

  "Why the hell not?" I ask, acting more offended than I really am. Although I'm pretty damn offended, so I'm not acting much.

  He takes a deep breath and puts on his Serious Face. It's the face he wears when I'm trying to talk him into something stupid and he's trying to talk me out of it. "Because," he says, running his calloused hand over my cheek. "You need to finish school. I can't be the cause of you dropping out."

  I stick out my bottom lip in a pout. "But staying in school means another ten months of being away from you."

  "I live forty-five minutes up the road, Bay. This is hardly a long distance relationship."

  I keep my lip puckered out and look off to the side, avoiding his gaze. It's easy for him to act as if this is no big deal; he has a job and a life without me that doesn't involve sitting in a stupid desk all day, surrounded by idiots.

  "Sweetheart." Jace watches me until I turn to face him. He strokes his hand through my hair. "Why do you act like our relationship will be over when you go back to school? We spent all summer living next door to each other and it was awesome having you in my arms every night, but that doesn't mean this will all disappear. I'm still yours and you're still mine. We will make it through this school year."

  I sigh, not knowing what to say because all of his words are perfect and all of mine are crap. He looks into my eyes, glancing back and forth between them, waiting for me to respond. I draw in a nervous breath. "You promise?"

  He leans in and places a soft kiss on the top of my nose. "I promise."

  With thirty seconds left until my Mom-appointed bedtime, I linger in the doorway, one foot on the threshold and the other resting on top of Jace's shoe. He stands on the porch, facing me with his arms outstretched on either side of the doorframe.

  "What's that look for?" I ask, poking him in the chest. "I'm freaking out
because I'm going to miss you so much and you're standing here smirking like some kind of…" I trail off, unable to find the right word.

  His smirk gets even smirkier as his head tilts to the side. "Like some kind of what?"

  My words come out all flustered. "Like some kind of…guy…who…smirks."

  Jace bursts into laughter and quickly covers his hand over his mouth so as not to wake up my mom. "That's the best you've got, eh Maize?"

  I stick my tongue out at him and he grabs the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss. "This look is because I have something to tell you," he says with oodles of mystery dripping off his words. I swallow. The smile on his face should be a good sign, but knowing that he has something to tell me just makes me want to freak out and throw up. What if it's something bad?

  "Wh-what is it?" I ask in a whisper.

  He draws closer to me, slipping his arm around my waist. "I love you, Bayleigh," he says in the first time I've ever heard his voice say those words in that order. My heart pounds inside my ribcage as he continues, "I do. I've known it for a long time but it took me a while to get brave enough to tell you."

  CHAPTER 2

  The first day of my senior year is exactly as miserable as I thought it would be.

  My best friend Becca has four classes with me, which would normally be the cause of celebration, but today it is anything but. She spends every waking moment gushing about her new boyfriend Braden, and how freaking sweet he is and how adorable he looks when he eats Pop Tarts every morning and how he holds her hand in the hallways and his palms are kind of sweaty but that's okay with her because she just likes being close to him.

  I should be happy for her—I mean, I am happy for her—I would just prefer if she didn't remind me every five seconds that her boyfriend is across the hall in math class and mine is forty-five minutes away.

  Not to be braggy or anything, but her boyfriend hasn't said the L-word yet and mine has. I haven't told her this because she would freak out. Plus, this new level in my relationship with Jace is special—I don't want to share it with anyone else yet.

  Somehow, I manage to make it through my first day of senior year without dropping dead from love-struck longing for Jace. I send him a text when I get home, telling him exactly that but I know he won't get it for another hour or so. He's been booked solid with giving motocross lessons at the dirt bike track.

  Even though my mother cooled down a lot after my summer punishment of being forced to stay with my grandparents in the middle of nowhere out in the country, she still hasn't given my computer back. Apparently catching your daughter red-handed taking a photo of herself shirtless to send to an ex-boyfriend is all it takes for a parental freak-out. I can't say I blame her, but it's not like I didn't learn a lesson.

  I definitely did.

  Jace never asks me to send him dirty photos. I smile as I toss my backpack on my bed, thinking that I should add that to the long and ever-growing list of reasons I love Jace. He respects me and he doesn't need a digital image of my boobs to prove it.

  I don't have much homework, so I rush through it and then practically run down the hallway to find my mother in the living room, hard at work trying to untangle a knot in my brother's shoelaces.

  "Hey… Mom…" I say with an overly sincere happiness in my voice and a goofy smile on my face that shows all my teeth.

  "What do you want?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  I clasp my hands behind my back in an overly dramatized way of being polite. "Could I pretty please use the computer?"

  Mom rolls her eyes and nods toward the bookshelf where my confiscated laptop now resides. "Go for it."

  I know it's silly and kind of childish, and I know that in a year I will be eighteen and an adult, but—it is nice when Mom and I get along. All I have to do is be sweet to her, show her respect and not be the bitch I used to be. I'm not saying that's easy, but…it's really not that hard. I thank her and head to my computer, my desperation to check Facebook almost overwhelming me.

  "You know what?" Mom says as I lift the screen and sit down on a wobbly barstool in the kitchen.

  "What?" I ask.

  Mom crosses her arms and watches me with a weird look on her face that I can't exactly make out. "That summer at your grandparents really helped you. I've seen a change in you ever since you got back."

  I smile. "Um, thanks, I guess."

  Mom throws her arms in the air as if surrendering to herself. "I guess you're not grounded anymore. You can have your laptop back."

  My eyes almost bulge out of my skull and it's all I can do not to shriek with joy as I yank the laptop power cord out of the wall, scoop up my precious computer in my arms and run to my room with it, yelling a heartfelt thanks behind me.

  Like I said, it isn't that hard being nice to her and it's finally paying off.

  My boyfriend's beautiful face smiles at me from my Facebook profile picture. I sit on my bed with my computer and try not to obsessively miss the boy, but damn if my heart doesn't hurt like hell after only seeing his picture for a split second. I scroll down my news feed, looking for anything worthwhile but not finding much. When I got back from my grandparents' house at the end of summer, I deleted Ian and every single person on my friends list who were full of drama. I just didn't need that shit anymore. Now my page is full of fun people and sweet friends and even some family members that I don't have to hide from, now that I have nothing to hide.

  No drama equals a much happier life.

  Jace isn't big on social media, so he hasn’t posted anything in a while. That doesn't stop me from clicking on his profile to smile stupidly as I stare at his default picture—an image of us sharing the massive armchair at his house in Salt Gap, Texas. He's wearing my sunglasses and I'm wearing his. That was a really fun day. I love that I have a boyfriend who doesn't hide that he's dating me. I love seeing his friends list of over a thousand people and knowing that every single one of them knows that I am his girlfriend. I've never felt so special in my life.

  That warm fuzzy feeling disappears the moment I read the new bit of information on his profile: JACE ADAMS IS NOW FRIENDS WITH HANA FISHER.

  Who the hell is Hana Fisher?

  Ugh, I hate that my first reaction is to freak out. Jace is allowed to have girls who are friends. That doesn’t mean anything. I take a deep breath and try to remember all those mushy feelings I felt last time we talked, and click on her page.

  Hana Fisher is a beautiful girl with long brown hair and a tan that looks like it was earned and not paid for from a spray booth. She lives in Mixon, Texas and works at the motocross track. And she's dating someone named Ash Carter.

  Relief floods into me as her page confirms what I already knew: I have nothing to worry about. Jace isn't a cheater and he's not an asshole and I shouldn't immediately freak out over stuff like this.

  My phone rings, startling me out of my Facebook-induced coma. I look over at it and smile when I see Jace's name on the screen. For the millionth time in the last month I have to remind myself yet again: Just because the last boy treated me like shit, doesn’t mean the next one will.

  CHAPTER 3

  My phone vibrates at ten in the morning the next day. I'm sitting in U.S. History while Mr. Harrison gives a lecture and this is the worst possible class for someone to decide to text me. Despite the fact that everyone on campus has a cell phone and uses them all day long on the sly, the school district still refuses to allow them on campus. The general rule is that all phones have to be turned off and in your backpack, not in your pocket or purse. Of course, no one listens to that rule and most teachers don't enforce it. My phone sits silently in my pocket, begging me to check it.

  Because I have terrible luck, Mr. Harrison hates cell phones and will suspend any student caught with one. And if my luck wasn't terrible enough already, today he gives his lecture while walking in between the isles of desks, so despite even my most sneaky efforts to check my phone without him noticing, I know there's no way I'll suc
ceed.

  Some kind of cell phone god must really like me, because five minutes before the bell rings, Mr. Harrison excuses himself to speak with another teacher just outside his classroom door. I pull out my phone and check the text, laughing when I notice several other students do the same thing with their phones.

  My heart flutters just like it did on the first day I met him.

  Jace: I have an hour until my next lesson. How's your day?

  Me: A whole lot better now that you texted me.

  Jace: I have a feeling it'll get better as the day goes on…

  Me: Um…why do you say that?  

  The door swings open and I almost jump out of my chair as the noise brings me back to reality and out of my Jace fantasies. My heart races as I try to shove my phone back into my pocket before Mr. Harrison sees me. I can't believe I let myself get so wrapped up in texting him that I forgot to look out for the door.

  "Nice one," Shelly whispers under her breath from the seat next to me. She had also had her phone out, but must have been smart enough to get rid of it in time. Luckily, the teacher doesn't see me, so as long as I wipe this guilty look off my face, I should be fine.

  The next few minutes of class go by in a blur as I wait to feel the vibration telling me that Jace replied to my question. I can't stop thinking about what he meant when he said my day will get better. The only way it could possibly get better is if Jace himself shows up after class and whisks me away on a romantic vacation—oh who am I kidding? I'd be happy if he took me anywhere but here.

  Even though I know it's not going to happen, I can't help but feel a tiny bit sad when I walk out of Mr. Harrison's classroom and don't see Jace in the hallway, waiting to surprise me. It's not like he'd even be allowed in the school since he's not a student or the parent of a student. But I can almost picture how cute he'd look standing against the white walls of the history hallway next to the Autumn Ball poster, hands in his pockets and that silly smirk on his face.

 

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