I weighed 135, but I wasn’t going to correct him.
“Huh?” Mac said, looking bewildered. “No. I’m okay, Beau.”
Shaking his head with a chuckle at his dimwitted friend, Beau held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Beau Sanders. I’ve never seen you around. You go to Madison?”
I accepted his hand and shook it, thinking how few times a guy my age ever introduced himself to me with a handshake. “Yes.”
The tide of the crowd shifted in the room, and I was pushed forward, directly against him. He still held my hand, his fingers stroking lightly where we touched. I huffed to find myself pressed against him.
He bent his head to ask into my ear, “What’s your name, pretty girl?”
Pretty girl? Did that really work?
“Willa,” I replied, feeling a warm flush spread through me. And I guess that was my answer. I was rarely on the receiving end of flirtation, but now I knew.
Yes. Yes, it worked.
“Want to go someplace less crowded, Willa?”
My heart hammered. I glanced up at Zach. He was still watching, both hands clutched on the railing now, his gaze intent on me.
“You know Tucker?”
I looked back at Beau to see he had followed my gaze. “Uh, yeah. We’re friends.”
“He’s not looking at you like a friend right now.”
And for some reason that gave my stupid heart a stupid thrill. “We’re just friends,” I insisted.
“Good. Then c’mon, Willa.” He was still holding my hand. His warm grip on it tightened and he led me from the room, passing through the crowd with much more success than I’d experienced on my own.
GIRL CODE #18:
Let your friends be who they are.
Flor
I was on the second floor laughing as Jenna persuaded one of the football players to take off his shirt so she could write on his chest with whipped cream. Don’t ask me where she got the whipped cream.
“I’ll get sticky,” he whined.
“Baby boy.” She clucked her tongue and batted her lashes. “It’ll be okay, and if I like what I see, I might lick it off for you.” She waved her can of whipped cream in the air with a flourish. We all laughed again.
He looked at Jenna hopefully, obviously giving clear consideration to her offer. “For real?”
“Hey, Flor.”
I looked up and blinked at the unexpected sight of Zach. Zach, who was ignoring me like a pro these days. He pushed into our circle, his expression tight and agitated. “You seen Willa?” He shifted impatiently on his feet.
My girls around me went still. I stared at him for a long moment before answering. I couldn’t help it. I was processing that he was really here, in front of me, speaking to me.
He hadn’t talked to me in days. Hadn’t responded to my texts. We’d been together for months, but he’d been treating me like I was invisible. Now he stood here, dragging a hand through his hair and asking me if I’d seen Willa. Like it was no big deal. Like it was nothing.
I held out a hand. “Let me see your phone.”
“What?”
I held out a hand. “Your phone, please.”
He hesitated a second and then reached inside his pocket, pulling out his phone. He handed it to me. I typed in his code. He hadn’t bothered to change it since we dated.
“What are you doing?” he asked, impatience tingeing his voice.
“Just checking to see if it still works. You know, since you haven’t replied to any of my texts.”
People around us tittered and laughed.
“Oooh,” someone said. “Burnnn.”
Zach snatched his phone back. “Not now, Flor. I’m looking for Willa. Have you seen her? It’s important.”
“We haven’t seen her in a while,” Farah answered. “But you know Willa. She’ll be fine. She probably found one of her orchestra friends and is in a corner somewhere talking about their upcoming recital.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he grumbled, and left.
I wasn’t done with him, though.
I pushed through the bodies, following him down the stairs. He was moving at a fast clip. I didn’t catch up with him until I emerged outside onto the attached deck. The covered deck was aglow in an eerie yellow light.
There were fewer people around, and I could finally stretch my legs to catch up with him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face me. “Hey,” I bit out. “What the hell?”
“Not now, Flor. Please.” He still wore that agitated expression.
“Not now? When, then? When are you going to talk to me again and treat me like I exist?” I took a deep breath. “Tell me why we broke up. The real reason.”
I hated asking. It humbled me to do it. He’d given me the standard breakup speech. I just want to be friends. It’s not working out. Blah blah blah.
None of it meant anything.
“I told you—”
“You told me nothing.” I swiped a hand through the air. “I want the truth, as hard as that might be.”
He looked out off the deck toward the lake. I followed his gaze. A lone speedboat zipped across the surface, its lights cutting through the liquid dark. “I never wanted to hurt you, Flor. I still don’t.”
I moistened my lips. “It’s that night, isn’t it?”
His gaze swung back to me, sharp and cutting, and I knew I was right.
I continued, “I mean . . . you broke up with me the very next day. What else could it be?”
“It’s not only that night, but yeah . . .” He shrugged and released a gust of heavy breath. “It wasn’t fun anymore, Flor. You’re always angry or sad, and it’s not like you ever talked about any of it to me. Whenever I asked, you put me off. Either changing the subject or flinging yourself at me.”
His words stung, but he wasn’t wrong. I listened, suffering through it. I’d asked, after all. No, I’d demanded.
He continued, finally giving me the answers I wanted. “That night, you got shitfaced. Even when I tried to get you to stop drinking, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t talk or tell me what was wrong, and then in your room . . .” He released a choking laugh, but I knew he wasn’t amused.
I shook my head, heat slapping my cheeks. I wasn’t amused either.
That night was fuzzy, but I distinctly remembered wrestling out of my clothes even when he told me—no, begged me—to keep them on. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that I attacked him, kissing him even when his lips weren’t kissing me back, and I may have tried to wrestle him out of his clothes too. He actually had to peel me off him.
Yeah. It had been a bad night even before Zach came over. I’d been angry and hurt and acted badly. Rashly. Stupidly. I thought I could find something with Zach to make it all better. Never mind that I was drunk and had never had sex before and I came at him with all the finesse of a water buffalo. I was aggressive and clumsy and, yes. Drunk.
But none of that was a valid excuse. It didn’t matter the circumstances. It didn’t matter that I was a girl. It was wrong. I was wrong. No one should ever do that to another person.
And the next day he broke up with me.
It was mortifying.
“I apologized,” I said in a shaky little voice. If I could go back and undo that day, I would. I’d just been so stupidly hurt.
Dad had taken off for a long weekend to Vegas with Dana, forgetting that I had a big tournament that Saturday. Dad used to make all my games. Soccer was our thing. Something we had always loved together.
I’d found out he was going to Vegas via a text he sent me from the airport. Not that I explained any of that to Zach. No, I just raided Dad’s bar and made myself a pitcher of margaritas. I was halfway through when Zach showed up. I even kept drinking after he got there. Even though he asked me to stop.
“It’s not about me forgiving you, Flor. I do.”
I stared at him. “You just don’t want to be with me.”
He nodded once.
“Okay.” I nodded bac
k, and in that moment I knew it didn’t matter. Being with him, keeping him, didn’t matter anymore.
He stared at me for one lingering moment and then he turned. His footsteps thudded across the wood deck until he stepped off and headed down the stretch of lawn toward the lake, passing shadowy figures making out in the darkness.
I watched him go. I watched him until he was lost to the night. Lost to me.
I hadn’t really lost him, though. I would have had to have had him in the first place to do that, and I realized now that I had never had any real hold on Zach Tucker. Because I’d never let him in. I’d never been comfortable enough, for whatever reason, to do that.
I released a breath and suddenly felt a little lighter.
Ever since Zach broke up with me, I’d looked at winning him back as a solution to my screwed-up life.
Now I was starting to suspect . . . there was no solution. Or at least it didn’t rest with Zach.
Maybe it was in me.
GIRL CODE #19:
If you’ve never actually spoken to a guy before, you can’t call dibs on him.
Willa
I’D never had a guy single me out at a party before. I wasn’t that girl. I’d never aspired to be.
Although my self-esteem wasn’t so low that I imagined myself unattractive. I had good hair. Nice eyes. I liked my nose.
But I wasn’t flashy enough to stand out at a party. Especially not big parties with the all-popular beautiful people from half the high schools in the district.
That was the reality of it. Even with my improved wardrobe, there were a lot of girls here tonight showing more skin than I was. In a sea of bare midriffs, mine was hidden under clothes. These other girls were throwing inviting looks at Beau Sanders regardless of his attention on me. Looks that promised him access to said skin if he would just give them the time of day.
Strange as it was, he was giving me the time of day.
Where was Jenna when I needed her? I knew she would be equal parts envious and proud of me.
As we exited the house and walked outside into the dark, I continually snuck looks at him just to see if he was there and real and truly beside me.
“Whew,” he exclaimed, stepping off the porch and inhaling. “Nice to get some fresh air. Kind of tight in there.”
We started down the lawn toward the lake. He was an easy conversationalist, asking about me. I felt myself relax. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He wasn’t just a hot jock. Apparently Zach wasn’t the only one in existence. That was good. I needed to expand my experience.
My foot caught on a sprinkler head and I went flying. His strong hand was there, catching me and hauling me back against him with an easy chuckle. “You okay?”
I laughed nervously, feeling like a clumsy fool. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I stepped back from him, but he snared my hand and kept hold of it.
My gaze lifted to his face. He glanced at me with a disarming smile.
My skin flushed warm as we walked toward the dock. There were random kids outside. Some making out in the dark, their shadowy figures tucked away under the cover of trees. I noted a trio near the fence, passing what I doubted was a cigarette among them.
“Those are some reflexes. I guess you’d be a handy guy to have around during the zombie apocalypse.”
“The zombie apocalypse? Is that an eventuality?”
I nodded. “More like a probability.”
“Huh.” He nodded contemplatively. “Do you often evaluate people based on their potential survivability in the zombie apocalypse?”
“Absolutely. You rank high.”
“And what about you?”
I winced. “Yeah. Not so much, which is why I hope to surround myself with those with higher survivability.”
“Thereby upping your own survivability. Maybe that’s your skill. Pretty clever, actually.”
“Huh.” I angled my head, mulling that over. “Never thought of it that way.”
We stepped out onto the stretch of dock. Our footsteps rang hollowly over the wood planks. I was out of my element. Stick Flor or Jenna or any of my friends in this scenario and they would know how to handle themselves.
I told myself not to freak out. He was just holding my hand. Probably so I wouldn’t stumble again in the dark. It wasn’t like he was trying to jam his tongue down my throat.
Relax, Willa. Don’t act like such an amateur. Act like a girl who knows what to do when a boy pays attention to you.
Right now Zach was inside letting Ashlyn rub all over him. I was free to hold hands with a hot guy.
At the far end of the dock a few tiki lights glowed. “You’re a senior?” I asked.
“Yeah. You?”
I nodded, gazing out at the water.
“So a year from now where will you be?”
“I’ll be at whatever school gives me the most scholarship money.”
“Ah. A smart girl.”
I shrugged. “What about you?”
“The same.”
“Academic?”
He laughed. “Okay, not the same. I’m not that smart. Football.”
A turtle’s head bobbed above the surface of the lake. I leaned a hip against the railing, peering out at it.
He followed my gaze. “I came fishing out on this lake as a kid. We always hooked turtles and would have to throw them back.”
He brushed the hair off my shoulder. The backs of his fingers skimmed my skin and sent a jolt of surprise through me. I took a steadying breath. Don’t be weird. He just touched you, and it wasn’t in a creepy or aggressive way. It was called flirting.
“Were you at the game tonight?” he asked.
I laughed nervously. “No. I don’t go to the games.”
“No?”
“Yeah. I have a friend that plays. I hate to watch . . . I’m always worried he’ll get hurt.”
“You don’t go to school football games? What kind of Texas girl are you?” He tsked his tongue and shook his head at me.
“Not a very good one, I guess.”
“You didn’t see me play tonight. Or ever, apparently. How am I supposed to impress you?”
“Is football the only thing you have going for you?” My tone was halfway flirty. I also somehow managed not to choke on the question as I looked at him—because he clearly had other things going for him. That face, for starters. Followed by that deep Hemsworth voice. Good looks and a fair amount of charm. Half the universe would make a deal with the devil for those two things alone.
“I’ve been told I have a winning personality.”
I bet. I waved toward the house. “I’m sure there are dozens of girls back in the house ready to be impressed by you. You can recount your most glorious moments on the field for them.”
He flipped around so that his back was to the water and his elbows were propped on the railing. He dug a hand deeper in his front jeans pocket, and that motion stretched his shirt tighter across his broad chest.
Good God. When had all the boys my age suddenly sprouted bodies like this? It seemed like only yesterday I could arm-wrestle most guys my age and win. I didn’t feel like I’d changed. I was still the same as I was freshman year, minus the braces.
“But I’m kind of trying to impress you right now,” he countered. “Is it working?”
I smiled and opened my mouth to respond, but his head suddenly ducked.
He kissed me.
I knew we were flirting, but it was still unexpected. A week ago I had been kissing Zach. I would never have believed another boy would kiss me the following weekend. Or that I would let him.
I just couldn’t seem to move.
It wasn’t a long or deep kiss. Just a quick press of his mouth to mine. He pulled back, his dark eyes searching my face.
This would be the moment when I pulled away. Or I asked him not to do that again. I still loved Zach. That hadn’t changed. The concept was really simple: when you loved someone, you didn’t go a
round kissing guys that weren’t him.
Except I’d told him to forget about me, and I was trying to forget about him. Kissing Beau Sanders would definitely be me moving on, and that would be a good thing.
His head lowered again, coming at me, taking his time. I could stop him if I wanted. I felt sure of that. I could.
His lips brushed mine in a series of soft, seductive kisses. He was good at this. There was skill and practice behind his method, but it felt oddly passionless.
Zach had had lots of practice too, but it hadn’t felt practiced with him. With Zach it had felt raw. There’d been no deliberation. Only longing and desire. Need.
Damn. Why was I thinking about Zach right now?
Because there was nothing aching or desperate about this kiss with Beau. About me. Maybe that was the key component—me.
I couldn’t feel the passion. I couldn’t revel in it . . . because this wasn’t Zach. Damn it. Why couldn’t it be easy? I’d decided to move on. Why couldn’t my heart do that? Be a tame, obedient little puppy inside my chest?
“Willa.”
Great. And now I was hearing his voice as I kissed another boy.
“Willa.”
Okay, that time sounded real.
I pushed against Beau’s chest and looked around. Zach stood five feet away, his expression hard. Lips unsmiling.
“Come on, Willa.”
Guilt flashed through me, which was a totally inappropriate reaction. I had no reason to feel guilty.
“Zach?” What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he still with Ashlyn getting pawed? “What are you—”
“It’s almost eleven and it’s gonna take over half an hour to get home. You’re gonna break curfew.”
“Oh.” He was right. I looked at Beau. “I need to go.”
Beau dragged his gaze off Zach. “I can give you a ride home,” he offered.
I opened my mouth to decline, but Zach butted in. “No thanks, man. I got this.”
I glared at him. He was speaking for me now? Like he was my father? Excuse me, no. The last time I checked this was the twenty-first century and I could speak for myself. “Farah drove me. She’ll take me home.”
The Me I Meant to Be Page 14
