The Rebound (Girls of Summer Book 2)

by Lynn Stevens

  THE

  REBOUND

  Lynn Stevens

  The Rebound Copyright © 2019 Lynn Stevens

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright 2019 by Lynn Stevens

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Lynn Stevens

  www.lstevensbooks.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  For Bean and Dave

  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

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  For Bean and Dave

  CHAPTER ONE

  I twisted my ankle, checking out each angle of the wretched shoe on my foot. “This is not a good idea.”

  “Will you just trust me for once? Adam’s a great guy.” Vicky sighed loud enough to be heard across town.

  “I’m not talking about the date, although that’s not a good idea either.” I mimicked her sigh and pointed to the cheap piece of plastic on my feet. “I’m talking about these flip-flops. They’re horrid.”

  “That’s what you’re bitching about? Seriously, Rachel, you can’t go to a carnival in Louboutins.” She pushed off the side of her car as Daniel rounded the front. He snaked his arm around her waist, careful not to touch her broken ribs.

  “But you can on a blind date?” I countered.

  Vicky tossed her hands in the air. She knew there was no winning this argument. Besides, the Louboutins didn’t go with this equally horrid dress Vicky loaned me.

  I followed the happy couple a bumper car’s length away, just enough to not lose them and not hear their lovey dovey bullshit. Daniel and Vicky walked so close together the color of their shirts started to blend. A hint of copper slid along my tongue, and I realized I’d bitten my lip. Jealousy was not something I did, but seeing those two into one another, it was hard not to let the green monster take over. I rolled my jaw to loosen the tension.

  The sounds of the carnival drifted through the humid air. The rise and fall of happy screams, the eighties music blaring from the rides, and the whirling machinery crammed into my ears.

  We stepped into the sunlight, and I saw my “date” standing at a game booth. The first time I’d met Adam Marshall was at Vicky’s house in Hillsdale. Her mother invited a group of us over for a pool party, and Vicky strolled in with Daniel on her arm and Adam trailing behind her with a somewhat pretty blonde. I took in every inch of Adam as he navigated around the edge of the pool, ignoring the glare from the girlfriend. Like I cared. Adam’s hot in an unconventional way. Tall and lanky with a thin face, he made it work when most guys would’ve just appeared awkward.

  This time, I stayed a few steps back as Vicky and Daniel approached him, waiting for his reaction. He high-fived Daniel before glancing over Vicky’s shoulder toward me. The hunger of his gaze brought a heat to my cheeks. This was what I knew. Guys wanted me, they just didn’t want to know me. Forcing a grin on my face, I sauntered up to Adam, sliding in beside him.

  “Hey,” I said with a breath. I dropped my head, slowly raising it as I checked out every inch of him again. It’d been a few weeks, but he needed this from me as much as I needed him to do the same. “Long time, no see.”

  “Nice dress.” He pointed at the floral monstrosity Vicky loaned me.

  This blush covering my cheeks was from embarrassment. I felt like a redneck in this green thing, plus it was too tight around the waist. If I hadn’t tripped in these stupid flip flops and spilled diet cola over my white tank and shorts, I wouldn’t have borrowed it.

  “We’re going to get some food,” Daniel said as he squeezed Vicky against his side. I threw up a little in my mouth. “Wanna come?”

  I raised my eyebrows at Vicky, but she didn’t notice. She wasn’t even looking at me. Gag. “No, thanks. Go ahead. We’ll catch up later.”

  Dacky, or maybe Viniel, disappeared into the crowd. They might as well have a stupid nickname since they’d become one person. The thought made me giggle. I glanced back at Adam, but he was focused on something over my shoulder. I frowned when I realized what, or rather who, held his attention. Adam’s girlfriend from the pool party threw a dart at a wall filled with balloons. She missed. When she turned around, she caught us watching her.

  Instincts kicked in. I faced Adam and slid my hand behind his neck. He broke his gaze at the other girl and let me bring his head to mine. The kiss was supposed to be brief and just a show of who was with whom, but it turned into something unexpected. My toes curled in the cheap flip-flops, digging my French pedicure into the rubber bottoms. Adam’s fingers dug into my waist, pulling me to him until we were pressed as close as we could get with clothes on.

  I drew away first, mainly because we were in the middle of a carnival, but also because this was not supposed to make me want to take him to the nearest hotel. No, this date with Adam was supposed to be two peeps hanging out, not a heavy make-out session within three minutes of saying “hi.”

  He pressed his forehead into mine. “What did I do to deserve that?”

  The laugh bubbled out even as I tried to swallow it.

  “I didn’t think it was funny,” Adam said, leaning away from me. His hands stayed firmly on my waist.

  I pursed my lips together when I noticed his serious expression. “Your ex is over there.”

  He let go of me and put a bit of distance between us. The frown covering his face caused tiny wrinkles around the edges of his perfect mouth.

  Great. I felt slightly bad for being honest. He needed to hear some more. “Let’s get it out in the open, Adam. You may be into me, but you’re still not over her. And there’s the fact that you don’t even know me.” He opened his mouth to interrupt. I held up my hand to stop him. “Don’t. It’s okay. I get it, alright? You need a rebound. You picked me. It’s not the first time that’s happened, you know.”

  “A rebound?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the side of the booth.

  “Yep. That’s me. Everybody’s rebound.” I spit the words through the bitter taste they left on my tongue. “I’ll hang with you for a couple of weeks, just long enough for the ex to know you’re over it. Maybe we’ll have a little fun along the way. But, eventually, we’ll go our separate ways. That’s how it works.” I crossed my arms, squeezing my chest to force the rest out. “I’ve played the game enough, okay?”

  His head fell back as his eyes kissed the sky. I waited for him to tell me I was wrong, even though I wasn’t. The popping of balloons followed by a girly squeal caught my attention. A petite girl threw her arms around her boyfriend, laughing as he lifted her off the ground. The booth attendant held out an oversized stuffed dog with a rose
in its mouth. The boyfriend grabbed the dog and passed it on without taking his eyes off his girl. She clutched the stupid thing to her chest as they walked away holding hands. She wasn’t beautiful; she wasn’t even pretty, but I wanted to be her.

  I tore my gaze from them and faced Adam.

  He tucked his upper lip into his mouth, his teeth scraping along the skin. “Why would you agree to this then?”

  Hope. I closed my eyes, unable to speak that truth. When I opened them to answer with a well-considered lie, more truth came out anyway. God I sucked. “I ... I’m tired of being the rebound. I thought ... it doesn’t matter. Let’s just hang out, maybe go on a ride or two. Then we can forget this ever happened.”

  I twisted away, but Adam’s hand gripped my wrist.

  “No,” he said, spinning me back toward him.

  “What do you mean no?”

  His face brightened. “I mean, no, we’re going to do this a little different.”

  I raised my eyebrows for him to continue.

  “It’s simple, Rachel.” His smile grew as his hand slipped into mine. “You and I aren’t that different. You don’t want to be alone, and neither do I.”

  When he didn’t add anything else, I stepped closer, wanting to knock him for a loop. “And?”

  “Heather was... I loved her.” He squeezed my hand as his words left an iceberg in my chest. “Getting over her won’t take a week or two. It may not even happen, but I need to move on. And you ... you need something I can give you.”

  This time I moved away from him, dropping his hand like a hot coal. “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “You said you’re tired of being the rebound, right?”

  I nodded, and he smiled.

  “Then I’m taking you off the market.”

  The smell of kettle corn must have addled my brain, because what he said didn’t make sense.

  “Like I said, it’s simple. Let people think we’re a serious couple. You won’t be anyone’s rebound. And I ... well, I’ve got time to get over her without ... complications.” He closed the distance between us, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me against him. “We hang out, let people see us together. Maybe even show our affection.” His grin was infectious, and I matched it with one of my own. “We play the part for a few months.”

  “And when you’re ready to move on, or I meet someone else, we part as friends?” This idea grew on me the more I thought about it, but I had to know if this was how it would end.

  “Friends.”

  I tapped my chin with my free hand. “You think this will work? No real strings? No real relationship? Just a fake-out to get you over Heather and reset my rep?”

  “No strings. Nothing real.” His lips twitched. “Think you can handle it? I’m a lot of man for one woman.”

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, pressing the length of my body against his. “Yeah, I can handle it. The real question is can you?”

  Adam slid his arm around my waist and tugged me into the crowd. He leaned toward my ear and whispered, “We’re gonna find out.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  During the drive to Tilles Park, I relived Saturday. Again. It’d been two days, and I still didn’t want to let the night go. Adam was a perfect gentleman—well, compared to most guys I’ve dated anyway. He treated me like a goddess. The best part, besides that searing first kiss, was the Ferris wheel. We sat pressed together, his arm draped around my shoulders. We talked about everything except ourselves. For a while, it felt real. Until Heather came into view and Adam tensed beside me. I’d squeezed his knee to draw his attention from her, but it was useless. It wasn’t until she was out of sight that he relaxed.

  Thanks to the excessive number of one-way streets in St. Louis, I had to circumnavigate Tilles Park before turning off Marquette Avenue into the lot. The basketball courts sat alongside the tennis courts on the southern end of the park. They were well-maintained, and the best place to practice. The distinct thwacking of a racket hitting a tennis ball bounced around the trees.

  I hit the remote lock on my car, securing the doors with a high-pitched beep beep. Nobody else was here yet, so I took the opportunity to shoot some free throws. The ball rolled off my fingertips, swooshing through the net. It was the most satisfying sound in the universe. When I transferred to Xavier Academy before my sophomore year, I sacrificed any chance to play basketball. It was for the best, or so I thought. I couldn’t return to Parkton High anyway, not after what happened.

  “Hey, girl, starting without us?” Tisha shouted from the other end of the court.

  I turned around, smiling as my teammates strolled onto the court in their high tops and long shorts. Tisha Merrit was easily six foot with the grace of a gazelle. Beside her was Vina Lincoln, one of the quickest girls I’d ever met.

  “Not my fault you guys are always late.” I dribbled toward them, spinning around Tisha before she could drop her bag and steal the ball. The hook shot sailed from my fingers, banging off the backboard and through the hoop. “Getting slow, Tish? Maybe we should work on some speed drills.”

  Tisha let out a loud “ha” and threw her bag off the court. “Bring it, baby. You can’t do that twice.”

  We played one-on-one until Vina snuck in to steal the ball from me. She dribbled backward down the court.

  “Spill it, Westbrook. What’s got you in a good mood?” Vina asked before tossing the ball over her shoulder blind. It thunked against the backboard without touching the hoop.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grabbed the ball as it bounced toward me at half-court.

  “Uh-huh, sure.” Vina walked off the court and reached for her gallon of water.

  I turned to say something to Tisha when the other team strolled onto the court. These girls weren’t as good as us, but they weren’t bad either. We played them a few times over the summer at three-on-three tourneys in the area. They won one to our three. Each game had been close, probably because we started practicing together just before school ended last spring. It was both a good thing and a bad thing. They challenged us, but they also knew most of our plays. Thankfully they weren’t going to the Jason Andrews Tournament in Quincy over Labor Day weekend. The three-hour drive was too far for them and the entrance fee too much.

  “Get your game face on, Westbrook. We’ve got some new plays to try out today.” Tisha waved at the other girls as she strolled toward Vina. “Hey, ladies. Ready to play?”

  Darla, their de facto captain, smirked in response. Great, she was in the mood for blood. That usually meant me going down hard on the court. Darla played like a pro and would be a shoo-in for the NBA if she had the right sex organs. She also played dirty. And her two teammates, Kelly and Jeanette, followed her lead.

  Vina went over the new plays, ones she emailed me on Saturday, but I hadn’t looked at yet. I felt like an asshat. If we’re going to win this tourney, I need to get my head into practice. Especially if I was going to walk on to a college team next year. Vina’s a brilliant strategist, but she went simple with the new plays.

  We went on D first, and Darla wasted no time in trying to knock me on my rear. I saw the pick just in time to avoid it, but she got past me and drove to the basket. She scored, barely getting the ball over Tisha.

  I took my time at half-court to call and set up the play. One thing I learned from playing Darla over the summer was her lack of patience. I used it to my advantage on more than one occasion, but she wasn’t biting today. Vina and Tisha crossed the court, setting up picks. As each one rolled away, I was supposed to hit the open girl. Instead, I decided to teach Darla a lesson. I faked left, then bounced the ball between her legs. Tisha moved into the paint in time to get the ball and turn for a quick jumper. Game tied.

  Vina’s scowl could’ve backed down an NFL head coach. I stuck to the plays after that. About halfway through the second game, my thoughts drifted toward Saturday again. Adam smelled like he stepped out of the shower even after several hours outside in the August heat.<
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  Darla swiped at the ball, hitting the top of my hand, but knocking the ball off the course of my dribble. I regained control and took advantage of her being off kilter. Tisha broke free of Kelly. In two strides, she was under the basket springing off the balls of her feet as I tossed a sweet alley-oop toward her. The ball barely touched her fingers before she bounced it off the backboard and into the hoop. Tisha was going to be an All-American one day.

  Focus, Rachel. The thing with Adam means nothing.

  Darla caught me on my heels, spinning off my right hip and making an easy jump shot near the free throw line.

  “Still thinking about that guy who had his hands all over you Saturday night?” Darla whispered as I passed her on my way to half-court. She grinned when I glanced over my shoulder at her. “I knew that was it. Better watch it, Westbrook. They may dump you before Quincy if you lose your focus. I’d be more than happy to step in for you.”

  It was like she reached into my chest to squeeze all the blood from my heart. Basketball was the only thing I really had. Sure, there was the silver Mercedes in the parking lot, the designer clothes in the closet, and a trust fund that could buy this park ten times over, but basketball was mine. This team was mine. No way Darla was going to psych me out of it.

  I didn’t call the play by raising my hand and signaling. Without breaking Darla’s stare, I started a slow dribble, letting the rhythm tell my teammates what was going on. We’d started the “dribble call” before our last tourney. It only worked for a few plays, but our opponents were clueless. Usually you could figure out another team’s moves after watching them a few times. We mixed it up. One time the slow dribble would mean a play we called “Bump and Dump,” but the next game it may call for the “Pick and Drop.” Vina liked naming each play with a simple description.

  Darla faked toward me, but a quick crossover set her back a step. She eyed me, and I knew she was working out my thoughts. The sounds of the tennis game on the court beside us faded until I heard nothing but my own breath. I dropped back toward half-court, never taking my eyes off Darla as Tisha and Vina fought for position under the net. This play was all mine. Nothing fancy, nothing spectacular, but I almost always scored.