CRAZY FOR THIS GIRL : A Second Chance Romance Read online

“Why you’d break up?”

  I wiggle in my chair, not wanting to continue on with this weird lie of mine. I just don’t want him trying to hit on me all summer, because, honestly, I don’t want to be self-conscious of everything I do.

  “Left town.”

  “Damn...that sucks.” I bob my head in agreement because if it was true, it would. “Well, according to this stupid quiz, you don’t have a type.”

  I contently cross my legs and lean back in my padded rocking chair while he stares aimlessly at the quiz as if it may have given him the wrong answer. “Sweet. Make sure you read the section on makeup. I’m looking for this season’s best mascara and eyeliner.”

  Cal rolls his eyes, but I see the remnants of a smirk play along the edges of his mouth.

  Meanwhile…I’m just grateful he stops with the stupid and prying questions.

  “How many people fit on this thing?” Cal warily looks around the floating docks we’re currently standing on in the middle of Clear Lake. Several of them are tied together for the annual Fourth of July party, and it doesn’t appear like the safest thing to do. Still, the neighbors only add on to it every few summers with more chairs, grills, a few more coolers, and more people.

  This thing is going to sink one day.

  They all get together on their boats, jet skis, and floating devices, partying until all hours of the night. The firework displays are amazing; it’s probably one of my favorite nights here, even though I mostly play with the little kids and not ones my own age.

  “I dunno,” I reply. “I never asked.” Grabbing two Coke cans out of a random cooler, I hand one over to Cal.

  He cracks the top and takes a giant sip, remnants of carbonated soda trailing down his chin as he quickly drinks it. That’s one thing I like about Cal; during these weeks we’ve hung out every day, he doesn’t care. “This thing ever tip?”

  “Almost did once. Too many people,” I fib, aimlessly glancing at the dozens of people around us talking amongst themselves as if I’m accessing the situation. “Kinda like now.”

  Cal gently nudges me with his elbow. “You wouldn’t be on this if it did.”

  “Why? I know how to swim.” I lift a challenging, yet innocent brow. “Do you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I smile widely. “Let’s see.” Without warning, I shove Cal off the edge of the floating surface and watch him crash into the calm water below.

  For the record, I’ve seen Cal swim.

  He breeches the top within seconds, Coke can still in hand and thankfully a shirt on. I saw him two weeks ago without one, and I don’t like how my breathing caught so abruptly. I had to subtly turn away because the immediate blush that crept on my cheeks wasn’t something I wanted noticed or talked about.

  His green eyes immediately slit up at me as he rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair, but he doesn’t look that upset with what I’ve done. It’s scorching hot today, and the sun has been unforgiving with the way its rays have blasted down on us for the last few days.

  “Cheap shot, Laynee,” Cal scolds, swimming to the edge of the dock. “You gotta help me up now.”

  I shake my head and tsk because I’m not an idiot. “Ladder’s over there.” I point a few feet down to it and grin. “Nice try, though.”

  Cal mumbles something under his breath but heads over to get back up.

  I sit down to give him less of a chance to return the favor, just as Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child suddenly comes on over someone’s CD player. My brows knit—because, hello, parents are around—before I look over my shoulder to see who put that song on, but Cal’s frame bumps mine as he takes a seat next to me. Then he grosses me out when he lifts his Coke and starts chugging the watered-down beverage.

  “Ew, Cal, stop. You have lake water in there.” I hand him over mine. “Here, weirdo.”

  He promptly takes it, drinks half of it, then gives it back. I swear I don’t know where this kid keeps everything because all he does is eat and drink. “Your fault.”

  “Call it initiation for moving in.”

  “Finish your Coke so we can go eat lunch.” He places two fingers under the bottom of my can and lifts it to my lips to hurry me up. “I’m starving.”

  I shoo his hand away, “When aren’t you starving? My God.”

  “I’m a growing boy.” He pats his stomach like it explains everything. “I need sustenance every thirty minutes. Plus, my mom said she’d get us pizza.”

  I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “There’re burgers and hot dogs everywhere around here. You just pick up whatever you want and eat.”

  “We’ll have that later.” He waves a dismissive hand in the air and pushes himself up to stand. “Pizza first.”

  “Cal, you’re—”

  “Hey, Laynee.” A faux-sweet tone greets up my spine, coated in everything but kindness and cheer.

  I should’ve known.

  Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child was a clear hint that the Luther twins were present.

  Hesitantly, I glimpse over my shoulder again, finding Jessica and Janelle in identical skimpy bikinis, their hazel eyes already pinned on Cal like he’s prey.

  This is just like middle school all over again.

  Girls claiming their male counterpart with glittery chapstick and will do practically anything short of murder to keep it that way.

  And he’s more than likely studying them back the same way, with pure interest, because—well, he’s a freaking boy.

  Me, I don’t even rise to my feet to greet them. I’ve had my fair share of Luther twins fun that included cutting the floating dock I was on from the adjoining ones, allowing me and Mr. Ferrari to float away from the rest while we were talking about all the concerts he went to in the 70s. They couldn’t have been more obvious when they were the only ones watching and waving. Then there are the fake conversations they make with me just to make them feel better than me or something.

  Mom would tell me to kill them with kindness.

  I kill them with silence.

  It also doesn’t help that they're beautiful, with dark brown hair and designer clothes. I can only be grateful that they barely have boobs. Janelle hides hers teasingly—if you wanna call it that—with her long and wavy hair. Jessica is so oblivious that hers is pulled back in a ponytail, making sure that the way they’re set up, they could fall out at any time.

  Where are their parents? And maybe they should read a Cosmo to help figure out which bathing suit would best suit their body type because it does nothing for their non-existent breast.

  “Did you forget our names or something, silly?” Janelle presses, quirking a perfect brow and trying to keep her voice placid, when really, she’s impatient and rude.

  “Hey, Janelle,” I mutter, not caring that I said it to her twin, Jessica, instead.

  They ignore my mishap and keep their viper study of the boy now standing next to me.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  Great.

  There goes my buddy for the summer that I’ve actually grown accustomed to. He’s only ever on my front porch within minutes of my feet hitting it, and I’m getting used to his stupid quizzes and talks of music. He’s almost better than Miss Litwa. And Janelle and Jessica will have him tied up with all sorts of activities and parties.

  “This is Cal.” I take a sip of my soda and stare at a pair of jet skis going by. “He just moved in next door.”

  I hear them exchange pleasantries but feel Cal’s inquiring gaze on me.

  I’m not going to tell him how crappy they are. I’m hoping he’s smart enough to see and make that decision all on his own.

  I was never one to start gossip because who am I? Plus, it’ll look like I’m jealous or something, and I’m not.

  “Hey, did you want to go ride on my father’s jet ski?” I hear Janelle ask, and I know it’s directed at Cal, not me, because they’d never invite me to anything but grab them sunscreen and treat me like the help.

  “Laynee and I were just about t
o go eat,” Cal says flatly. “Maybe another time.”

  “Oh, but you have to come,” Jessica coos in that annoying rise of her voice. More like an entitled whine, if you ask me. “Daddy won’t let me drive one alone.”

  “And for good reason,” I mutter under my breath. Last year, Jessica almost ran a bunch of kids over because she drove the jet ski into the swimming area.

  “It’ll only take ten minutes,” Janelle offers, using her go-to weapon of peer pressure. “Laynee can wait, can’t you, girl?”

  “Nah,” Cal claims with a shake of his head. “I’m—”

  “Go ahead,” I tell him, glancing up from the water, smiling sweetly at him. Then through my teeth, I say, “Or they’ll never leave.”

  Hint: Please go so we can get this over with.

  He knits his brows, and I don’t know if it’s because I put him in a weird position of him really not wanting to do this, or if he’s just being polite. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Freaking not.

  “Awesome,” Janelle quips when Jessica squeals her excitement, almost piercing my eardrums.

  Cal gets to his feet, then surprises me when he bends over to whisper in my ear. His warm breath brushes over a part of my body that I didn’t know was so sensitive, and I force back a shiver. “I’ll be right back. Don’t eat without me.”

  “Get out of here,” I grumble back, rolling my eyes because, again, with the food.

  I hear them pad off, but not before I hear the snobby comment of Janelle’s behind me that makes me want to trip her. “Thanks for the new summer fling, hermit.”

  I glare at the water as an alternative to my first thought as she practically skips away

  Honestly, this isn’t a big deal.

  I may have spent most of my time—all of my time—with Cal over the last three weeks and dodged conversations with Mom about boys in general. Still, I’ve spent previous summers by myself with no problem. I’m able to keep myself occupied. And if Cal wants to spend the summer with the Luther twins, it’s fine by me.

  A female giggle mixed with a scream sounds in front of me some time later, and I locate Cal on a green jet ski with Jessica latched to the back of him like a baby koala. She’s tightly holding onto him as he zips around the lake and lifts an arm to wave at me.

  I wave back.

  My thoughts drift to Cal Harper beginning to be a problem…as a twinge of jealousy courses through me.

  A really cute and somewhat smart problem.

  “Laynee, seriously—” Cal pulls out the other side of my headphones that we’re sharing and hits me with an exasperated look at my music selection—“I like you and all, but your tunes are trash.”

  My brows clash together because he really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. If anything, I take tremendous pride in what I listen to because it’s not the norm of my age group, which includes boy bands and mainstream pop music.

  I hit him with a look that clearly states he’s a nut job. “How can you go wrong with the oldies?”

  “When we’re in the early 2000s,” he quips easily. “No one listens to that crap anymore. You’re listening to outdated dance moves like the twist and telling a girl named Susie to wake up.” He promptly puts the headphone back in his right ear and clicks the next button on my white iPod. The Spice Girls’ 2 Become 1 comes on, and Cal hits me with a full-on glare.

  I might be the victim of his weak and non-intimidating disapproval of my songs, but it’s not the thing that I can’t help being fully fixated on.

  With us sharing my headphones, we’re extremely close to each other. I can smell his sweat from the heat of the day and the spicy scent of his deodorant. When he looks over at me, sometimes I find his green eyes dropping for seconds at a time down to my lips. The gesture makes my stomach flip, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment and something else I can’t find an adjective for.

  Not only that, but when he was done earlier from driving Jessica around the lake for a few minutes, he immediately returned to me. I honestly thought he would hang out with the twins for the rest of the day, but he surprised me, then declared that he was still hungry and still wanted that pizza.

  Meant to Live by Switchfoot plays next on our shared headphones, and Cal signals his approval with a thumbs up. “Okay, now it’s getting a tad bit better.”

  “I’ll write these songs down for you if you’re getting jealous,” I concede teasingly. “Not everyone can be a genius at knowing a good song when they hear one.”

  Cal slants his moss eyes over to me, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t know if I’d say you're a genius or plainly tone-deaf.”

  I yank on his side of the headphones so that it pops out of his ear. “Alright, then show me your iPod, Beach Boy. I bet you have some old ’80’s rock on there.”

  “Never said there was anything wrong with hair bands,” he retorts. “Just music our parents used to dance to in poodle skirts and when sharing a straw in a milkshake was considered making out.”

  I laugh at his stupid commentary and Cal smirks at me, swiping up his iPod and unplugging the jack from mine before inserting it into his.

  “Ready to be mind-blown, Tone Deaf?”

  “Mhm…” I roll my eyes. “Be easy on me, Cal. I’m not sure if I can take it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could. You’re not so ordinarily boring.”

  “Cute.”

  He winks at me. "Think so?”

  I give his elbow a shove because I don’t know what else to do other than answer yes and then proceed to die. He, thankfully, continues to sift through his songs, looking for the perfect one to allegedly blow my mind.

  “Make it a good one,” I exhort haughtily to keep myself and our conversation on the straight and narrow.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he says oh-so confidently. “I got my Laynee all set up.”

  When a song clicks on, I can already tell that this song is going to be different. I don’t listen to much rock music, and it doesn’t take long for the guitar to start up.

  Cal begins to bob his head in a steady beat as I listen to the clear lyrics. Glancing over at Cal, who’s lip-syncing the words, he doesn’t missing a beat or a lyric when he does. His crossed legs bounce with the beat of the drum symbols, gently brushing mine from time to time, and I close my eyes, listening to the message and why Cal likes it so much.

  Music to me is such a powerful entity. It speaks when words are hard to manage. It fills a void or a feeling to make it create more sense in our lives. If I could play an instrument or even sing, I’d start writing my own music. But I’m not creative enough to put emotions to paper.

  When the song ends, I crack my eyes open to find Cal blatantly staring at me. My cheeks blush furiously yet again as I force a sentence to leave my throat.

  Sorta.

  “I…liked it.”

  His lips lift as if I complimented him and not the song. “See. Stick with me, kid. We were meant for so much more good music like this.”

  “How do I even know the rest of your playlist is like this?”

  “You wanna find out?” He quirks a brow. “I can show you so much more than that song.”

  My jaw drops a little bit like in every movie with Heath Ledger in it.

  Calm down, Laynee, and get your head out of the gutter.

  “Let me borrow your iPod for the night?”

  “What?” I raise a suspicious brow and my iPod to my chest, immediately on my guard because its like my bible. “Why?”

  “Trust me?”

  “I’ve only known you for three weeks.”

  “Have I broken your trust yet?”

  “I wouldn’t give you the chance,” I counter back, my defenses always on standby to loan up and activate.

  I need to chill.

  Cal has no means to hurt me with living on the other side of the country. Besides, he’s been cool thus far; why bother worrying if he’s a royal jerk or not? All I need to do is sic my mother on him and he’ll never come around again. r />
  “Why’s that?” He swivels his body to face me fully, his knee brushing mine and I’m conscious of every body part of his. “Am I too cool for your high standards?”

  I side-eye him through narrowed eyes. “I’m not the Luther twins.”

  “The who?”

  “You only took them both for a ride on a jet ski today, Harper.” I point to the lake within yards of us. “Don’t tell me your memory span lasts only an hour. You might want to get that checked out.”

  He easily matches my unamused stare with one of indifference. “It auto deletes things that aren’t important.”

  I scoff at him through a light chuckle even though I’m thrilled that the two beach blondes didn’t seize his attention. “You’re a snob.”

  “And you’re…” When he doesn’t finish his sentence, I hit him with a challenging look that says he better pick a pretty bomb word, or I’m going to chuck his iPod in the lake, and he can swim for it in the dark.

  “Well?” I press lightly, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. He still says nothing and they immediately slump in defeat. “Do you not know that many words?” Cal’s mouth curls, but he doesn’t say a freaking word, which prompts me to get slightly nervous at what he might think of me. I give him a little nudge for my sake before I allow myself to become paranoid with negative ideas. “C’mon, jerk.”

  “Don’t rush me,” he scolds half-heartedly with a smirk. “I gotta think of a good one.”

  “How about awesome? Cool? Baller tastes in the art of musical selection?”

  “That’s more than one word.”

  I hit his hard bicep and make an attempt to pluck his iPod from his lap, when his hand promptly snatches my wrist.

  He holds it there, his long fingers freezing my body in place as I wait to see what he’s going to do next. I feel the slight brush of his thumb along the inner part of my palm, and my next breath hitches.

  “I was thinking…you’re one of a kind,” he mutters ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to prickle from my skin. “And I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Maybe you should get out of California more.”

  “Maybe you should come visit me in Cali.” His thumb continues its soft assault along the sensitive part of my hand, sending smooth electrical currents through my body. “I’d like you to be there.”