CRAZY FOR THIS GIRL : A Second Chance Romance Read online

  “Why?” My question is barely audible and I’m not sure he would’ve heard me if he wasn’t already looking straight at me.

  “Because you’d definitely shake that place up.”

  No idea what that even means.

  “I’ll...take that as a compliment.” I quickly force the rest of my sentence out as if him possessing my hand has no effect on me. It only warms the skin there, as well as the rest of my body, and that’s normal, right? There’s nothing more to it.

  “Laynee?” I hold his heavy stare, crystal green eyes holding mine with more of what he wants to say.

  I can’t breathe.

  Not with how it appears like something is jammed up in his throat and he can’t get it out. The possibilities are more like a fantasy because why would this boy have anything humiliating to say to me? He only burps, scratches himself under his armpits, and lazily sprawls out like a cat all the time.

  “You should.” He sluggishly releases my hand and the spell he casted on me, before extending his palm annoyingly. “iPod?”

  “No way, Jose.” What? He wiggles his fingers for me to place my most treasured possession in his care. “This is like separating from my child.”

  “You know nothing about having a child.”

  “I have you, don’t I?”

  He scoffs, but keeps a smile on his oh-so stupidly cute face. “Yeah, you got me. But I still want it, Laynee Reese.”

  “See, child. No means no.”

  “C’mon.” He twitches his fingers persistently again. “Give me.”

  I point at him in warning. “No deleting anything.”

  He pulls back his lips in an exaggerated smile. “Not sure if I can promise that because these songs might malfunction the device already, and—”

  “Cal.”

  He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. No deleting… just adding.”

  “Promise?”

  He bows his head. “I promise.”

  The first set of fireworks begins to go off then, splaying gold and reds over the lake. I glance toward the pontoon boat a few houses down that Mom, Dad, and Jonah are on with one of their friends. Mom wanted me to join them so we could all watch the show together, but I told her I was going to hang out with friends.

  Whether she bought it or not is still up for debate.

  I’m bound to hear something from her about Cal tomorrow if she sees me with him alone tonight. And with the number of fireworks going off in the sky, we’re a clear shot to see sitting on the dock together.

  “I think this is my favorite holiday,” Cal emits, staring up at all the various displays in the sky.

  “Over Christmas?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is my second. Christmas is fun with all the lights and music. Not so much the Christmas cookies because Mom can’t bake, but mine aren’t bad.”

  “Eh, not really around my house. My parents throw a bunch of parties and stuff, but they’re just a bunch of businesspeople. They get boring.”

  “None of them have kids they bring around?”

  “Some do, but they’re lame.”

  “Cal…”

  He leans back on his palms, keeping his gaze on the show. “They are. All rich kids.”

  “Aren’t you a rich kid? You told me you had a nanny.”

  “I haven’t had a nanny since I learned how to wipe my own ass.”

  “So last year?” A wad of green grass flies at my face, and I stick my tongue out to get the innocent greenery off my lips. Cal shows no side of remorse—shocker—as his attention remains on the bursts of colors in the sky. “Too soon?”

  “Keep it up, Tone Deaf,” he coos. “And I won’t come to save you next time my mom asks you to mop the floors.”

  He’s not lying.

  Earlier, she asked me if I could show her how to run the dishwasher. Cal had to remind her that I wasn’t the help after she pulled out an iron before that, and began inquiring how to get wrinkles out of her dress. He didn’t catch her last week when she asked me if I could wash her car. Why she’d bother having it done in the first place when we’re on a dirt road is beyond me.

  “After the fireworks, do you wanna go get some more pizza?”

  I chortle over a scoff, because for the hundredth time, this kid can put food away like no one I’ve ever known. “How are you not a thousand pounds?”

  “Quick metabolism.”

  “I need that.”

  “Why? You’re not fat.” I hum in uncertainty because I’m a little curvier than the girls at my old school, and they used to point it out quite a bit. “You’re not.”

  “I’ll get more pizza,” I reply, wanting to steer the conversation back to the original topic. My weight makes me uneasy, and I don’t want to be that right now.

  Not with Cal.

  He’s made me not so self-conscious around boys, and I like that he just has us be. Which includes music, food, and him thinking about more food.

  “See, this is why you’re the best, Laynee. Always up for snacks.”

  Right.

  Well, if I gain three hundred pounds because of him, he’s the one I’m going to blame and send my gym membership bill to.

  “You promise you’ll write?” Cal asks me for the eightieth time already this morning as my parents load up our van with all our luggage.

  Summer is officially coming to an end, and these past weeks have flown by so quickly that I’ve barely done anything I planned on doing while here.

  Instead of reading mostly all day, I’ve hung out with Cal from morning till night. He taught me how to front-flip off the dock, and I taught him how to be patient enough to catch a fish. I’ve listened to so many songs with him, I feel as though my whole world has shifted to a more harmonic vibe. I’ve learned that banana and peanut butter sandwiches are my new favorite thing, and his whole life was changed when I introduced him to piling a bunch of junk food together in one bowl. We call it mix.

  Creative, I know.

  “I don’t know.” I pat my shoulders down, then the pockets of my jean shorts. “I think I lost the piece of paper that you put your address on, and—”

  “Laynee,” he growls out, moss green irises constricted irritably in on me. Again, don’t know why he bothers; they have no effect on me.

  I smile purposely big and wide. “I got it, weirdo. How else am I going to get more music?”

  “Exactly.” His mouth curls higher and his eyes gleam happily now in the early afternoon sun.

  I’m going to miss him more than I’ll ever say to him. None of my friends are even close to being like him, and maybe it’s that California Beach Boy vibe, but I’ve grown to really like it.

  “You can save my lists when I write you and download them to your iPod.”

  “Illegally,” I counter back. “That’s messed up.” He showed me a program called Napster and how you can get free music, then went on nonchalantly about how punishable by law it is.

  “We’re fourteen, Lay. How do they expect us to listen to music? MTV sucks, and the radio only plays mainstream crap.”

  “MTV isn’t that bad.”

  Cal hits me with a give me a break expression. “Don’t disappoint me while we’re apart. I expect a fully educated music goddess when I see you next summer.”

  “Oh, shoot.” My eyes expand artificially, and I look back to my cabin. “Did I say I was coming back here? Dad’s selling the cabin, and I’m going off to boarding school in Switzerland.”

  “You wish,” he tsks with a roll of his eyes. “What do they even speak over there?”

  “Swiss German mostly.”

  “And you know how to speak that?’ He heaves a brow and doesn’t even wait for me to answer before saying, “Didn’t think so.”

  “There’s a little thing called a translator.”

  “Switzerland has nothing on a summer with me, Tone Deaf. You’ll miss all the fun here.” Cal takes a step toward me and suddenly looks nervous, which causes me to immediately be the same. “I have something for you.”

  “What is it?” He pulls his hand from around his back, and in the palm of his hand is a little painted turtle flaying his little feet around. “Oh my God!”

  My hands fly to my mouth because I’m immediately in love with him, and this whole time we’ve been talking, I didn’t realize that he had something hiding behind him. We’ve spent all summer with Jonah trying to catch one, and this idiot did.

  Go figure.

  “Like it?” He tips the little turtle up for me to get a better look and my whole body smiles.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Impatiently waited.”

  I chuckle because he’s worse than me. Seriously, the pizza guy was late last week and Cal about had a fit. “But when? I’m with you all the time.”

  “This morning when I was waiting for you to come out.”

  Lord, grant me the strength…

  I will not develop anything more than a friendship with this boy. So, why is it a daily reminder to myself as of late? Honestly, I need to hang out with the opposite sex more because this special attention—if you want to call it that—is screwing with my headspace.

  I ease up on the smile taking hold of my face because I probably look like a possessed clown.

  I want to keep the turtle, but we have a three-hour ride home and nothing to keep him in. Plus, Mom will probably have a fit about it. Even more of one since Cal gave it to me.

  He could give me worse things if you think about it.

  A hickey.

  An addiction to alcohol.

  We could’ve smoked weed on the side of one of our cabins, and he could’ve brought me home super late. Cal and I barely went anywhere that wasn’t some sort of shouting distance from one of my parents.


  “I love him,” I say, brushing my index finger underneath the turtle’s claws. “He’s the best thing I’ve ever been given by anyone.”

  “Really?” His tone raises as if he doesn’t believe me, but it is. This moment, things like this, can’t be bought.

  And it’s so Cal to do something like this.

  He’s not your normal teenage boy like I thought he was. Yeah, he’s gross with some of the things he does, but he can’t help himself, being the born sex that act like cavemen on a daily basis.

  I can’t hold that against him, but this little turtle who wants nothing to do with us right now as he moves all four of his little legs and arms, will be something I’ll never forget.

  I nod reassuringly at my best friend to ease his mind. “Yeah, dummy. He’s amazing and so cute.” My heart sinks in my chest at what I have to say next, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m ungrateful.

  He did this for me because he wanted to.

  “What’s wrong?” I meet Cal’s worried gaze and pet the little turtle with all the affection I have for him within the last minute of knowing him.

  “I can’t take him home,” I emit sadly. “I have nowhere to put him, and my mom is weird with animals. But maybe we can take a picture and find him next year?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  I drop my backpack to the ground and pull out my disposable camera. Through the lens, we take pictures of the little reptile at all angles and underneath its shell to hopefully have some sort of special marking that’ll help us identify him next year.

  “Perfect,” I convey, dropping back to my haunches to put him back.

  “Wait”—Cal’s hand grabs my shoulder. ”—we never took a picture of us together.”

  My jaw slacks a little that he’d even care.

  He’s going back to California, where bands sing about girls twenty-four-seven in skimpy clothes and summer love. I’m giving it a month before Cal falls back into his old life and forgets to do what he’s afraid I’m going to, which is write me back.

  Rising, I stand at his side and hold the Kodak above our heads a tad to take a picture. Cal’s arm wraps around my waist, and he holds the turtle between us with the other.

  I almost forget to press the button.

  I’m not built for boys, apparently. I can’t seem to function right, and Cal means a lot to me in a short amount of time. My whole body flushes in a wave of heat as we stand pressed together, and I force a normal smile before hitting the little black button.

  “One more,” Cal mutters, his tone dripping deeper than I’ve ever heard it before.

  It’s a reminder that we might not always be like this. He’ll possibly grow up and away.

  I follow his command, his arm snaking tighter around my waist as I quickly snap another shot, before forcing myself to step out of his hold and keep my back to him when I put the camera in my backpack.

  My overthinking this is ludicrous; all over a boy I’ve only known for about two months.

  “Laynee!” Mom calls out from down the gravel driveway. “It’s time to go, sweetheart.” She waves me down from behind her open car door, then gets inside the navy blue van.

  I don’t want to go back.

  I don’t want this summer to end.

  “I’ll miss you, Laynee,” Cal discloses, his voice not the normal easy-going and smooth tone that it always is.

  Standing, I turn to face him, only having but a minute to say goodbye to him. “I’ll miss you too.”

  “Send me a copy of that picture?”

  I bow my head. “Absolutely.”

  “Do me and the turtle get a hug?” He opens his arms for me, and I immediately step in them, feeling a heaviness on my chest that just developed there within seconds.

  I never thought this through.

  I, of course, knew I had to go home at the end of the summer, but I didn’t think I’d already feel so empty without Cal.

  He squeezes me tightly, thankfully making sure to keep the turtle out of it, and whispers, “I put a song on your iPod for the trip back. Here’s To The Night by Eve 6. Write me and tell me if you liked it.”

  He breaks away from me, and I feel the sting of tears hitting the back of my eyes. “Thanks.”

  “See you next summer, Tone Deaf.”

  “See you next summer, Beach Boy.” Swiping up my backpack, I give him one last smile before striding to my parents’ van and leaving behind a friend that I didn’t think I’d make.

  Someone who honestly and truly understood me.

  Weirdo and all.

  Dear Cal,

  I’m going to HIGHLY disagree with you that 98 degrees is going to be a one-hit-wonder band.

  Like, really? Your hatred for boy bands is getting a little too deep. I’m starting to believe you envy them and their hair.

  Anyway, school is alright. Being a freshman isn’t as bad as everyone made it sound to be. I like being in a public school and wearing whatever I want, when I want.

  My friend, Hannah, wants me to join the cheerleading squad with her, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not only is it a safety hazard, but I’m not “rah-rah” personality, if you know what I mean. I’d rather listen to music by people with talent than some made-up lyrics about beating a team I care nothing about.

  Also enclosed are those pictures you wanted.

  Don’t start drawing hearts with my name in the middle to make your California girlfriends jealous.

  Talk to you later, Beach Boy. Your friend, with amazing musical taste.

  P.S. I’m taking German so that I can go to Switzerland as I said at the cabin. You’re going to have to find a new friend for one of these summers.

  Sorry.

  Dear Laynee,

  I’m gonna need you to get your ears checked. They’re not that good of a band, if you’d even call them that. I bet you not one of those dudes know how to play a musical instrument. So, I’ve attached a list of songs to check out because not only are you going to need to keep up, but I can’t have your head clouded with crap.

  (Let me know what you think. I expect a full report.)

  I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to try out for the cheerleading squad. You have no rhythm, and I’ve seen you try to dance before when you thought I wasn’t looking. You looked like you were having a seizure. I almost called 911, but you suddenly stopped and acted normal, so I thought all was good.

  I made the football team, and my dad seems to be more excited about it than I am. They’ve been killing us with practices and drills. I’m exhausted but it keeps a good rep with the ladies.

  Nice try on the Switzerland thing, by the way. Don’t spit on the kid in front of you when you’re trying to learn that German stuff. It sounds like a lot of hacking.

  Thanks for the pictures, too, by the way. I only drew one heart around your face and put a bunch of candles around it. Kinda like a shrine. I got the boys on the team already asking me if you’re my girlfriend because I had a shirt made up, too, that says Property of Laynee on it.

  I look great in it, by the way.

  The girls aren’t too thrilled about it, though.

  Write me soon,

  Cal AKA your best friend

  AKA Beach Boy

  Dear Cal,

  Calm down, killer.

  You’re on the JV football team. Nothing to brag about yet, but keep practicing. You’ll get there. Maybe they’ll make a cheer about you or something.

  Your mom must’ve loved you stealing her lavender Yankee Candles because I highly doubt that’s your favorite. If it were pepperoni-scented than that may be a different story.

  (You’re insane.)

  Meanwhile, I flaked/purposely did horrible at cheerleading tryouts with Hannah. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I’m not looking to be part of the popular squad with a bunch of snotty girls who think they’re better than everyone else.

  You know, the girls you’re trying to impress over there.

  I really liked the songs you sent over. I think One Step Closer by Linkin Park may have been my favorite, however, you can keep Sum 41. They didn’t do it for me. I could just see them in their Jenko jeans with bleached blonde hair, and, yeah, no.

  I think you also jinxed me in my German class because I’m horrible at it, thanks, jerk. How else am I supposed to subtly get away from you if I can’t speak it? I may just need to save up for that translator.