When Nothing Else Matters
Sneak Peek
Dylan
Istare at the page, but the words blur together. I can’t focus. I massage my temples, but it doesn’t help. Two things are consuming my thoughts and both involve Summer. Okay, if I’m being honest, there are more than two things, but let’s start there. First, the look on her face when she received that call. Something was definitely wrong. And that ex-boyfriend crap. Did she actually think I’d buy that? Second, I’m wondering if I should have told her that I’m now single. I held off because something told me that everything would change again if she knew, and we only just got into a comfortable rhythm. Plus, we’re just friends so I have no reason to tell her, right? I may as well enjoy our friendship, as it is, for as long as I can. And since there’s no hope in hell I’m getting through this today, I’m going to start enjoying it now. Leaning back in my chair, I grab my phone and text the girl who’s invading my mind.
Me: Remember the night you made me drive two hours for ice cream, because the one near us was closed?
I throw the first serve in my new favorite sport—memory tennis with Summer.
Her reply comes within a couple of minutes.
Summer: As I recall it was YOU that needed ice cream. Your beloved football team hadn’t made the playoffs.
I laugh out loud before remembering where I am and cutting myself off. I notice a few glares directed my way and cringe. My bad. Before I can reply, three little dots appear on my phone.
She’s returning serve.
Summer: Do you remember when my dog knocked you off your bike, and you cried because you got a hole in your jeans?
Summer: P.S. What are you up to?
Me: I’m in the library, NOT studying like I should be.
Me: AND… They were my favorite pair.
I imagine Summer smiling at that and wish I could see her face.
Summer: Remember the night we went swimming in Brian’s pool, even though it was freezing out?
I snicker quietly, because fuck, she’s funny. Do we have fake mutual friends now?
Point to Summer. Love-Fifteen.
Time for my comeback shot.
Me: You insisted on wearing a pink bikini that barely covered your ass, just to impress him.
Okay, so I’m flirting a little. Sue me.
Summer: Ew! Brian was 40. It wasn’t him I wanted to impress…
A laugh bursts from within me before I can stop it.
“Shhh!” someone whispers loudly—actually several someones. It’s echoing all around me.
I cover my mouth to shut myself up but fail to suppress it all. She’s good. So good. I bet she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Love-Thirty.
Rereading her message as I think up a reply, I… Hang on! Is she talking about me?
My heart jumps and then resumes its normal rhythm.
I’ll go with yes.
Me: He was definitely impressed.
I have no doubt that’s how I’d feel if I ever got the chance to see her in a bikini. Hmmm, Summer in a bikini, Summer lifting her wet body out of the water, Summer…Shit, I need a new visual. I’m in a library!
Me: Remember that boy Justin that always used to follow you around? The kid with the snotty nose.
Yep, that did the trick. Good old snotty-nosed Justin. If you exist, I thank you. Raising my water bottle in the air, I salute fake Justin and take a sip.
Summer: Of course! He was my first kiss.
At that, I lose it, and the water I’d just taken in flies out of my mouth. I try to recover, but it’s too late. Ms. Librarian storms over and stops in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest. It’s safe to say she is not happy. She doesn’t say a word, but I know the deal. “I’m just leaving.” I smile, but she continues to scowl. Packing up my books, I quickly send Summer a text before hanging my head in shame and walking out the door.
Me: Well, it’s official. You got me kicked out of the library. No more studying for me.
Game. Set. Match.
I only have twenty minutes before practice, anyway, so the chance of me actually studying was pretty slim. Still, it doesn’t hurt to make Summer feel a little bad. Or not…
Summer: Took longer than I thought.
Ha! I knew it. She’d been trying to get me kicked out. I can picture a wicked smile on her face, and I’m happy that I may have helped put it there. For the first time, I’m not second-guessing a girl. Summer and I are friends. She doesn’t have an ulterior motive, and she isn’t being friendly just to sleep with me, like most of the girls here. Sure, in this instance, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but it’s actually good to have a girl to talk to with no expectations. Even if I maybe, possibly want more.
Me: I think you owe me.
I walk to the stadium as I wait for her no doubt witty reply.
Summer: That’s fair. Worth it.
Dammit, why do I have practice? I really want to see her right now. But, then again, when do I not want to see her?
Me: I’ll need time to come up with the appropriate retribution. Practice starts soon, gotta get my head in the game.
Summer: I’ll be waiting. Don’t work too hard.
I’ll be waiting. That gives me more joy than it should. And as I arrive at the locker room, I have to force myself to wipe the smile from my face and focus.