Chapter 1 Jace
ONE
JACE
I’m a math nerd and an artist, not a writer, but if I did write a book, it would be called How to Lose a Crush in Ten Days. And by days, I mean years. And by lose, I mean throw that crush down and grind it to dust with my heel.
Crushes are painful. Not the silly ones on pop stars and hockey players—I can’t be the only one.
The ones on guys who are older and live next door, so they’re always around.
And, of course, straight. Because if I’m going to be in soul-crushing, unrequited love with someone, it might as well be someone totally unattainable.
When Lannie moved in next door, I was seventeen and on the cusp of adulthood. And in that idyllic teen way, I thought we were possible. That me being in high school and him being seven years older didn’t matter. Those rules were for other people. Other people not in love with their hot neighbor.
I cringe, thinking about it now. And I’d love to tell you that after those awkward teen years, I grew up, met a sweet guy, and fell in love for real.
Or that I focused on college and my career as a statistician and forgot about guys altogether.
Hell, I’d settle for I went off to college and had tons of sex with tons of guys and realized I didn’t need a heteronormative idea like one true love forever with one guy.
But my heart wants to torment me by remaining in love with the one guy I can never have, destining me to a loveless life filled with unrequited longing.
If I’m going to tell the story of how I plan to get rid of my crush, I might as well start at the beginning. The first day I met Lannie Reynolds. The day my life changed forever.
When the moving van arrives next door, I don’t think much about it.
We live in Willow Springs, a small town in Iowa just south of Cedar Rapids.
Our previous neighbor, Mrs. Cash, yelled at me constantly when our basketball ended up in her yard, so I’m not sad at all about getting a new neighbor. Mostly indifferent.
I’m a senior this year, and I’m determined to get into college at Washington University in St. Louis. That’s my sole focus.
Until a few days later, when I’m washing my car and jamming to my playlist. A tap on my shoulder startles me, and I jerk around with the hose still spraying.
A guy jumps back with a gasp, and I release the trigger. But it’s too late. He’s soaked through, and I can’t help noticing how his clothes now cling to his body. He’s a few inches taller than me with dark hair and green—no, wait—hazel eyes. And he’s easily the hottest guy I’ve ever met.
He shakes out his hands and pushes his overlong bangs off his face. Is he going to start yelling like Mrs. Cash? Instead, he pulls his shirt away from his body and chuckles. His eyes meet mine, sparkling with amusement, and those dimples—Damn.
He holds up his hands in an I-have-no-weapons gesture, but he’s a lying liar. Because he has weapons. That smoking hot body and killer smile.
I should say something, but I’m frozen in place, like I’ve been hit with a stun gun.
“I’m Lannie,” he says, continuing to pull at his shirt. “I just wanted to say hi and bring over some cookies.” He glances down at the soggy plate by his feet.
“Oh, sh—crap. My bad.” I scoop up the cookies and return them to the plate. Then hold out the mess for him.
He laughs as he takes them, his fingers brushing mine. His touch sparks against my skin, and I might need the hose again to cool myself down. Lannie doesn’t seem to notice, thank God.
“No worries…” He hesitates as if waiting for me to say something.
“Oh.” My face heats up. “I’m Jace. Nice to meet you. Sorry again about the cookies.”
“It’s no problem. I can make more. I need to change anyway. Hopefully, then it’ll be safe for me and my clothes to meet the rest of your family.”
I laugh and rub the back of my neck. “Isn’t it usually the other way around? The neighbors welcome you?”
His smile freezes and something sad flashes in his eyes. “Yes…usually.”
Way to go, Jace. Mom had planned on going over to say hello, but then they had to take our cat, Boots, to the vet.
Then the real smile is back, teasing this time. “Where are my cookies, Jace?”
My seventeen-year-old heart doesn’t stand a chance.
At eighteen, I’ve mostly hardened my heart to this stupid crush. Lannie is now part of the family. And game night is serious business.
“You can’t play that card.” I jab my finger across the table at my partner.
“You’re not the boss of me, Jace,” Lannie says, his hazel eyes bright with amusement. And just like that, my brain takes a trip—we’ve been on this one before. Destination: Heartbreak.
“If you renege, we go back a hundred and twenty points…”
“This isn’t a debate,” Mom says, gesturing to my dad. “Tell them, Frank. You can’t confer with your partner during the game. His hand is off the card. No takesie-backsies.”
“Really, Mom?”
She rolls her hand in a get-on-with-it gesture.
“I’m afraid she’s right. Once the hand is off the hand—see what I did there?—you can’t change your mind.”
Groaning, I cover my face. My family is a bunch of jokesters.
My dad loves dad jokes. Lannie tries to one-up him, and it gets brutal and embarrassing and—although I’ll never admit it—hilarious.
My siblings Ruby and Colton are pranksters.
My mom is the witty one. Her jokes come with a side of sarcasm.
I’m the serious one. The straight man. The unstraight-straight man.
“I wouldn’t change it anyway. Stop counting cards. That’s not legal.”
“This isn’t Vegas, Lannie. Keeping track of cards is the whole point in Rook. You’ve been playing for a year now. Figure it out.”
“Do you guys want to argue or finish the game?” Dad asks, playing his next card.
“Argue,” we say at the same time. The shared grin plays right into my heart’s fantasies. This won’t end well, but I don’t care. In this moment, with Lannie’s eyes on me, his smile only for me, I give my heart the win.
We lose the hand and are down by several hundred points. My parents usually win, so it’s expected. Mostly because Lannie still doesn’t understand the game. Dad deals, and it’s Lannie’s turn to bid.
He studies his cards, and then his eyes catch mine with a trust-me look. Crap. “Shoot the moon.”
“Time out.”
Dad shakes his head with what I can only describe as glee on his face. “We’re not playing basketball.”
“Time out,” I say again, more forcefully.
“Let them have it, Frank. It won’t matter. We’ve got this game on lockdown.”
“Fine,” my dad says, like he’s making a huge concession. “But you talk where we can hear you and no telling your cards.”
“That’s not how time out works—”
“Take it or leave it.”
I sigh and steel myself to be firm with Lannie. “If you shoot the moon and we lose even one point, we forfeit the game.”
“Technically, don’t we go back five hundred points?”
I ignore that. “A good hand isn’t enough. You need—”
“Uuuuuu.” My dad makes a buzzing noise. “No hand talk.”
I slam my palms on the table. I may not be funny, but I’m competitive. I hate losing. Especially since I’m an excellent Rook player. My partner just sucks—this time, my brain makes the buzzing sound.
Dragging my thoughts to the safe zone, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“They only need twenty points to win, Jace. For once in your life, take a chance.”
I give in. What else can I do?
The play is intense. And I’m surprised to find Lannie has the Big Rook. But he doesn’t have the Little Rook. Because I have it. Not that he knew that when he bet everything on one hand. He slaps the table when I lay it down and grins at me. “That’s my partner!”
I ignore the fluttering in my heart. And I store the words in my memory to play a thousand times over.
Not just the words. The grin. The pride as I take over, easily winning his vulnerable cards and saving his ass because I did have a good hand.
We win all the point cards until the final play.
This determines it all. My green five is up for grabs.
My stomach knots. Why do I care so much? It’s only a game. One we will play at least two more times this week. I swallow the lump in my throat and throw the five down. Lannie frowns, and I know we’ve lost. We should play Texas Hold’em instead. This boy has no poker face.
Mom plays a yellow ten. Relief floods through me. But only for a second because Dad could have that nine. Mom grins like she knows they’ve got the game all sewn up.
Sighing, Lannie plays his last card. We all stare at it, stunned. The green nine. Dad throws his losing card down in disgust, and Lannie whoops in excitement.
“How?” I stare at him. His grin stretches across his face. It’s so big he can’t contain it.
“Told you. Told you, told you, told you.” He stands and does a victory dance like the one the Bears receiver did last Sunday when he scored. Lannie’s a huge Bears fan. God only knows why. Not like he’s from Illinois. Wait? Is he from Illinois? “And you doubted me.”
“But you don’t have a po—” And then I get it. “You didn’t know.”
“I thought we could win. Everything doesn’t have to be certain.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t know you had the winning card,” I say, mostly to myself. It explains everything.
He shrugs. “I thought Frank might have the eleven.”
“Really? The green eleven that was played two hands ago? That eleven?” I jump to my feet and wave my hands. “I can’t believe you still don’t know how to play.”
He frowns. “I know how to play.”
“You shot the moon—”
“Exactly.” He grabs my arms and grins, all his frustration gone. “Fourth down with two seconds left and a Hail Mary pass. And we did it, Jace. We won the game!”
“We did.” I laugh. Holy shit.
He smiles at me like I’m the only person in the room. “Best partner ever.”
This crush isn’t going away any time soon.