Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
NASH
SUMMER BEFORE FRESHMAN YEAR
“Who’s that?” I ask Jovie, pointing across the grass at quite possibly the prettiest girl I have ever seen.
Her caramel hair is tied loosely in a braid, and her tight jeans show off her long, toned legs almost too much. She is in a group with Jovie’s family, laughing and taking sips out of her can of Dr. Pepper.
“Ehh,” she seethes. “That’s my loser cousin, Cori.”
Jovie lives down the street from me, next door to my best friend, Carson.
The only thing that separates the houses is a large wooden privacy fence.
If you walk back far enough, though, the fence stops and turns into the marsh, so you can walk around.
That’s how I skip through the yards when walking to Carson’s house, and it’s shorter than walking along the road.
I used to have a kayak that I would take over there, but I saw an alligator one time and decided that was not the way to die.
“Why the hate?” I tease. “Are you jealous?”
She scoffs, “Of Cori? Ha! No.”
I push my long dirty blonde hair back out of my eyes and reposition my snapback on my head, my eyes falling straight back to the girl.
“Would you stop staring? You are supposed to be my boyfriend, remember?”
Right. I forgot I’m bound to Jovie. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, she is the second hottest girl in school, but she gets on my absolute last nerve most of the time.
They don’t call her “crazy Jovie” for nothing.
Like every other girl in Legacy Bay, she wants Carson but settles for Plan B.
She claims that starting high school this fall as a couple will make us seem more desirable.
She swears we can break up after that. Something about guys wanting someone they can’t have.
I shake my head at how ridiculous that sounds.
“What?” She spits, yanking me by my arm across the patio.
“Nash, I get that you don’t like me, but we have a deal. It’s my birthday party, so you need to act like my boyfriend, not drool over that less hot version of me. Remember? We pretend to be a couple. I will find a hot junior or senior boyfriend this year, and I won't tell anyone about your mom.”
“I know, Jo.”
I lace my fingers with hers, showing a tiny bit of forced affection, and it’s enough to shut her up for a little while. In fact, she finally starts to mingle with her cheerleader friends, and I feel free to do something besides hold hands with the devil.
Carson is out of town this weekend with his parents visiting his grandparents in New York, and as much as I want to say that I miss him, I’m actually kind of relieved.
Sometimes it feels good not to be in the presence of greatness.
I’d be lying if I said that always coming second to your best friend doesn’t get old.
I love him, though, even if he is entirely oblivious sometimes.
His family is the poster child for perfection, and most of the time, I ooze jealousy from my invisible wounds.
My dad couldn’t care less about me and treats coming home as a chore, and my mother, well…
something is up with her. I’m just not sure exactly what.
I walk around the side of Jovie’s house, escaping the laughter and music.
I spot my pathetic excuse of a mother talking with Jovie’s mom in the main driveway and decide to walk in the opposite direction to the water.
I slip past the fence dividing Jovie’s house with Carson’s and collide with a much smaller frame.
Her eyes go wide, and her Dr. Pepper drips down her forearm.
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry.” I stammer, lifting the bottom of my t-shirt up to wipe her arm off.
“It’s alright,” she whispers, her voice sweet and angelic.
“I’m Nash!” I blurt, much louder than I meant to, and push my hand into her personal space to shake.
She giggles, taking my hand, “Corinne Clark, most people call me Cori.”
“Clark?” I question, causing her eyes to immediately roll.
“Yeah, Jovie’s dad and my dad are brothers.”
“I’m sorry.” I laugh, nervously kicking the grass with the toe of my sneaker.
She cocks her brow, “You seemed pretty cozy with her.”
“It’s complicated,” I admit, continuing my trek to the dock behind Carson’s house. To my surprise, she’s still on my heels. I sit on the edge, dangling my feet, keeping a close watch for alligators, snakes, or the Loch Ness monster.
Definitely not ruling that one out.
“If I had to hear her rave about how hot you were one more time, I was gonna vomit.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t like what you see?” I joke, locking my blue eyes on hers.
“Definitely not!” She pushes my shoulder, roaring with laughter.
“Jovie was right.” I nudge her with my elbow. “You are a loser.”
She stands quickly, brushing the backside of her jeans, “I… I should go.”
She turns to leave, and my first instinct is to grab her wrist, the warmth of her skin sending electricity up my arm. “I was just joking.”
She nods, glancing down to my fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist.
I let her go, almost frantically, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She interrupts me, taking a step away, “What were you doing over here anyway?”
“I was coming to hit,” I nod across to the other side of the backyard at the batting cage.
“Oh, you live here?” She questions as I stand up to make my way across the grass.
“No, this is Carson’s house. I live down the street.”
She grins, “Ah, Carson. I think I’ve heard his name once or twice.”
Of course, she has. Carson is a rich fourteen-year-old YouTuber.
I roll my eyes at the thought, “Yeah, he’s my best friend.”
“Let’s go,” she smiles. I follow her over to the cage and watch as she picks up one of the helmets off the rack and pushes it down over her head.
“You wanna hit?” I ask, flipping the switch to turn the machine on.
“I either hide over here with you or endure Jovie’s bragging about her perfect life. It’s an easy choice.”
I smile, tossing her a bat. “Show me whatcha got.”
Her mouth shifts into a wicked grin, dimples in her cheeks sending warmth into the depth of my chest.
“Turn the speed up!” She shouts over the dinging sound of the aluminum bat.
She doesn’t skip a beat, hitting the balls like a professional as I turn the pitching speed faster.
“Where did you learn to hit like that?” I ask. Pushing the helmet down over my head and stepping into her spot at the plate.
“My dad taught me,” is her short response, almost like I struck a nerve or pried open a stitched-up wound. She plops down in one of the chairs outside the cage and trash-talks me the entire time, making me completely lose focus. I toss the bat onto the ground taking the chair next to her.
“If you don’t like Jovie, why are you her boyfriend?” Cori asks.
“It’s a long story,” I admit, turning my gaze to the ground, knowing I can’t trust anyone enough to tell them the truth about what I know, about what Jovie knows.
She quickly jumps out of her chair, standing in front of me with her arms crossed. “Let’s make a deal.”
I choke out a laugh, “What might that be?”
“I bet I can strike you out,” she snaps, closing in on me, caging me into the chair with her arms.
I burst out in laughter as her eyes turn dark.
“Yeah, right!” I scoff, remembering my batting average is the best on the team.
“If I strike you out, you have to break up with Jovie and quit lying to everyone. You know, be… free.”
“And if you don’t?” I ask, wondering what the hell could possibly be in it for me.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” she drawls, dragging out the “whatever you want” part. “But I have to go back to Chicago tomorrow. We’re just here for the weekend.”
“Okay,” I agree. “If I get a hit, you have to kiss me.”
The demand leaves my lips before I really think it through.
Her eyes lock on mine, unafraid, “Deal.”
She backs away, grabbing a ball from the bin next to the helmets.
“Toss me a glove,” she smirks, and I throw it to her, picking my bat up off the ground.
“I know the pressure is on and all, but don’t choke,” she teases, taking her spot on the grass.
“Just throw the ball,” I warn, taking my stance.
I let the first pitch go by, watching the ball intently to know what I’m working with. She stares me down before tossing the next one, much faster than the first. I swing and miss as she chuckles.
She played me.
“What was what?” I growl.
“What’s wrong, Nashy poo?” She coos, “All I’ve heard is how Jovie’s boyfriend is a baseball prodigy destined for the pros. Or is that also a lie? Like your pathetic relationship.”
I slam my bat down on the plate, and she slings a curveball in, my bat missing the ball by a mile.
“Better luck next time,” she shrugs, taking the bat from me to hang on the rack. “I prefer video footage of you dumping her, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”
I’m not even mad. Cori tosses the glove on the ground, and I position my hands on both sides of her cheeks. Her blue eyes mirror mine, and I kiss her anyway.
I might have struck out, but I won the bet.