Chapter 3
three
. . .
hadley
The sun is shining.
The birds are…well, they’re doves. They’re cooing like little maniacs.
But! It’s gorgeous at the park. Balmy mid-seventies, the golden sun is almost at its peak. Ducks are quacking, paddling around in the pond, like they’ve got places to be.
It’s the perfect day for the Briarwood High School Back-to-School bash.
We’ve done this for the last four years, and each year it seems to get bigger.
Burgers, dogs, face painting, bounce house, the whole nine.
We give out backpacks filled with school supplies for families who need them. It’s a great community day.
It’s fun and wonderful and…
“Hey, Hadley.” That rumbly, super sexy deep voice hugs me from behind.
Not sexy. Annoying. Because it’s coming out of his stupid face.
I can’t throw a temper tantrum—I’m the principal. I sure want to, but I have to be a role model for the kids and all that jazz.
Casually, I throw a look over my shoulder. “Hi.” I was trying to make my voice sound cool, calm, collected, and nonchalant. But is it? Oh, no. It’s all squeaky. Like I like him. Like I think he’s hot.
Which I do not.
Fine, maybe I do.
He’s hot. He’s always been hot. Always will be. He’s going to be a centurion McHotty.
I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.”
My heart’s pounding like a jackhammer as I face him.
Why does he have to look like that? Tousled hair, snug shirt, unfair levels of muscle. And that face. That unfair, sculpted-by-God face. Perfect eyes. Perfect lips. Perfect… everything.
I sigh, tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, and smile. Smile?
What am I doing?
I quickly drop the smile and pull my hair back out like that somehow resets my brain. I will not go gooey-eyed over the guy who dumped me by text.
“You look great.” His lips curl into that effortless, sultry smile. His gaze flicks over me. “You always do.”
“Well…you do too.” What are my lips doing?
I press my hand to my forehead and lightly bop it a couple of times. It’s like my whole body is in rebellion against my brain.
Then it hits me.
I’m in the middle of the park.
With all the kids.
And Jett.
And he’s grinning at me.
I need a hole to crawl into. Or a time machine. Or a witness protection program. Something. Anything. Just beam me up, Scotty.
“Hey, you two!” Vivi bellows from the edge of the park. She tromps over and stops, hands on her hips. The woman is smiling too wide. “Isn’t this a gorgeous day?”
“Yeah, it’s freaking fantastic,” I deadpan.
My best friend just keeps smiling like her lips are sewn into that position. “Looks like Mr. Wednesday got the paddle boats here just fine.”
“Yeah.” I follow her line of sight to the pond. “We’re down one this year, but to be fair, most of the time they aren’t even used.”
Jett chimes in. “Well, do you go out there?”
I scoff. “Uh, no. I’m in charge. I don’t have time to paddle boat.”
Vivi nudges my arm. “I’ve got things covered if you want to have fun this year.”
Jett perks up. “Hey, we can lead by example. Maybe if they see us out there, they’ll want to join in, kind of like no one wants to dance until that first couple gets on the dance floor.”
Oh, absolutely not. “I’m sure someone else can—”
“Chicken.” Jett bawks at me.
“Stop that!”
I hate that. Almost as much as I hate him. I’m not a chicken. “I just don’t want to paddle boat.”
He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “When did you get so stuffy?”
“I’m not stuffy.”
“You are,” Vivi says, entirely too quickly.
I gape at her. The sheer audacity that she would side with him. “Am not. I’m the queen of fun.”
“Fun-size candy bars maybe,” Vivi quips.
Jett squawks like a chicken again. “Come on Skates, show ‘em how it’s done.”
That nickname sends a four-alarm fire through my veins.
That’s how we officially met. The Bobcats were having a fan appreciation day. Everyone in the town was invited to skate. Maybe I was a little cocky. I’d been skating since I was a toddler, so I thought I’d show off. That I’d show ‘em how it’s done.
Oh, I showed ‘em. I hit the ice so hard I bounced. I flat out ka-thunked. The humiliation as everyone—and I mean everyone—like synchronized swimmers, turned their heads to watch my humiliation unfold.
Ended up with a broken tailbone a month before my first year of high school. For the first eight weeks of my freshman year, I had to carry a donut cushion so my butt could heal.
Of course, by then it didn’t matter. I was already with Jett.
He was so sweet.
He was the first one on the ice to check on me. The first to offer a hand. And the first to ask me on a date.
Which I couldn’t go on—because I couldn’t sit.
So what did he do? He showed up at my house with a burger and a shake from the Ice-Ice Burger Barn. Said if we couldn’t go out, he’d bring the date to me. We talked, we laughed, we hung out—for four weeks straight, until school started.
That’s when he gave me the nickname “Skates.” He said we could either laugh about it or let it rule my entire freshman year—and I was way too cool to let it rule me. He made me face it with humor, not shame.
And from then on… he met me at my door every morning. Carried my books to class. Walked me to each one.
He did that every day for four years.
Because he loved me.
And I felt it. Deep in my bones. I never had to guess. He didn’t just say it. He showed it.
I blink back tears.
“You okay, Skates?” he asks, softly.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
“Come on.” He reaches for my hand, and when I try to pull away, he squeezes tighter. “Vivi can hold down the fort. Let’s have some fun.”
I protest—uselessly. He’s already tugging me toward the pond. And then—he lifts me. Over his shoulder. Like I weigh nothing.
Before God and everyone.
There I am: Hadley Whitaker, principal of Briarwood High, being carried like a duffel bag by Jett freaking Monroe, pro hockey player.
I’m too stunned to scream. Just…hanging.
He sets me down at the edge of the pond, and my brain finally comes online.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” I swat at his chest, emphasizing each word.
The jerk-face is smirking!
Ohhh, I want to wipe that smirk off his face.
And then maybe kiss him.
What is wrong with me?