Chapter One
One blackboard, twenty-six names, thirteen couples. That summed up the proverbial Strike Two in my day.
Exactly six seconds ago I hurried into class and scrolled down the lines of loopy cursive writing until I came to mine:Harper Tisdale.
A long dash separated my name from the one beside it. The name of my new partner—the one I would spend a dozen hours with over the next two weeks:Jett Bryant.
Anger, stress, tension, panic—all of it manifested itself in an annoying rash of heat along the back of my shoulders where it would grow and swell and force its way into other extremities. The mere sight of Jett’s name next to mine set the heat wave in motion. I blinked hard, opened my eyes once more, but it was still there.
I knew something was wrong with this day from the moment I caught Missy eating the last bowl of the only decent cereal in the house. My stomach growled as I stared at the chalkboard in paralyzed horror. I wanted to bolt out of the classroom, push my way though the double doors at the hall’s end, and head straight to The Bread Basket for a gooey cinnamon roll with extra icing, but that would do nothing to fix my problem. I’d come back tomorrow to find that Jett was still my partner. Worse, I’d have missed a day of class, meaning I would have to lean onhimfor the details of what I’d missed.
Students shuffled past me as they entered the room. Levi and Ky gave each other high fives after spotting the board and took a seat at one of the double desks in back. Another look at the board said Lauren and Lucas were paired up. Maybe we could switch.
Carefully, so as not to make accidental eye contact, I glanced over my shoulder to see if Jett had made it to class yet. Maybe he was sick today. I felt slightly hideous for hoping this was the case, but the fact was—in my heart—I was downright praying he was hovered over a barf bowl.
My hope was crushed when I noticed a confident-looking Jett stride into the room. Jett Bryant was never hard to spot in a crowd. That tall, self-assured stature combined with dark hair, an olive complexion, and ridiculously brooding eyes made him stand out among every other student at Sweet Water High. It had done the same thing all throughout middle school and elementary too. Trouble was, he seemed to know it.
I watched him from across the room, admiration clashing with angst like a war that would never cease. His brow furrowed as he took in the disrupted seating arrangement. He glanced up at the board next. My heart stopped beating for three full seconds as I scrutinized his face.
His dark eyes narrowed as he searched for his name, then widened as they stopped at one spot. A tiny tug pulled at the sides of his lips, making the angry shoulder heat shift into something a little less…angry. He moved his gaze over the room then, stopping only once his eyes met mine. That hint of a smile grew, each corner of his full lips lifting into a pompous grin.
Holy Gorgeous.
I jerked my eyes off him and faced the front of the room. Why did guys that attractive have to know what kind of effect they had on us? Probably because dummies like me made it obvious by doing stupid things to feed their ego.
One freaking kiss. That’s all it was. One stupid kindergarten kiss and the guy thinks I’m in love with him for life. He probably thought I arranged this whole thing.The little pigtailed girl who chased him down, tackled him to the ground, and planted a kiss to his lips is trying a new tactic—magically becoming his partner in first period.
The bell rang out its obnoxious buzz, and the students hurried into their seats. Everyone but me. It was now or never. One of us had to be man enough to act, and since Jett was obviously enjoying himself too much to request a partner change, I’d woman-up and do it myself.
Ms. Tolken wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but she wasn’t horrible either. I reminded myself that I aced debate class because I was good at presenting a case. I could do this.
Chin lifted, shoulders high, I strode to the front of her desk.
Tolken sat hovered over some paperwork, leaving me with a view of the bun in her hair, which was surprisingly big for the size of her head. She’d probably just broken out of her twenties but for some unknown reason she dressed like an eighty-year-old.
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Tolken,” I said in my sweet-but-assertive voice. The voice I used for Dorothy when approaching the Oz in Sweet Water’s community production two summers ago.
“What is it?” the woman grumbled without looking up.
“I see that we have new partner assignments, and I wondered if it would be possible to make a slight change in mine.”
The chatter behind me died down, allowing me to hear the actual seconds ticking by on the ancient clock by the window.
I glanced at the time, then back to her.
Had she heard me? Should I try again?
Perhaps if I leaned my hand beside her papers…I tried that, hoping it might remind Ms. Tolken that I was, in fact, waiting for an answer to my question. The shoulder heat climbed up the back of my neck.
The chatter picked up once more. Conversations about hangnails and ball practice and the Sadie Hawkins dance.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying again. “I’m not sure if you heard me—”
“Who’s your partner?” she snapped.
A glimmer of hope. “Jett Bryant,” I whispered.
The woman lifted her chin at last, squinting at me through dark, thick frames. I doubted they were even prescription. Anything to make herself look less appealing… “Thepastor’sson?” The incredulous tone coating her words didn’t escape me.
