More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
We’re halfway up the stairs. I try a different route and pinch his deltoid muscles. When that fails, I go for the lats. He rears back as if he’d been shot, then curses in annoyance. “Stop that.” “I will if you put me down.” I pinch him again, and again.
“Wow,” I say. To my surprise, Hunter follows me into my room and throws himself on the bed. His abs bunch up and ripple as he gets comfortable. “That was unreal,” he says drowsily. I stare at him. “Is there a reason why you’re lying in my bed?” “Not really.”
“Summer,” I say softly. She looks like she’s going to cry, so I slowly walk toward her. Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her. I touch her.
“I’ll fix the lock. I promise.” Her body relaxes as she exhales. “Thank you.”
My folks are exhausting.
Also, he and I—and this slightly horrifies me, as I’m not sure what it says about me—have a lot more in common than I ever could have imagined. In the past hour, I’ve discovered that he prefers tea to coffee, isn’t ashamed to say he loves Harry Styles’ solo album, and is as obsessed with the movie Titanic as I am.
“I love the Kardashians,” Hollis chimes in. “If you say one word about their butts,” I warn. “I like the show,” he assures me. “It’s funny.” “Liar. No way you watch the show.” “Bible.” I gasp. “Oh my God. Okay. We’ll discuss the current season later.”
“You know what, we’re dealing with this right fucking now.” He takes a menacing step forward. “’Scuse us, Mike.” “Naw, man, this was just getting good!” I hold up my hands in a defensive pose as Fitz edges toward me. “Don’t you dare,” I caution. “Don’t you fucking—” I’m being flung over his shoulder before I can finish that sentence. Un-frigging-believable! “How is this happening again?” I shriek. My protests fall on deaf ears, because Fitz is already carting me up the stairs.
The moment I set her down, she takes a swing at me. Startled laughter lodges in my throat. I easily block her fist before it can connect with my solar plexus. “Stop that,” I order.
“You know what really hurts? That you just assumed there was nothing more to me than parties and shopping. I’m a loyal friend. I’m a good daughter, a good sister. You’d spent, what? Ninety minutes in my presence? And you think you know the whole story?”
“If you’re so eager to grant favors, I need one from you.” He laughs. “Do I even want to know?” “Can you find out where Hal Richmond was born?” “Who?” “Briar’s assistant dean. He has a British accent, and I’m convinced it’s fake.” There’s a beat. “Princess.” Dad sighs. “Are you torturing this poor man?” “I’m not torturing anyone,” I protest.
“Summer?” I freeze at the sound of Fitz’s voice. It’s followed by a soft knock on my door. “You okay?” My breath escapes in a trembling wheeze. “F-fine!” I manage to answer, and cringe at the crack in my voice. He hears it too. “I’m opening the door now, okay?” “No,” I blurt out. “I’m fine, Fitz. I promise.” “I don’t believe you.” The door eases open and his handsome, worried face appears.
“What’s wrong?” he demands. “Nothing.” My voice shakes again. “You’re crying. That’s not nothing.” His eyes drop to the dozens of notes stuck to the floor. “What’s all this?” “Evidence of my stupidity,” I mumble. “What?” “Nothing.” “Stop saying nothing. Talk to me.” His thumb rubs a gentle line up my wet cheek. “I’m a good listener, I promise. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Maybe if I wasn’t feeling so vulnerable at the moment, I would’ve been strong enough to push him away. But I’m weak and I feel defeated, and when he holds out his arms, I climb into his lap, bury my face against his chest, and allow him to comfort me.
“Hey,” he murmurs, running a soothing hand up and down my back. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed by school. We all stress about it.” “You get stressed?” I ask in a small voice. “All the time.”
“My brain doesn’t like the meds. Unfortunately, that means it’s up to me to focus my thoughts, and that’s really hard sometimes.” “What can I do to help?” I jerk up in surprise. “What?”
if I can’t condense all the info, this paper will be like fifty pages long, and it’s only supposed to be three thousand words, and I don’t know how to streamline all the ideas, and—” “Breathe,” he orders. I stop and do what he says. The oxygen clears my brain a little. “You’re letting yourself get carried away again. You need to go one step at a time.” “I’m trying. That’s the point of the stupid sticky notes, to break it all down.” “How about talking it out? Does that ever help?” I nod slowly. “Yeah.
“Okay.” He stretches out his long legs in front of us. “Then let’s talk about the basic premise.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you have better things to do with your time. Like draw. Or work on your video game.” I shrug weakly. “You don’t have to help me with my essay.”
He glances over again, oddly sheepish. “How about an exchange? I’ll help you with this midterm—the outline, the thesis. And, as you write it, I can proofread and help you organize ideas. And you help me out by…” He mumbles the rest—“Letting me draw you.”
Spending time with Summer is…a challenge. And that’s coming from me, a guy who plays hockey at the college level for a Division 1 school. I can honestly say that my grueling athletic career is a walk in the park compared to the sheer grit it takes maintaining a friendship with Summer Di Laurentis.
“I do not want.” She rifles through the hangers. “Everything you own is either black or gray. What do you have against colors, Colin? Did red bully you as a child? Did green steal your girlfriend? Black, gray, gray, black, black, oh look!
“You’re going to let me dress you for the interview, you hear me? It’s my right, now that we’re best friends.” “Best friends?” I sputter with laughter. “I agreed to no such thing.”
“You’re right,” I concede. “I can’t look like a scrub.” “I’m sorry, did you say I’m right? As in, you’re wrong?” “Yes, Summer. You’re right. I need to make a good impression.”
She unzips the bag and extracts a hanger that holds a… Gray sweater. “It’s a fucking gray sweater,” I accuse. “You know, like the one hanging five feet away from us? The one you were just criticizing?” “First of all, it’s not gray. It’s slate—” “It’s gray.” “Second of all, it’s Tom Ford—is the one in your closet Tom Ford?
“I love your tattoos,” she informs me. “Yeah?” “Uh-huh.”
She touches something on my shoulder. “Ohhh, this is so pretty. This cluster of roses.” Her impish gaze lifts to mine. “Not very manly,” she teases.
“And he thinks…” She looks like she’s going to explode with laughter. “He thinks we’re done now.” I expect Hunter to give her a blank look. But my teammate snickers at me, obviously in on the joke. “Naïve bastard.” He strides into my room and sprawls on the bed. “This is gonna be fun.” He winks at Summer. “Go get Hollis. Tell him to make some popcorn.” “On it.” She’s already hurrying out the door, yelling, “Mike!” “Traitor,” I grumble at Hunter.
The vortex grinds to a halt to reveal the short, stocky figure of Kamal Jain, and it takes serious effort to keep my jaw hinged because it turns out he’s not wearing gray and black. It’s slate and charcoal, as Summer would say. And it’s the same fucking outfit I tried on last night. The first one, which Summer advised me to forsake in favor of what I’m wearing now: dark-blue Ralph Lauren jeans, a Marc Jacobs dress shirt with no tie, and brown Gucci loafers.
Me, I prefer the bar. Means I don’t have to clean up after anyone. Plus, the beer is cheap and Friday nights they have half-price wings.
“Pink,” Hollis grumbles at her. “Just fucking say pink, Summer.” “There are different shades of pink, Mike.” “Yeah? Name ten.”
He takes a step forward and I whip both hands up in a martial arts pose. I took three months of karate when I was twelve. I can take him.
But Fitz does something to my stomach. Saying he gives me butterflies would be an under-statement. And he does something to my heart too. Damned if I can tell you what that something is, but rest assured he does it for me.
wanted Fitz from the moment I met him last year. I think those might actually be the first words I spoke to Dean’s girlfriend. I pointed at Fitz and said, “I want him.”
“I don’t.” “So I’m special.” “Very much so.”
Summer nods. She stands on her tiptoes, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and then she’s gone.
Tuck sighs. “She’s such a little attention seeker.” “Aw, I don’t mind.” I hold out my arms, and the six-month-old practically somersaults into them. “She’s gotten so big, man.”
Jamie wiggles happily in my arms, her chubby hands instantly seeking out the stubble on my face. She loves textures and is fascinated by colors. The last time I saw her, she was in total awe of my tats.
“Shouldn’t she be asleep?” “I was getting ready to feed her. Actually, she was screaming her lungs out about thirty seconds before you got here. She literally just settled.” “Liar. This beautiful angel could never scream her lungs out,”
It’s her orbit—you get sucked into it.” “And that’s bad because?” Because I’ve never been so drawn to anyone and it kind of scares the shit out of me.
“I’m in her orbit, man,” I mumble into my palms. He chuckles. “So whatcha gonna do about it?” I lift my head. “I have no fucking idea.”
“And some fool around with me and then pretend it never happened.” He halts about five feet from our cars. “I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.” “No? So you’re avoiding me for no reason, then? Just for funsies?” Gritting my teeth, I bulldoze past him. He catches up to me as I reach the Audi. “Summer. Come on. Wait.” “Wait for what?” I snap. “For you to decide that I’m worthy of your time and attention?” His brown eyes widen. “What—” “Isn’t that what it boils down to?” I cut in, bitterness staining my tone. “I’m not someone you want to spend time with.” “That’s not true.”
and start singing along to One Direction’s “No Control.” I’m still humming the same song ten minutes later on the way to the dean’s offices. Man, why did 1D ever break up? They were so frigging magical. “Get back together already,” I moan, at the same time that a dark- haired girl rounds the hall corner. She jumps in surprise. “Sorry, what?” I wave my hand flippantly. “I was talking to 1D. They need to get back together.” She shakes her head, visibly saddened. “I know. It’s heartbreaking.” As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the day—hell, the rest of my life—discussing the huge hole that
...more
“Cool. I’ll pick you up at your place.” Another laugh pops out. “That was so lame.” “I know.” He chuckles. “Should we leave around seven?”
“Sweetie!” She sounds overjoyed. “You caught me at a good time. I just got out of a meeting.” “I’m having man problems!” I blurt out. There’s a second of silence, and then, “Okay, baby. Hit me.”
“Hunter.” “No. Fitz.” “Fizz?” “Fitz!” I sputter. “Colin Fitzgerald. Mom, keep up.” “Sorry, Summer, but maybe I’d have an easier time keeping up if your love life wasn’t like an episode of The Bachelor.” “The Bachelorette,” I correct. “Okay. Pay attention. Hunter is the one I’m having dinner with tonight. Fitz is the one I kissed.” “I see. And you have feelings for both of them?” “Yes?”
Besides, it’s not a matter of liking. Half the time I’m not sure I even like Fitz. He drives me bananas most of the time. But I’m drawn to him, and he’s on my mind constantly, a lot more than Hunter is. In all honesty, I wouldn’t be considering going out with Hunter if Fitz came up to me and said, “Let’s do this.” But Fitz isn’t saying that. He isn’t saying anything, except that he’s “bad at expressing feelings” and “not good at this shit.”
I’m still debating it when Hunter calls out from downstairs that he’s warming up the car. And I’m still debating it when Fitz enters my bedroom without knocking and levels me with two husky words. “Don’t go.”
“How long was I asleep for?” “Not long. It’s barely eight.” “You left thirty minutes ago.” There’s a lot of confusion in that statement. “Yes.” “And now you’re back.” “Yes.” “Why?” I close the door and then approach the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure yet.
I swallow. “Are you as tired of fighting this attraction between us as I am?” “Yes. I am.” Pure need.
“I hate you, you know that?” “No you don’t.”
