The Boyfriend Project

by Rachel Hawthorne

  Dedication

  For every girl who has known the scary, confusing, wonderful,

  thrilling adventure of falling in love . . .

  And for every girl who hasn’t yet, but one day will . . .

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Kendall

  Chapter 2: Jeremy

  Chapter 3: Kendall

  Chapter 4: Jeremy

  Chapter 5: Kendall

  Chapter 6: Jeremy

  Chapter 7: Kendall

  Chapter 8: Jeremy

  Chapter 9: Kendall

  Chapter 10: Jeremy

  Chapter 11: Kendall

  Chapter 12: Jeremy

  Chapter 13: Kendall

  Chapter 14: Jeremy

  Chapter 15: Kendall

  Chapter 16: Jeremy

  Chapter 17: Kendall

  Chapter 18: Jeremy

  Chapter 19: Kendall

  Chapter 20: Jeremy

  Chapter 21: Kendall

  Chapter 22: Jeremy

  Chapter 23: Kendall

  Chapter 24: Jeremy

  Chapter 25: Kendall

  Chapter 26: Jeremy

  Chapter 27: Kendall

  Chapter 28: Jeremy

  Chapter 29: Kendall

  Chapter 30: Jeremy

  Chapter 31: Kendall

  Chapter 32: Jeremy

  Chapter 33: Kendall

  Chapter 34: Jeremy

  Chapter 35: Kendall

  Chapter 36: Jeremy

  Chapter 37: Kendall

  Chapter 38: Jeremy

  Chapter 39: Kendall

  Chapter 40: Jeremy

  Chapter 41: Kendall

  Chapter 42: Jeremy

  Chapter 43: Kendall

  Chapter 44: Jeremy

  Chapter 45: Kendall

  Chapter 46: Jeremy

  Chapter 47: Kendall

  Excerpt from Trouble from the Start

  Back Ads

  About the Author

  Books by Rachel Hawthorne

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  KENDALL

  I loved Jeremy Swanson.

  I loved his long, slow kisses, his dimpled smile. I loved the way one of his hands always came to rest on the small of my back when we walked.

  “I love you, Kendall,” he whispered breathlessly as he trailed his mouth along my neck before returning it to my lips for another searing kiss.

  I loved that most of all. That he loved me, quirks included.

  We were doing our contortionist impression, as we struggled to find a comfortable position in the cramped backseat of his car that was quickly turning into a sauna. Because of all the mosquitoes, we had the windows rolled up. Because of the price of gas, the car wasn’t running, the air conditioner wasn’t blowing.

  But neither of us cared about the discomforts. We were together. That was all that mattered.

  Jeremy shifted, lost his precarious perch on the edge of the seat and, with a yelp, tumbled the few inches to the floor.

  I laughed, held up a hand. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said, moaning as he shoved himself into a sitting position. “I don’t know why my parents had to get me such a small car for a graduation present.”

  “Probably because they knew this is what you’d be doing with it.”

  He grinned. The shadows stopped me from seeing the little dimple that I knew had formed in his left cheek. “Probably. Dad worries that I’ll do something stupid before I even get to college.”

  “Like fall in love,” I teased.

  He leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve done so far.”

  He tried to get up but he was wedged between the front seat and the back. “This is ridiculous. I’m glad you love me. These moves wouldn’t impress a date.”

  I placed my hand against his cheek, leaned in, and let my mouth play over his. “Your moves impress me.”

  They always had. We’d been together for nearly four months, longer if I counted the friendship phase that had begun at the start of our senior year just after his family moved to town. Over spring break when my best friend, Avery Watkins, hadn’t been able to go to a movie with us, Jeremy had kissed me for the first time. It had been a sweet kiss, a tentative brushing of his lips over mine as though he were afraid I’d take offense and slap him or something. I hadn’t taken offense. Instead I’d moved in to welcome his advance. He’d taken the kiss deeper and I’d fallen hard.

  Now, without breaking off the kiss, he tried to smoothly get back onto the seat. He grunted, shifted, pulled away, and sighed. “I’m stuck.”

  Ruffling my fingers through his short, blond hair, I laughed again. “And I intend to take advantage of that.”

  I kissed him again. He cupped my face, his thumb stroking the underside of my chin where the skin was soft and sensitive. Shivers went through me. He skipped his tongue over my lips before slipping it inside to dance with mine. He always took his time. He always went slow.

  Sometimes slower than I wanted.

  I tugged his shirt out of his jeans, glided my hand beneath the soft material, and skimmed my palm up his back. He groaned low, began pushing himself up—

  “Oh, God! Oh, God! My back’s cramping.” His hand flew to his side, his head reared back.

  “Okay, hold on.” I opened the door and clambered out of the car, trying to give him more room to maneuver. I pulled on his legs. He really was wedged in there. We’d already moved the seats up as far as they would go. “Here, take my hand.”

  Finally he was able to shift slightly so he could crawl backward out of the car. Arching with his hands pressed to his spine, he paced back and forth several times. With a look of contrition, he finally straightened and laughed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “That car has got to go.”

  Although it was relatively new, it was the unsexiest thing I’d ever seen and looked like something my grandmother would drive to church. Walking over to him, I flattened my palms against his chest. “Maybe you could trade it in for a motorcycle.”

  “Where would we make out?”

  Good question. I’d have to talk to Avery about that. She pretty much became a motorcycle expert when she started dating Fletcher Thomas.

  I heard the beep of an incoming text on my phone. I opened the front door, reached in, and grabbed my phone from where it rested on the console. Speak of the devil.

  Avery:

  Going to B.S. Meet us?

  I almost said no but I was tired of the cramped backseat. I looked over my shoulder. “Want to meet Avery and Fletcher at the Burger Shack?”

  “Guess I kinda ruined the mood with my old guy, back-out-of-whack impersonation.”

  “It’s more the heat.” I slapped at a mosquito. “The bugs. And I’m a little hungry.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He slammed the back door while I slid into the passenger seat. Then he closed my door before jogging around and slipping behind the wheel.

  He started off, slow and careful, backing away from the lake until we reached the road. I didn’t look to see what other cars were out there. This area was pretty much make-out central, but couples deserved their privacy.

  “You know,” he began, “you don’t have to say Avery and Fletcher. If it’s Avery, I assume it’s Fletcher, too, now.”

  Avery and Fletcher had started dating seriously just a few weeks ago. “I’m so glad she got a boyfriend,” I said. “I think she was starting to get a little uncomfortable hanging around with us all the time.” She’d been my best friend forever and Jeremy had always been good about inviting her to go places with us. I loved how considerate he was, but I had
to admit it was nice that Jeremy and I had more time alone now.

  “The right boyfriend.” Jeremy cast a quick glance my way. “You didn’t just want a boyfriend, did you? You wanted the right one.”

  “Totally.” Reaching across the console, I touched his arm. “And you’re the right one for me. That’s what I wanted for Avery. Just didn’t expect the right one to be him.” Fletcher had a bad-boy reputation, had needed to take a summer class to graduate from high school. Avery was all smarts, ranked third in our class, and nearly always followed the rules. The ones she broke were harmless.

  “I like him,” Jeremy said.

  “He’s a lot different than I thought.” I knew Fletcher as a tough guy who often came to school looking like he’d been in a brawl. After getting to know him, though, I realized how sweet he could be—at least where Avery was concerned. The guy would do anything for her.

  Jeremy pulled into the B.S. parking lot, came around, and opened the car door for me. It had taken me a while to get used to him doing that. I’d never had anyone open the door for me, but his dad had taught him to be courteous. It was a little old-fashioned, but I liked it. When we got to the front door of the restaurant, he held it open while I walked through.

  Avery wasn’t here yet, so we settled in a booth near the back by the window so we had a view of the parking lot. We’d barely sat down, when I saw a motorcycle with two people on it roar into the lot. My heart skipped a beat at the recklessness. Jeremy would never take a risk like that. He was sure and steady—just like me. But I couldn’t help thinking about the thrill of the ride, noticing how brightly Avery was smiling as she got off the bike. Joy and happiness radiated off her.

  “Is that why you suggested I trade in my car for a motorcycle?” Jeremy asked.

  I’d been so absorbed watching them that I jerked with a little guilt at Jeremy’s question. “It just looks like it would be fun, doesn’t it?”

  “A car is more practical. What do they do if they have to haul a bunch of stuff?”

  Turning slightly, I looked at Jeremy with his conservative haircut. I put my hand over his, and he immediately turned his palm up and threaded our fingers together. I didn’t know why our mode of transportation was suddenly nagging at me. “But it would be exciting.”

  “As long as you don’t smile while you’re whipping along and get bugs between your teeth.”

  “I’ve never seen Fletcher with bugs.”

  “He doesn’t smile all that much, either.”

  “True.” Leaning in, I gave him a quick kiss. “And I love your smile.”

  “Love yours, too. Bet I wouldn’t see it at all if we got caught in a rainstorm while riding that thing. We’d be like drowned cats.”

  “I hadn’t considered that. It’s not very practical, is it?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to give up on the thrill of having one. “Good gas mileage, maybe?”

  “Drowned cat,” he repeated.

  “Maybe we’re being too practical.” And boring.

  Hearing the door open, I looked back. Avery was walking in, Fletcher right on her heels. I couldn’t be sure but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d opened the door for herself. Fletcher was not as polite as Jeremy, not that Avery seemed to mind. She slid into the booth, sitting across from me.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, smiling brightly.

  Dropping onto the bench seat, Fletcher immediately put his arm around her shoulders and acknowledged us with a nod. Fletcher Thomas was a guy of few words.

  “What were you up to?” Avery asked.

  I felt myself grow warm, knew I was blushing. “Nothing special.”

  Fletcher studied me, shifted his gaze to Jeremy, and hitched up a corner of his mouth. I figured he knew exactly what we’d been doing.

  “We were down by the lake,” Jeremy said, and I wondered if I’d wounded his pride, if he felt a need to prove something with Fletcher around.

  “Skinny-dipping?” Fletcher asked, a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

  “Absolutely not,” I said with conviction. I gave Avery a pointed look meant to convey the question: Have you skinny-dipped?

  Laughing, she rubbed his arm. “He’s always trying to talk me into trying it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Fletcher assured us.

  “Fish nibbling at things I don’t want them nibbling at,” Jeremy said.

  I loved that he considered all the ramifications of his actions. Which was one of the reasons he’d make a good lawyer. And one of the reasons that he hadn’t quite landed safely on second base yet. He put his hands under my shirt, but he never moved past my lower ribs. Limiting temptation and showing respect for me.

  That’s how he had explained it the night I thought we’d be going further, possibly even all the way. I’d told my mom that I was sleeping over at Avery’s and instead had spent the entire night with Jeremy. We’d checked into a motel at the edge of town, walked into our room, and watched a roach crawl across the wall.

  “This is not what I want for our first time,” he’d told me.

  It hadn’t been what I wanted, either. We were both virgins . . . and too broke to afford anything nicer. So we’d left, driven to the lake, spent the night in his car talking about what our first time would be like. And he’d told me that he had too much respect for me not to make sure that it was special. That he knew I loved him and we didn’t have to have sex to prove that.

  I knew our first time was going to be awesome, but until then, all I could do was admire his control. I always knew exactly where we stood, what to expect. No surprises.

  Although as my mom was fond of saying: “Life without surprises is kind of boring.”

  “Never found fish to be an issue,” Fletcher said now, bringing my thoughts back to the present.

  “You’ve really gone skinny-dipping?” I asked.

  Fletcher lifted a broad shoulder, moved a saltshaker to the center of the table for no apparent reason. “Sure. You should try it sometime. Seriously.”

  I stared at the shaker he’d abandoned, moved it back where it belonged, before answering in a way that wouldn’t make me seem like a prude. “We’ll think about it. Now what do we want to eat?”

  Avery and I told the guys what we wanted. They headed to the counter to place our orders. Leaning forward, I held Avery’s blue gaze. “Don’t take this wrong, but I’m still having a difficult time seeing you two together.”

  “Maybe you need glasses,” she said, a teasing tone to her voice.

  “What?”

  “If you can’t see us.”

  Avery only responded to the literal meaning of what I said when she was bothered by what I was trying to say, so I knew I’d hit on something that upset her. I probably wasn’t the only one who thought she and Fletcher were an odd match. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” I assured her. “It’s just that you’re so opposite.”

  “Not as much as you think. But that’s what makes it fun.”

  I looked toward the counter. I’d never seen Fletcher in anything except a black T-shirt that looked like it had shrunk in the wash. Even after our session in the car, Jeremy’s light-blue shirt was barely wrinkled. “Do you think we’re boring?”

  “What? No.” Avery touched my arm, brought my attention back to her. “What brought that on?”

  “You’ve gone skinny-dipping, haven’t you?”

  “No.” She took a sugar packet and tapped it repeatedly as though she was trying to stir up her answer. “Although I probably will before summer’s over—or maybe once Fletcher and I get to Austin.”

  “You’ve changed since you got together with him,” I said.

  “A little, I guess. Don’t you think you’ve changed since you started dating Jeremy?”

  “Not really. We’re the same as we were when it was just the three of us hanging together.”

  “You’re cute together.”

  Inwardly I cringed. “Cute” sounded l
ike we were in elementary school or something.

  Two girls got in the line and immediately started talking to Fletcher. His shadowed jaw made him look older, more dangerous. He’d always drawn girls’ attention. Jeremy, who had shaved before he picked me up, stood there trying not to look awkward, because they were ignoring him.

  “What’s wrong?” Avery asked.

  “Those girls.” I bit on my lower lip. “It’s stupid, but it bothers me that they aren’t talking to Jeremy. Like maybe they don’t think they could be into him.” I shook my head. “See, that is so shallow and stupid. I don’t want to be jealous, but I wouldn’t mind if girls were jealous of me.” Because if they were, then I’d know that they knew I had a terrific guy. I didn’t know why I needed that validation.

  “I was,” Avery said quickly. “Jealous of you. Before I had Fletcher. I know that’s awful because you’re my best friend, but for a long time I wished that Jeremy had wanted to be my boyfriend instead of yours. I mean, the three of us hung out together. What was wrong with me that he didn’t choose me?”

  “Nothing was wrong with you,” I reassured her. Then I added, “But I didn’t know you wanted him for a boyfriend.”

  “Now I can see that we wouldn’t have been right together, but I would have said yes in a heartbeat if he’d asked me out. He’s so nice.”

  He was nice. But was he too nice?

  The guys returned to the table. Avery dropped that bag of sugar. I snatched it up and placed it back into its holder, noticed a yellow packet mixed in with the blue ones, plucked it out, and inserted it in its proper place. Then I smiled at Jeremy—a little guiltily because we’d been talking about him—as he set a cheeseburger and shake in front of me, and a basket of fries between us.

  “Thanks.” He knew exactly how I liked my burger and he didn’t mind ordering it medium well, with a slice of cheese on top and a slice on the bottom, pickle, and tomato that wasn’t from the ends. Mustard on the bottom of the bun, mayo on the top, and the B. S. special sauce on top of the mayo. My mom always made me order my own burger. She was embarrassed that I couldn’t just order a burger by calling out a number or saying all the way. But I was particular. What was wrong with that? I knew what I wanted.

  Avery and Fletcher had cheeseburgers, too, but they were sharing a basket of onion rings. I carefully unwrapped my burger, peered beneath the top bun to see everything exactly as I liked it, and bit into it.