The front door opened, and her parents’ chatter floated down the hall. Amy told herself to breathe. Her parents knew who Toff was—everyone did because of his local surfing fame, even though her parents usually skipped the competitions. Plus, they’d gone to school together forever.
To her surprise, he stood up from his stool, smoothing his hair and brushing crumbs off his shirt. Did he actually care about making a good impression on her parents? She found that hard to believe.
“That traffic was ridiculous!” Mom exclaimed. “It’s not worth driving all the way to—” Her voice broke off when she spotted Toff. Dad was close behind her, carrying a box. Amy opened her mouth to introduce Toff, but he beat her to it.
“Hi, Mrs. McIntyre,” Toff said, stepping forward to take the canvas grocery bags from her mom. “I’m Toff. Let me help you with those.”
Mom slowly handed them over, shooting Amy a “what’s-going-on?” look. Dad set his box on the kitchen table and studied Toff like he was trying to place him. At least he didn’t look upset that she had a guy in the house while they were gone.
“Mom, Dad, you remember Toff Nichols from, uh, school and stuff. He came over for lunch because I, uh, needed to…um—”
“Wait a sec,” her dad said, running his hand over his scruffy red beard. “You’re the Cupcake Kid! I remember you.”
Oh no. No, no, no. Dad couldn’t tell that story. He couldn’t. Amy wished she could transform into The Wasp like in Brayden’s favorite movie. She’d fly across the room and sting her dad. So what if he was allergic?
Mom shared a laugh with Dad, while Toff turned to Amy, bewildered.
She’d been so close—so freaking close to surviving Toff’s unexpected visit without major mortification, except for Brayden. And asking for a swagger coach. But now her parents had shown up and were about to ruin everything.
“Um, it was a long time ago,” she said, focusing on Toff’s T-shirt instead of his face. “I’m sure you don’t remember.”
“Remember what?” He sounded anxious.
Would it be rude to ask him to leave? Immediately? To save both of them from humiliation? She bit her lip and glanced at him. Nope, he definitely had no memory of attending her tenth birthday party, the one and only time she’d invited him to an event.
“Amy’s birthday party,” Dad said, grinning at Toff like Of course you remember that, right, kid? “Ninth? Or was it your tenth?”
“Tenth. When you ate all the cupcakes,” Mom added helpfully, making Amy groan out loud.
“I…did?” Toff looked baffled and slightly embarrassed. That was a new look for him. Amy kind of liked it.
“Oh yeah. It was a minor catastrophe,” Dad said, on a roll now. “When it was time for the ‘Happy Birthday’ song, Emily—”
“That’s me, Mrs. McIntyre,” Mom said, shooting Dad a reproving look.
Amy rolled her eyes. Her parents were so old-fashioned about that stuff. Well, her mom was. Her dad wasn’t as bad.
“Right, right,” Dad said, waving off Mom’s correction. “So my wife found you in the kitchen—with Brayden, I think—eating all the cupcakes.” He cracked up again, and Mom smiled at Toff like he was still ten years old. And busted.
“He didn’t eat all of them,” Amy piped up, mortified for Toff—and herself. She stole another peek at him. Holy wow. She’d definitely never seen that face, and she’d mentally cataloged all his expressions for years. He was definitely wishing he’d escaped when he had the chance.
“So, um, then what happened?” Toff asked, sounding almost shell-shocked.
Dad shrugged. “Fortunately we had a bunch of candy for the rest of the kids.”
“There were two cupcakes left,” Mom added. “Thank goodness, because Amy bawled her head off when she saw what you’d done. We put a candle in one cupcake and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to distract her.”
“And I ate the last cupcake,” Dad chimed in, “since I was the one who made them.” He grinned at Toff. “I figured I deserved it.”
“Amy didn’t invite you to any more of her parties,” Mom said, shooting her a not-so-subtle wink. “But I guess she’s finally forgiven you if she fed you lunch today.”
“I…I… Wow. Shi— I mean, um—” Toff ducked his head and tugged at his hair, his neck blotching red. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that at all.”
“What are you two up to today?” Dad asked. His expression was way too interested. She cringed, dreading where this was going. She shouldn’t be surprised, though, considering Dad’s guilty pleasure was watching The Bachelor.
Amy squeezed her eyes shut and willed her brother to set off the burglar alarm, or the fire alarm, or something to save Toff from further humiliation.
Wait a minute.
She could end this. She didn’t need a Brayden disaster distraction. She could rescue Toff instead of letting him circle the drain of desperation while her parents watched.
“Toff needs to leave,” Amy said, gathering her courage and taking his hand in hers. “He’s already running late for a—a—somewhere he has to be.”
She tugged at his hand. He blinked at her, then at their joined hands.
“Uh, yeah, I… Right.” He cleared his throat and glanced at her dad. “It was nice to meet—I mean—see you again.” His smile was crooked with embarrassment. “Sorry about the cupcakes. I promise it won’t happen again.”
She squeezed his hand and dragged him past her parents toward the front door, ignoring their wide-eyed gawking. Her heart clanged around her chest, and her palm was sweaty in his, but she didn’t care. She needed to escape as much as he did.
Once outside, she released his hand and hurried toward his van parked on the shoulder of the road.
“I am so sorry,” she mumbled, not looking at him when he joined her at the van. “I had no idea they’d bring that up.”
Her gaze roved over the van while she waited for him to speak. It was straight out of a surf movie, a classic seventies Volkswagen van, icy blue with white trim. A couple of surfboards were strapped to the roof rack. Stickers from surf competitions and beaches up and down the coast dotted the side panels.
Toff opened the sliding side door. He leaned in, and she heard cans rattling. He emerged holding an energy drink. “Want one?”
She shook her head, nervously chewing her bottom lip. Was he still embarrassed? Mad? His blush had faded, but he wasn’t smiling. He snapped open the can and chugged, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
This was her cue to leave. She turned away, ready to flee to her house, which she would never leave again, for real this time.
“Ames, wait.”
Slowly, she turned back to him, surprised at how deflated he looked. He leaned against his van, brushing hair out of his eyes, scowling.
“A heads-up would’ve been nice. That I, like, ruined your birthday. Made you cry.” He shot her a frustrated look. The realest one she’d seen from him, ever. She took a tentative step forward, then another. Of all the things he’d said to her during their brief, bizarre, fake-not-fake relationship, this was by far the sweetest.
“I was ten years old. It’s no big deal.” She took another step closer, smiling with encouragement like he was a skittish dog—a gorgeous skittish show dog with trust issues. “It’s a funny story.” They stood toe to toe. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. He met her gaze, still frustrated. Still embarrassed. “I wish I had a picture from that day. You had chocolate frosting all over your face. So did Brayden.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
“I bet it was Brayden’s idea,” she said. “He probably conned you into it, even though he was only three and you were ten.”
His ghost of a smile took solid shape, filling in. Lighting up.
“I can’t believe I don’t remember your party,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well, you were Mr. Popular, even back then. It was probably one of many parties you went to that weekend. I’m sure it’s all a blur of pin the tail on the donkey and cupcakes.”
His grin blasted her at full wattage. He straightened, stepping away from the van, their bodies separated by centimeters. Or was that a millimeter? Amy couldn’t breathe, and she was out of funny comebacks.
“I have a lot to make up for,” Toff said, his voice low and rumbly. “I’ll text you tomorrow, and we’ll figure out a game plan for your coaching lesson.”
She nodded, sneaking a peek at him. He didn’t look deflated anymore. Or embarrassed.
“Thanks for the escape from your parents,” he said. “Make sure they know Brayden ate the rest of those cookies today, not me.” He chuckled as he got into his van and slowly pulled away, flipping her a peace sign.
Amy watched his van disappear down the hill. That had felt like actual flirting when they ate lunch. Had he meant it, or was that his default setting?
She turned back to the house. She needed a major de-stress knitting session to recover from her time with the Cupcake Kid, aka Clyde, aka Coach.
What had she gotten herself into?
…
Toff: Hey, Wordworm—did I really eat all the cupcakes at Amy’s bday party when we were kids? And make her cry?
Viv: You did, dork. We need to talk more about THE WEDDING! Are you sure you aren’t freaking out that you’re going to be related to me?
Viv: Flipper?
Viv: Flipper?? Why’d you ask about the cupcakes??
Viv: You can’t ignore your future sister forever. You know where to find me, and McNerd knows where to find you, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Show us your #OTP, your favorite #SHIP, and tell us WHY! Make sure to tag @HeartRacerChallenge2 if you want eyeballs on your entries! Post by June 16!
Amy sat at an outside table at The Bean, drinking a melty mocha that was no longer iced, rereading her One True Pair post for the big contest. She chewed her thumbnail, worried her idea was cliché. Everyone loved Pride and Prejudice. She had nothing new to say about her beloved Lizzie Bennet and Mr. Darcy.
Why even try?
Viv had read her piece and said it was good, which was code for “it could be better.” She knew Viv had suggestions for improvement, but she didn’t ask for them, since Viv and Dallas were driving up the coast for some fancy anniversary dinner tonight. Must be nice, Amy thought, having a modern-day Mr. Darcy plan a perfect date night.
She gave herself a mental shake. That wasn’t fair. She was thrilled for Viv and Dallas. She was just…lonely. And suffering from a creative block.
Exhaling a defeated sigh, her attention wandered to the busy street. The tourists were out in force today, meandering in and out of Main Street’s shops and cafés. Lots of people stopped to photograph her yarn-bombed bench. Amy stood and stretched. She could use a distraction.
“Hi.” She approached a family of four snapping bench photos with the mom’s cell phone. “Want me to take a picture of all of you?”
The mom beamed. “Thank you! This bench is so adorable! We have to get photos.”
Amy tingled with pride as she took photos of the laughing family.
“Do you know who did this?” asked the mom. “Was it someone local?”
“Yes,” Amy said, blushing.
“Oh, wonderful! Please tell them what a wonderful job they did. I hope the police don’t remove it.”
Amy bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’ll pass along your compliment. I think the sheriff’s office is okay with it.”
She’d called them yesterday, disguising her voice to ask about the bench, and had been told the artwork would stay because it didn’t damage anything and got so much positive feedback from the community.
All that panic with Toff had been for nothing. Well…not nothing. It had led to him being her contest coach. And unrealistic daydreams about spending more time with him…in his van.
The bench-loving family waved goodbye, and Amy noticed how the dad held the mom’s hand, even though they were sort of old. She let out a happy sigh. She was a Romantic with a capital R, which was ironic considering she hadn’t had a boyfriend since sophomore year, and that guy had been sorely lacking in the romance department.
She returned to her bistro table and flipped through her sketchbook. She always handwrote her book reviews before typing them up for Viv’s blog. She liked experimenting with different lettering styles and doodling in the margins. Today she’d drawn Mr. Darcy’s haughty face at the country ball where he first meets Lizzie and Lizzie gives him the stink eye. Much as she liked her drawings, she still felt stuck, unable to adequately express her love for P&P, her forever OTP.
“Just do it,” she muttered out loud. Isn’t that what the sports commercials said? It was probably exactly what her coach would tell her. Reluctantly, she pulled up the contacts on her phone, typed in “Thor,” and opened a text window.
It was a dumb nickname for Toff, but she’d chosen it after watching the first Thor movie when she was only twelve because of Chris Hemsworth’s hair, which was sort of like Toff’s.
Unlike her text window with Viv, which had years of texting history, the Thor window was blank. But that was about to change.
“No time like the present.”
Hey, Coach. I need your advice.
She waited for the reply dots. Nothing. He was probably still asleep. Or surfing. Maybe he’d changed his mind—
Her phone rang, and she stared at it in shock. Who called instead of texted? Coach Thor, apparently.
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
“What’s up, grommet?” She heard the teasing grin in his voice and reminded herself to be chill—to try out Swagger Amy.
“If you’re going to call me grommet,” she said, “this isn’t going to work.”
“How about Li’l G?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to ignore that. Why’d you call instead of text?”
“Your text sounded like an emergency.”
“Did you see a 911? ‘I need your advice’ does not equal an emergency.”
Wow. Swagger Amy was a badass. Too bad she only showed up for texts and calls but not in person.
“Want me to hang up and text you now?” His grin was at maximum wattage—she could hear it in his voice. She also heard lots of background noise.
“Are you at the beach?”
“Yeah, but I’m done for the day.” He hesitated. “I’m starving. Wanna make me a sandwich? You can have all the advice you want if you feed me.”
“I’m at The Bean.”
“Cool. You can buy me a sandwich instead.”
She puffed up with annoyance. Why did he—?
“I can see your angry eyes from two miles away. I was kidding, Ames. I’ll buy my own lunch.” He paused, and she heard a glugging sound, like he was chugging water. “We need to work on your sense of humor.”
That was a low blow. “I am a very funny person!”
He laughed again, making her want to throttle him.
“See you in ten, grommet.”
He disconnected before she could clap back.
…
“Thanks, Lynette. See you around.”
“I hope so. You know where to find me.”
Toff took the foot-long sub sandwich from the girl who’d added extra cheese and meat at no charge. He got that type of special treatment a lot. He knew why it happened, but sometimes he felt guilty. Guilty but not too guilty.
When Amy had texted him, he hadn’t realized at first that it was her, because there was no name attached to the number. He was surprised he’d never texted her, since she was part of Viv’s posse. He’d added her as a contact after ending the call, except he wasn’t sure how to spell her last
name so he’d used Amy MacAttack.
Toff joined Amy outside, sliding an iced mocha across the table.
“For me?”
He nodded toward her empty glass. “Gotta have fuel to work with your coach.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Why did she look surprised? Was it so unbelievable he’d do something nice? He still felt weirdly awkward about their ate-all-the-cupcakes-and-ruined-your-party history, but he was also the guy who’d saved her from the clinker.
Frowning, he tore open the sandwich wrapper and dug in. He needed fuel, too, after ripping it all morning. The waves were choppy, scaring away some of the tourists, which made him happy. He tried not to lash out at newbies, but it got old, having to watch out for kooks who didn’t know what they were doing. He and his friends had their favorite hidden surf spots, but people kept finding them.
The sun was finally shining after a typical morning of coastal fog. Toff scooted his chair outside of the sun umbrella’s shade and unzipped his hoodie, exposing his bare chest. He tilted his chair back, closed his eyes, and let the sun warm him.
At the sound of choking, his eyes flew open. Across the table, Amy coughed and wheezed, waving her hand in front of her face, which was tomato-red.
“Wrong pipe?” he asked, and she nodded, her eyes teary.
“Water?”
She shook her head.
He resumed devouring his sandwich, keeping an eye on her in case he had to do the Heimlich. Eventually she stopped, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat. She drank from her iced mocha and gave him a wobbly smile.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded froggy.
“You sure?”
Amy nodded and sipped from her mocha again. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, crumpled up the wrapper and napkins, and tossed them into a nearby trash can. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Ready to be coached by the best?”
She glanced around, her forehead pinched like she was confused. “Sure, but I thought I was being coached by you.”
When her jab registered, Toff acknowledged it with an appreciative grin. He was right about spending more time with sparky Amy—this was gonna be fun.
The Bookworm Crush Page 7