Challenge Accepted

by Amanda Abram

  He turned the page. “Alison Dodge. He liked her because she had red hair and freckles and that made her unique. Melissa Grimes, she was peppy and always so positive about everything. It was annoying to me, but Matt ate it up. I think all that positivity just made him feel good. Jenny Livingston, he liked her because she was good at…” His voice trailed off as his lips formed into a slight smirk. “Well, I’ll let you use your imagination on that one.”

  A feeling of unease washed over me as Logan continued to point out girl after girl. I knew Matt had dated a lot of girls, but I’d never actually counted. By the time Logan was done with our class alone, the count was at twenty. Before he could go onto the upper or lower classmen, I grabbed the book from him and closed it.

  “Hey, we were just getting started,” Logan protested. I knew he could tell I was greatly disturbed by Matt’s eclectic taste in girls, and I also knew how much he was enjoying my misery.

  None of the girls Logan pointed out were shy nerds or geeks, like me. Maybe that should have given me hope—like maybe I could be his first in that category—but it didn’t. Suddenly, I wanted nothing to do with any of this anymore.

  Tossing the yearbook onto the bed behind me, I stood and said, “I’m going home.”

  I moved to leave but Logan’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, stopping me.

  “Wait,” he said. “Don’t leave. I wasn’t trying to discourage you, you know.”

  He almost sounded sincere. “Well, you did anyway. I get it, okay? I’m not Matt’s type and you’d be wasting your time trying to turn me into a girl who is. All I learned from this is apparently to get Matt to notice me, I need to grow bigger boobs, start smoking, dye my hair, pretend everything is wonderful, and become a pro at certain physical activities I’ve never done before, because I’ve never even kissed anyone.” When I realized my embarrassing admission, I cringed, waiting for Logan to make some smartass comment.

  But surprisingly, he didn’t. Instead, he looked like he felt sorry for me. Like he pitied me. That was even worse.

  “Go ahead, make fun of me. You know you want to.”

  “I wasn’t going to make fun of you,” he said, his voice sincere. He let go of my hand, got up, went back over to his computer desk, and grabbed a notebook. “So, what? You’ve never kissed anyone. That’s easy enough to fix.”

  I snorted. “How so?”

  He took a step forward so that we were only a few inches apart. He lowered his gaze to my lips. “I could kiss you right here, right now, and then you wouldn’t be able to say you’ve never kiss anyone anymore.”

  At his words, my mouth went dry as my heart leapt up into my throat. His sudden proximity, mixed with the spicy scent of what I assumed was his aftershave, made me lightheaded. I would have pushed him away if I hadn’t completely frozen in place.

  “But I won’t,” he continued, backing away. “I’m guessing you’re saving that kiss for somebody special, but Emma, a word of advice? Maybe try to get that first kiss out of the way before you get with Matt.”

  I swallowed hard as my pulse began to slow to a normal speed. “Why is that?”

  He returned to his bed, sat down and opened the notebook. “Because Matt has kissed a lot of girls, and he’ll be able to tell right away how inexperienced you are. And believe me when I tell you, Matt has no interest in being anybody’s first anymore—and that goes for everything.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was referring to. Feeling deflated, I plopped down into his computer chair, rested my elbows on my knees, and cradled my face in my hands.

  “Hey,” Logan said. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out the kissing thing later, alright? Right now, we’ve got other things to discuss.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what we’re going to do this summer.”

  I removed my face from my hands and eyed him warily. “Logan, why are you so interested in helping me with all this? It’s summer vacation. You should be spending all your time with your friends, not me. You hate me, remember?”

  Logan stared down at the notebook in his hands. “Hate’s an awfully strong word, Emma.”

  “But it fits, doesn’t it?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Okay, so we’ve never exactly been friends. And I’ve always thought you were a know-it-all goody-two-shoes with an irritating voice—” He stopped for a second when I threw him a glare. “But maybe it’s time we grow up and be adults. Aren’t you tired of hating me for no reason?”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Are you kidding me, Logan? I have all the reasons in the world to hate you. For starters, I hate you for calling me a know-it-all goody-two-shoes with an irritating voice. And I hate you for lying on that compatibility test and ruining my chances of having a genuine summer romance with somebody I wouldn’t have to change myself for.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re doing this. I’m trying to make that up to you.”

  “By telling me my wardrobe sucks and my personality sucks and I need to change everything about myself to get a guy to like me? Geez, thanks, Logan. How can I ever repay you?”

  Logan held out his hands in surrender. “Okay, let’s stop for a moment, alright? Emma, I never said you had to change everything about yourself to get a guy to like you. I said you’d have to do that to get Matt to like you. I’ll help you get whatever guy you want. We can go sit outside the library tomorrow and snag you a boyfriend within an hour, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  He leaned forward and held my gaze. “But Emma, this isn’t just about getting Matt to like you. This is about getting yourself to loosen up and live a little. This is about not having to rely on lame compatibility tests to find a boyfriend for you.” He paused for a moment, as if deciding whether he should continue. Finally, he said, “Can I be perfectly honest with you?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be, but I nodded anyway.

  “There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” he said. “You’re tall, you’re literally girl-next-door pretty, and you’ve got a nice figure that you unfortunately hide underneath unnecessary layers of clothing. Honestly, you’re kind of hot—like sexy librarian hot.”

  I could feel my face starting to burn at his words. I had no idea that I could be considered anywhere near “hot”, especially to somebody like Logan Reynolds.

  “And when you blush like that, it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. What was going on here? Logan was being uncharacteristically nice to me and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. And he wasn’t just being nice, he was also bordering on flirtatious.

  He must’ve sensed my discomfort, because he was quick to add, “Don’t worry, Dawson, I’m not coming on to you. That’s where the compliments end. The reason you’ve never had a boyfriend has nothing to do with how you look, but everything to do with how you act. I’ve known you my whole life, so I know you don’t put yourself out there because you’re shy and reserved. But to guys who don’t know you, they see that and mistake it for you being a stuck-up snob who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Pair that with the fact you’ve always got your nose stuck in a book and guys want nothing to do with you. They think you’re uptight and boring. A stick-in-the-mud. That’s what we need to work on. You need to start having fun and stop being so damn scared of everything.”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he didn’t give me the opportunity. He held up the notebook in one hand a pen in the other. “This is where I come in. I’m going to teach you how to get a life.”

  “I have a life,” I grumbled, staring down at my hands.

  “But not an interesting, exciting one.” He clicked the end of his pen and started scribbling something on the paper. “Tell me, are you still afraid of heights? Afraid of the water? Large crowds?”

  “Did this just turn into a therapy session?”

  “Answer the questions, Emma.”

  I leaned back in the chair and sighed
. “Yes. To all three.”

  He jotted down some more stuff. “You still don’t know how to swim, correct?”

  I stared up at the ceiling and gritted my teeth. “I know how to swim. I just don’t know how to swim well.”

  “Okay, we’ll definitely be changing that,” he muttered.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Matt’s throwing a pool party next week, and you’re going.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said, returning my gaze to him.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  “I’m inviting you.”

  “And I’m turning you down.”

  “Emma,” he said, setting the notebook down beside him. “When Matt is your boyfriend, you’re going to have to attend his pool parties. And you’ll have to do so in the skimpiest bikini you can find. You might as well start now.”

  The word “bikini” instantly triggered a minor anxiety attack. I didn’t do bikinis. I didn’t do tankinis. Or one-pieces. Or any form of swimwear in general. I felt so exposed in bathing suits, which made me feel uncomfortable, and which was probably one reason why I never properly learned how to swim. There was no way I was going to go out and buy a bikini and wear it in front of Matt, let alone half the students in our class.

  “I can go bikini shopping with you, if you’d like.” He flashed me a lopsided grin.

  “I wouldn’t like,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “So, what have you been writing over there?”

  He closed the notebook. “Just some ideas. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

  I was planning on starting my book-organizing project, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. “Nothing. Why?”

  “Because,” he said, “we’re going to hang out.”

  “Hang out? And do what?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Remember? I have a list.”

  I didn’t like the fact he had this “list” and wouldn’t let me see it. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t even get a say in what was on it. Still, I found myself saying, “What time?”

  Logan grinned. “How about noon again?”

  Another afternoon hanging out with Logan? What was I getting myself into? I was about to blindly follow a guy I’d spent my entire life loathing, and now I was not only putting all my trust in him, but I was also going to be spending my summer vacation doing things I didn’t want to be doing.

  Unless...

  “Noon sounds fine,” I said, my lips curling into a devious smile as an idea began to form in my head. “But I have a proposal.”

  Logan arched an eyebrow. “A proposal?”

  “Yes. Why don’t we make things interesting? If I’m going to be stuck doing all these things on your list that I’m not comfortable doing, it’s only fair that you do the same.”

  He stared at me blankly. “I don’t follow. This isn’t about me.”

  “Sure, it is. You lied on that compatibility test because you didn’t want Grace to think you two had anything in common. She may have dumped you, but you and I both know she’s going to change her mind and want you back. Is that what you want?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “So, here’s what I propose: you get me to do things that will turn me into somebody Matt will like, and I’ll get you to do things that will turn you into somebody Grace won’t like.”

  “Things?” he echoed. “Like what type of things?”

  I grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  Logan chuckled. “Hey, that’s my line.” He paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. “I don’t know, Emma...”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “What’s wrong? Not up for the challenge? Don’t think you could handle it?”

  That instantly changed his tune. “Oh, I can handle whatever you have to throw at me, Dawson. I just don’t want to spend my summer vacation alphabetizing books.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, casually crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe we should call this whole thing off then.”

  A look of panic flashed across his face so quickly, I had to wonder if I was just imagining it. “Okay. You win. We’ll do it your way.”

  “Excellent!” I jumped up from the chair and headed toward the door. “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.” I flashed him a wicked grin over my shoulder before leaving the room.

  I was going home to make my own list.

  This was going to be fun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  LOGAN

  What had I gotten myself into?

  I pondered this the next day while getting ready for another afternoon with Emma. She was picking me up at noon to take me somewhere boring and dumb—I was sure of it.

  I had no idea why I’d agreed to go along with her version of my plan. How had this happened? I knew how. I was desperate. Desperate to get this whole thing over with so Rachel would give me the thumbs-up and tell me I didn’t have to go on the family trip to New York. She was thrilled when I told her what I was doing—attempting to get Emma together with her dream boyfriend—but she informed me that to get out of the trip, I’d have to actually land the deal. I’d have to get those two crazy kids together for at least one date.

  Easier said than done.

  I was going to give it an honest try, but if we got closer to the date of the trip and I’d still failed to make it happen, I wasn’t against resorting to paying Matt to take Emma out. Even if Rachel found out, it wouldn’t be until after she got home from New York, at which point, there was no punishment I couldn’t live with.

  A little before noon, I exited the shower and returned to my room to get dressed. I had slept in later than I’d wanted to, and now Emma would have to wait for me. I had no doubt she’d be there at twelve o’clock on the dot.

  Sure enough, my alarm clock read twelve as I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door, as I was about to put my shirt on. Deciding that could wait, I walked over to the door and opened it to see Emma standing on the other side.

  As soon as she saw me, her gaze immediately fell to my bare chest and her cheeks turned pink. I swear, that girl blushed so much, she must’ve had a medical condition. It wasn’t normal.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. And on top of not being able to talk, she also couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from my abs.

  “Hey, Emma,” I drawled, placing a hand on the door frame next to her and leaning slightly forward. I figured I might as well have a little fun with this.

  She cleared her throat and finally moved her eyes upward to meet with mine. “You’re not ready yet?”

  “Nah, sorry. I overslept.” I stepped aside and motioned for her to come in.

  “That’s okay,” she said, entering the room. “Looks like you’re almost ready, anyway.” Her eyes flickered briefly to my chest again.

  I was loving this. Obviously, Emma didn’t have a whole lot of experience being around shirtless guys, and it was making her uncomfortable. And if there was one thing in life I enjoyed doing, it was making Emma Dawson uncomfortable. And for that reason, I prolonged putting on my shirt, opting instead to put on my belt next. In slow motion.

  “So, where are we going, anyway?” I asked.

  Emma averted her gaze to the wall beside her. “I’m not telling you.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me. Otherwise, how am I going to know where to drive us?”

  She returned to her eyes to mine. “You’re not driving us anywhere. I’m driving.”

  I snorted. “I don’t think so, Dawson. I’m not going anywhere in that clunker of yours.”

  Her “clunker” was a 2010 Corolla that was in good enough shape. I just enjoyed giving her a hard time about it because it wasn’t my Mustang. She knew that, so she didn’t let it faze her.

  “Besides,” I continued, “I’m not sure I trust your driving.”

  That, however, offended her. “There is nothing wrong with my driving!”

  “I didn’t say there
is. I said I don’t trust it.”

  She scowled at me. “Fine. Whatever. You can drive.” She stopped and lowered her gaze to my chest. “Are you planning on putting on a shirt at some point today?”

  I glanced down at myself and smirked. “What’s wrong? Is my naked torso making you feel things? Things you’ve never felt before?” I placed a hand gently on her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. “It’s okay, Emma, those feelings are perfectly norm—”

  She interrupted me with a punch to the arm—one that I hated to admit kind of stung.

  Rubbing the spot where her fist had made contact, I backed away. Obviously, the girl wasn’t in the mood for joking around. Not that she ever was. I went over to the bed, grabbed my shirt and quickly threw it on.

  “There,” I said, “is that better?”

  Emma smiled. “Yes. Much better.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t understand her. Most girls would have asked that I please never put on a shirt again, but not this one. She wanted nothing to do with my pecs or my abs. She could not have been less impressed.

  What a weirdo.

  Less than a minute later, we headed down the stairs, said goodbye to Rachel, and left the house. As we made our way over to the Mustang, I said, “You don’t have to tell me where we’re going, just tell me when I need to turn. Deal?”

  “No need,” she said. “Head downtown and park in the parking garage. We’ll walk to our destination from there.”

  Hmm. Downtown. That was a clue, but it wasn’t much to go on. Downtown had a little bit of everything.

  We got inside the car and as soon as I turned it on, Emma’s hand flew to the radio dial.

  “Um, what are you doing?” I asked her.

  “If you insist on driving, then I insist on choosing the music.”

  I groaned. Great. Like I wanted to drive my Mustang around blaring sappy love ballads with chimes and harps and high-pitched singers who could break wine classes with their voices.