“Yes. Just because I don’t own a single piece of pink clothing, and I can’t apply eyeliner without looking like a raccoon, and I’d rather be on the court than at the mall, and I basically don’t do any of the stuff girls are supposedly always doing, doesn’t mean I’m fighting it. I’m … redefining it.”
He grins. “Fair enough.” His eyes grow soft, and I realize he’s staring at me the same way he did that day on Massey’s staircase. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
Redefined or not, the girl in me melts under his gaze. My face, my neck, my whole body burns. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Chris motions toward the door. “Want to get out of here?”
Claymore Park is empty. And dark. Two of the streetlights are out, and if it weren’t for a full moon, we wouldn’t be able to see the basket.
Chris shows off his newest skill, dribbling behind his back, while I stand between him and the net. I rest my hands on my hips and cock my head. He’s got to make a move sometime. He approaches me slowly, smiling, still dribbling.
He fakes to the right, but I don’t fall for it, and in the blink of an eye, I have the ball. I take it out and rush back, but halfway through my layup, I realize he’s stopped chasing me. I glance over to see what’s wrong, and the ball bounces off the rim. “What’s the matter?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. Just admiring redefined femininity in action.”
I’m glad it’s dark, so he can’t see me blush. I look around for the ball, but it has rolled off somewhere into the grass. He strolls over to me. It’s a cool night, but we’ve been playing hard, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “I get it, you know.” His eyes search mine. “Not wanting to sign with a college team. It’s like me deciding to do the Polar Plunge.”
I frown. “You mean you think I’m suffering from temporary insanity?”
Chris laughs. “No. Don’t you see? The Plunge was never really about plunging. It was about seizing the moment. Breaking out.”
“Breaking out?”
“Yeah. Out of the box everybody puts me in. The lame-o-dude-who’s-always-in-Lexi-Malloy’s-shadow box. I wanted to do something … different. Mine.”
I nod. His face glistens in the moonlight, and his cowlick is sticking up in a most non-lame-o way. I have an urge to reach up and run my fingers through it, but I resist. “Is that what ‘Happy Birthday’ and the whole breakdance-ninja thing was about, too?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“For the record, I’ve never thought you were lame. And you’re too tall to fit in my shadow.”
He smiles. “For the record, I don’t think of you as just an amazing basketball player. I think of you as … Lexi.”
The way he says it makes my heart pound inside my chest. I feel like he means me—who I really am, who I’ve always been, and who I have the potential to be. I swear no one has ever said my name like that before, and it makes me want to put my arms around his neck and kiss him. I want to tell him I’m so, so thankful he’s my best friend and that I’m lucky to have him in my life and am totally and completely in love with him. But I don’t. Instead, I laugh and give an exaggerated twirl as if to show off the fabulosity that is Lexi.
Chris grins and takes a step closer to me. For a moment, I imagine he’s going to kiss me, but then he looks away. “Now, where did that ball go?” He shuffles off into the darkness to find it.
Crap. I should have said it. If I were one of my clients, I’d tell myself to woman up and do it. I’d tell myself I was being a total freaking wimp and I was never going to find love if I couldn’t get it together. What is it they say? Those who can’t do, teach. That’s me. Come on, Lexi. Stop being such a … lame-o.
Wait a minute. Who am I kidding? That’s not what I’d say to a client at all. I’d never call one of them a wimp or lame. No, if I were one of my clients, I’d remind myself that I’m strong and smart and beautiful and have arms other girls would kill for. I’d tell myself I’m a rock star. Lexi. The way Chris said it.
“Heads up.” Chris appears at the edge of the court and tosses the ball to me. It’s damp from the grass.
I dribble slowly, purposefully toward him. Go for it, Lexi. You can’t score unless you take the shot. “Remember the last time we were here, and you asked me about the dodgeball thing?”
Chris looks down at his feet. “Yeah?”
“It wasn’t a pity pick.”
“Okay.”
I stop dribbling and tuck the ball under my arm. “I did it because I wanted you on my team. Because we are a team.”
Chris’s eyes meet mine. His expression is curious, as though he’s wondering where I’m going with this.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I tease. “It might not have been the smartest move at the time. But it was real. I chose you. I still choose you. I want you to know that.”
He squints. “What are you saying, Lexi?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale. “I’m saying win or lose, I’m lucky to have you. And I’m saying ….” I twirl the ball between my two pointer fingers as my mom’s voice echoes inside my head. You might not be here if your father hadn’t made the first move. I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. I was too chicken. I can’t let fear keep me from doing something this important, something that could change everything. “I’m saying you’re my best friend. And I want you to be my best friend forever. And maybe … more.”
For a long moment, Chris says nothing. My heart pounds inside my chest as I wait for him to respond. Was that a brave move? Or a stupid one? Finally, he takes a step toward me. “Want to know something?” His voice is low.
“What?”
He grabs the ball from me and tosses it back into the night. “The secret admirer? I kind of thought it was you. I kind of … hoped it was you.”
“Really?” My head swims and my legs feel weak, and I have to blink hard to clear my mind. “You did?”
“Yeah. I mean, right up until you basically shoved Lindsay at me.”
So that bouquet was meant for me? My breath grows shallow as my mind processes how different the past few months might have been if I’d made a move on Chris myself rather than letting someone else hire me to do it for her. How a teddy bear in a Bulls jersey from the right girl could have changed everything. How I sat on the bench and let someone else play my position and even cheered her on.
Chris takes my hands in his. How can he be so calm and steady when I’m shaking like a pompom at a pep rally? “You’re my best friend, too, and I don’t want to mess anything up between us, but—”
“Why did you sleep with her?” My hand flies to my mouth. Where did that come from? It’s a question I hadn’t planned to ask, and I’m not sure I want the answer.
“What?”
I pull my other hand away and look down. “Never mind. It’s none of my business. You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just … you said she was a great girl. That’s the most you ever said. You never said you loved her or saw any kind of a future with her, but you slept with her and I didn’t think you’d—”
“I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I liked Lindsay a lot, or at least, I liked the person I thought she was. I liked the idea of her, and I have to admit, I liked all the attention she gave me. But that was it. And we never ….”
I take a deep breath and fight the tears that have sprung up out of nowhere. Of course. Revenge. Lindsay told me they’d slept together, or led me to believe it, to make me miserable. And it worked. I’m such an idiot. I shake my head. “I’m sorry. It was something Lindsay said. I shouldn’t have listened.”
I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted off me, a weight I didn’t even realize had been crushing me. I reach out my hand, and Chris accepts it and pulls me back toward him. I rest the other hand on his stomach. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels big, bold. “I don’t want to mess us u
p, either, but I have a feeling it’s too late for that.” I sigh. “I have been incredibly stupid.”
He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “Not stupid. Maybe … careful. And so have I. I’m tired of being careful.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I smile and do the most carefree thing I can think of and perhaps the most carefree thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him—a sweet, soft kiss that sends my pulse racing. The sounds of traffic on Sterling Boulevard fade away as I taste his lips, warm and salty. The kiss is somehow simultaneously everything I’ve dreamed it would be yet nothing like I’d imagined. I’m grateful for his arms circling my waist, keeping me from dissolving into a puddle on the asphalt.
“That was … not messed up,” he says.
“Not even a little bit.” I step back and take in his silhouette against the moon. His broad shoulders and clean-shaven, chiseled chin. “Hey, can I …?” I reach up and run my fingers through his cowlick.
“What are you doing?” He laughs and swats my hand away.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You have no idea.”
“You have?”
“Yes.”
“My cowlick?”
“It’s sexy. Trust me.”
He gives me a teasing grin. “Want to do it again?”
“Can I?”
He leads me to the bench at the side of the court and pulls me down next to him. Our legs are entwined, and he rests his hand on my knee as I play with his hair. Is this for real? I’ve wanted it for so long, imagined it, dreamed it, but I never quite believed it could happen.
“So you really thought I didn’t see you as a girl?”
I nod.
“Lexi, I have always thought of you as a girl—as the prettiest, strongest, most incredible girl I know.”
“You lie.”
“It’s true.” He gazes into my eyes, and even without a fireplace nearby or his practice jacket around my shoulders, I feel warm all over. He takes my hands in his. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be more than friends until the secret admirer thing, but I promise you, your girl-hood has never been in question.”
I can’t believe he’s saying these things, and part of me wants to sit here and listen to him say them all night, but a bigger part wants nothing more than to feel his lips pressed against mine again, to repeat that incredible, beautiful kiss.
Love is but a whisper away.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
And so he does.
He kisses me once. He kisses me again. He kisses me a third time, and a fourth.
And then I lose count.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book would not be possible without the hard work, support, and inspiration of so many. I am thankful to you all, and especially:
To Georgia McBride, the entire Swoon Romance team, and my agent, Andrea Somberg, who continue to believe in me.
To my many amazing writing friends, and especially to Ellen Braaf, Kathy Chappell, the Cudas, Tom Angleberger, Autumn Lala, the Writer’s Center-Leesburg Committee members, the SCBWI Mid-Atlantic Chapter, the Romance Writers of America Virginia Chapter, and the Romance Writers of America Young Adult Chapter. You make the path wider, clearer, and a lot more fun.
To the Sports Junkies, with a special shout out to AWadd, for inspiring my idea for The Boyfriend Whisperer 2.0. (Yes, there will be a sequel.)
To the tweens and teens in the Sterling United Methodist Church LifeSigns youth group, and to the SUMC book clubs. Thanks for all the love.
To my parents, Bea and Ted Acorn, and my siblings, Deb Acorn, Karen Benfield, and Ted Acorn, for all their love and support.
To Joe and Eris and Sarah. I couldn’t ask for a better family.
And to God, in whom all things are possible.
LINDA ACORN BUDZINSKI
Linda Budzinski is author of three young adult novels, The Boyfriend Whisperer, Em & Em, and The Funeral Singer. She lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, Joe, and their feisty Chihuahua, Demitria. She's a sucker for romance and reality TV and, of course, matchmaking, so she's been known to turn off her phone’s ringer when watching The Bachelor. Her favorite flower is the daisy, her favorite food is chocolate, and her favorite song is “Amazing Grace.” When she's not writing, she works in nonprofit communications and outreach.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Acknowledgements
About the Author
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The Boyfriend Whisperer Page 19