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“YOU’RE NOT SERIOUSLY GOING through with this, are you, Maddie?”
My best friend Linzee Holt’s words felt warm on my neck as we inched our way down the stairwell. The final bell had sounded on the first Wednesday of the school year, and a cool thousand of us were making a break from Applewood High classrooms.
“You know I have to,” I said over the tangle of dark hair on my shoulder. Even my clip couldn’t keep that mess in place all day. “I promised.”
“Sure, that.” She paused at the first-floor landing, backing into an alcove to escape the press of students, leaving enough room for me. “But promises made under the influence of chlorine and sunblock are meant to be broken.”
Linzee’s gift of reasoning was among the things I adored about her. She could find a trap door, a silver lining, or something amusing in just about anything. She was my other half—my better half—and I appreciated her sparkle all the more these days, what with my in-the-toilet love life and the mounting tension at my house over bills.
Of course, that didn’t mean Linzee was prophetic or always right. Take the black dye that turned her blonde hair green. Or the smells in her house since convincing her parents to keep their cat’s entire litter of kittens. But her biggest goof, as far as she was concerned, was something she didn’t do: talk me out of my crazy scheme last June to throw myself at my baseball-playing, hot-stuff neighbor, Hayes Townsend.
I’d been crushing on him since he moved in across the street with his dad and stepmom. His competitive streak had instantly tangled with mine, and our neighborhood’s once-casual swimming pool games, like diving for coins and Marco Polo, had arced to epic levels. I’d become all about winning, all about him. All about winning him.
It had taken a solid two years and one big lie for me to cross that threshold, and even then, we’d gone on to crash and burn. I adored Linzee for trying to take responsibility for missing the danger signs, but the whole of that hot mess was on me. I was the one who had to live with his accusation that I’d used him for his body.
“I’d love to get out of that ridiculous club, believe me,” I said, shifting my backpack to the other shoulder. “But I’m stuck. Apparently, I am the president.”
All this had been the doing of English teacher Mrs. Puglisi and my mom. The Puglisi backyard pool was the neighborhood hang spot on summer days, partly because the Puglisi family believed in “the more, the merrier,” and partly because they were the only ones in our subdivision with an in-ground pool. The two ladies had been sipping iced teas and commenting on the new rage of appreciation clubs at the high school—Italian, LGBT, African Heritage, and the like. The clubs were open to all and had been gaining popularity by selling hot lunch alternatives on Fridays and other creative fundraisers. Mom and Mrs. Puglisi had decided our upstate New York town of Applewood needed its own club.
Next thing I knew, Mrs. Puglisi was filling out paperwork and calling me prez. Which, I was certain, was simply so I’d show up and, hopefully, to attract other members. Not that I was super popular or anything, but going into my senior year, I knew people. Nearly six-foot-tall girls had a tendency to get noticed.
Exactly what the club planned to highlight, however, was anyone’s guess. That Main Street had as many pizzerias as traffic lights? That most of our local apples got squashed into applesauce? That our public library now had electronic books, too? I mean, our hometown was nice enough as far as these things go, but come on…
“That changes everything, Madame President.” Linzee’s eyes gleamed. “Down the road, when our own kids go to AHS, there’ll probably be a plaque on a wall commemorating you as the club’s trailblazer.”
I shot her a look.
“Or not.” She laughed. “Look, I gotta go or I’ll miss dance. Call me later with all the awesome deets.”
“I hate you,” I deadpanned.
Moments later, I cruised through room 112’s open door. Mrs. Puglisi stood by her desk, her face obscured by her signature oversized glasses, chatting up a guy with a shiny mouth of braces and a girl hiding inside her dark hoodie. I pegged the kids as freshmen and not likely on the fast track toward A-list popularity.
“Well, here she is,” Mrs. Puglisi said, her voice resonating with warmth. “Meet Madeleine Elsey, our club president.”
I tried to smile at the two kids. I mean, I might as well make the best of this nonsense.
“Let’s get started,” our fearless leader continued. “There may only be five of us now, but that’s plenty.”
Five? I glanced around until I spotted a long, lone figure gazing out the window.
Wait—
I knew that profile. Those broad shoulders. That wavy hair curling around the edges of the collar. More importantly, I recognized the way my blood was suddenly pumping and how hard it was to take a decent breath.
Holy crap!
What this club was hoping to accomplish was hardly an issue anymore. It was why a superjock with a real and legitimate life like Hayes Townsend would want to join. And how long he’d last … now he knew it meant putting up with me?
“WHY, LINZEE, WHY?” I’D bemoaned exactly three months ago. Lying on my bed, we’d been flipping through a magazine, debating which celeb wore a designer outfit better. “Why is it the guys I don’t want like me, and the ones I do want to be friends?”
“The age-old question. Probably what cave girls talked about while making boots out of mammoth hide. And cowgirls—”
“I get it.” Sometimes it was best to cut her off before her brain wandered out of bounds. Besides, she and her college boyfriend, Emory, were making the long-distance relationship work so seamlessly I sometimes wondered if she was of this world. “It figures,” I went on with a long sigh, “that Hayes is finally free of the wicked Willa, and yet who is texting me?”
“Alec,” we grumbled in sync. Alec was a guy from school I’d hung out with a few times. I’d tried to like him back—really tried—but just couldn’t get past his robot fixation and the silly way he ended most of his text messages with exclamation points!!!
Unlike Hayes, who had that intriguing habit of pausing before speaking, making me feel like he was carefully keeping the best parts of himself private. Making me want to get closer, to listen harder, to delve deeper…
But while sculling in the deep end earlier that day, I’d overheard him tell Mrs. Puglisi he was “taking a break” from dating to concentrate on his grades and his pitching in hopes of getting a college scholarship. I’d dunked my head underwater and screamed.
“Taking a break!” I lamented to Linzee. “Who does that?”
“I know, it’s like your life is ass-backward, Mads. If only you could hang out in a pool with Alec and go to movies and make out with Hayes.”
I opened my mouth to echo her “if only.” When a crazy wonderful idea exploded in my brain. (Clearly, my bestie and her big thinking had rubbed off.)
Four evenings later, I got my chance. The neighbors had wandered home. Mrs. Puglisi was making dinner while her almost deaf mother—everyone called her Nana—snoozed in a lounge chair. So basically, Hayes and I were alone. I pulled myself up on the step, gave my bikini a little tug, and confessed that I had a problem.
Hayes, who was a nice guy, even though he had the looks and swagger to be a jerk if he’d wanted, turned to give me his full attention.
My heart beating so loud I was afraid he’d either hear it or seeing it thumping in my chest, I unveiled my rehearsed line. “You know Alec, right?”
Resting elbows on the pool’s edge (making those baseball throwing muscles bulge, baby, bulge), he nodded.
�
�He and I have been hanging out lately. And, well, this is embarrassing, but it’s just not working. The kissing, I mean. I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing. Or maybe I don’t.”
Question marks flashed in his eyes. “And you’re telling me this … why?”
No stopping now. “Because someone needs to show me how to kiss. So I can know if it’s him. Or me. Or both of us together. So I know whether to move ahead with this thing or walk away.”
His gaze swept the surface of the pool. “And you want that somebody to be me?”
More than my next breath. “Well, you’re single again. And you know what you’re doing. I mean, I saw you with Willa … I mean, everybody did at school.”
“We were that bad?” he said in an uncharacteristically speedy comeback.
“You were that good!”
His dimples made a rare appearance. “Yeah, she was into PDA. Which was one of the reasons I wanted out.”
Silence fell between us. Awkward and painful, especially since my heart thumped against my ribs.
“I don’t know, Maddie.” He pushed off the wall, sculling into deeper waters. “I want to help you out, but it’s kinda weird, you know? And what would Alec think?”
I was ready for that. “He wouldn’t know. It would be our secret. But even if he did somehow find out, well, he couldn’t be mad. It’s not like we’re official or anything. And,” I added, “I’m trying to do this for us.” (Which wasn’t a lie. Depending on which guy was implied in the us.)
Mrs. Puglisi strolled out to check on Nana, and that was that. But as I stood and wrapped myself in a towel, all I could think of was texting Linzee. Hayes might not have said yes, but he hadn’t said no, either!
“MADDIE IS PRESIDENT?” HAYES spoke to Mrs. Puglisi, taking long strides to the front of the classroom. “I thought this was the first meeting.”
“It is,” she responded, her voice a little strained.
“How’d I miss the election?”
This was crazy. Not only had he showed up for this ridiculous club, but he actually cared who was president? But then another thought struck me, more like an evil whisper in my head. Was he making this scene because he didn’t want someone of my low moral quality to lead the club?
“He can have it,” I blurted. “Hayes can be president. If he wants.”
Mrs. Puglisi pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “The fair thing to do is vote, of course, I’m sorry, Maddie, but I guess I was too hasty. So anyone who’d like to be considered for club president or has anything to say on the matter, please state your case.”
Both freshmen shook their heads.
I stood beside my desk, blowing off the loose strands that had escaped my clip. “I vote we elect Hayes,” I forced out. Then I glanced his way. For the first time in months, our gazes connected. It was brief—but crackling.
“Hayes?” Mrs. Puglisi said.
“All right.” His dimples made a fleeting appearance. “But maybe she’d like to be co-president?”
I shook my head.
“Then how about VP?”
What in the world was going on?
“All in favor of making Hayes the president and Maddie the vice president?” Mrs. Puglisi asked.
The whole room—well, the four of us students—sounded with “yea,” marking the first official action of the Hometown of Applewood Club. Which was arguably the smallest, lamest, most pointless club on campus, but with Hayes included, was suddenly a lot more interesting.
I tried to stay focused during the meeting, to act as if I cared. Hayes’s attention seemed to waver a bit, too, but who was I to judge?
When Mrs. Puglisi called adjournment, I shuffled out behind him. “Hayes,” I said, falling into step. “Come clean with me. The Hometown of Applewood Club? Really? Why?”
After a pause so long I could have grown another inch, he cleared this throat. “I got talked into it.”
Oh, of course. Mrs. Puglisi had twisted his arm, too. Although why she’d made me prez over him made no sense, since Hayes had far more of a social draw. “Yeah, what can you say to her but yes, when you spend the summer in her pool?”
“No, Mr. Last,” he responded, referring to the guidance counselor. “He told me to get some diversity for my college apps, so I wasn’t only about baseball. And being a senior, he figured I could land a leadership position, which would also look good.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t want to take anything from you, which is why I suggested co-presidents.”
I would have loved it if he’d wanted to work with me because he thought me principled or clever or awesome, but I still appreciated that he thought of me at all. It was a world away from where we’d left things. “Thanks. College applications aren’t an issue for me. I’m going to the CC.”
He took a moment to digest that. “Right, your dad’s business. How’s that going?”
My body tensed. I hated talking about my dad’s camera shop. But anyone with a cellphone camera and access to a laptop (and that would be everyone in Applewood these days, from first graders on up to Nana) knew his business was drying up. Not to mention that the last time Hayes and I talked about this—how I didn’t know if we could afford to keep our house much longer, let alone swing college tuition—we had been in each other’s arms. It was all too raw and personal now.
“No change,” I simply said.
“You know Jenny O’Keefe? Scott’s older sister?” His response would have come off as completely random if I hadn’t spent those eleven nights getting to know how his brain worked. He wasn’t big on smooth segues.
I nodded. Who didn’t know the former head cheerleader and her baseball-playing brother?
“She just started at the CC and likes it. Especially the general ed classes,” he added, slanting me a look.
He clearly remembered more about me than he’d been letting on. That’s what I planned to take at the CC, while figuring out how to afford to finish at a university. I wasn’t giving up on my dreams of becoming a magazine editor just because my family had fallen on hard times.
He pulled open the door to the parking lot, and then held it to let me through. Sweeping by him, I breathed in, getting treated to his clean, masculine scent. For that millisecond, I felt at one with him again. Almost in love with him again.
A car horn honked. Hayes waved to the driver idling in a nearby spot, and then slanted a look at me. “I’d offer you a ride, but we’re not headed to my house any time soon.”
I dismissed that with a wave of my hand. Again, I was grateful for the consideration.
It wasn’t until he opened the passenger’s side door that I saw the carefully plucked eyebrows and the slick blonde hair. Jenny O’Keefe herself.
I faked a big smile, praying it covered my raging jealousy.
“Good to see you, Maddie!” she called back.
Of course they weren’t headed to his house any time soon. They had a lot better things to do first. The kinds of things he and I had once done. And I really, really wished we could do again.
I lifted my hand in a wave as they sped off. Even when life got immensely better, it could still suck.
“I WAS THINKING ABOUT what you asked, Maddie,” Hayes had said last June, sitting beside me on a top bleacher at the park’s baseball field. His buddies had headed home from practice. The sun was setting, the field lights were off, and technically, the park was closing.
But no matter. He’d texted me and asked me to meet him. I would have gone to hell and back.
“About kissing.” He settled in beside me. So close, our thighs almost touched. That in itself was enough to make my nerve endings come alive. “I guess I could help. I mean, I want to.”
I’m pretty sure I gasped, but he kept right on talking.
“You’re sure this is above board, right? Alec’s not going to come after me?”
“No problem,” I said with utmost sincerity. I wanted to tell him I hadn’t seen Alec in a couple of weeks and had no intentions of being near his lips again. But that wouldn’t be in my best interest.
“Okay.” If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he’d swallowed hard. “I know you’ve done this before, and there are no real rules. Mainly, you relax and do what comes naturally.”
Nothing felt more natural than being with Hayes, but the relax part was out of the question. Every fiber of my being wanted to leap into his lap, run my fingers through his hair, acquaint myself with the stubble shadowing on his cheeks, inhale his masculine scent.
His hand pressed gently against my cheek. “Now close your eyes.”
I did, and after some quivering anticipation, felt his lips over mine. Soft, at first. Then his hand moved to cup the back of my neck, and he re-angled, deepening the kiss. Our breaths mixing, our tongues dancing, our hands caressing; it seemed I could no longer tell where my body ended and his began.
“How does that compare?” he asked later, pulling apart. Somehow, we’d lost almost all light, except for the glow of full moon high in the sky.
“Compare?” I repeated dreamily. To what? Walking on air? Winning a lottery jackpot?
“Kissing Alec,” he said, reining me in.
“Oh,” I said and laughed—mostly at the fact his powerful kisses had robbed me of brain cells. “No comparison, really. He doesn’t have anything near your moves or style.”
Even in the dim light, I could see his smile.
For the next ten days, my life felt pretty perfect. Sure, my father went and sold the family van. Chlorine was doing a real number on my hair. And my conscience tapped a steady beat over my ongoing deception. But I was happy. And I was pretty sure Hayes was, too.
Rather quickly, we’d gone from teacher/student to essentially lab partners, learning and experimenting together. Secret lab partners. By day, we’d hang around the Puglisi’s pool, trying to act same-old/same-old, not to give ourselves away. Although, somehow, I always ended up on his shoulders during the shallow-end chicken fight competitions, my thighs pressed tight against his neck, his hands solid on my legs.
SECOND CHANCES: A ROMANCE WRITERS OF AMERICA® COLLECTION Page 6