Page 4

“Not interested,” I blurted, more in a mummy trance than from actually thinking my answer through, because why, oh heavens, why I said not interested I still don’t know.

Not interested was exactly the opposite of what I really felt. But geez. This was more than I could handle. This guy—this Ryder—was one smooth worker. He was too much for me. Too bold, too cool, too beautiful. If he knew I belonged to a “nerd herd,” he’d probably smack himself in the forehead for even looking my way, then flee as fast as his beautiful, tanned and toned legs could carry him.

But he knew nothing about me. And there he continued to stand, smiling as if I was something special.

I floundered in his presence—his sparkling, overwhelming, gorgeous presence. Glancing down at my camera, pretending I was trying to figure out a setting on the control knobs, I stalled, hoping he’d give up on me and scram.

“Really?” Forty-two answered, sounding surprised, and not moving on at all. “Not interested, huh? Well, that’s…interesting.” Unable to help myself, I looked up. He grinned, unaffected by my brush off. “What is ‘Not Interested’ anyway? A family name? Irish or something? Hmm. It sounds…German?”

With no other witty lines left in my arsenal of comebacks, I panicked. Tucking my camera close, I spun from Mr. Perfect and scampered off.

“Hey, where’re you going?” His voice, confused yet curious, called after me. “Hey. Why didn’t your mother name you Maybe, or We’ll See, or What’s-Your-Number? That way, we could call our first born Absolutely.”

Chapter 2

My face flaming hot and my hair no doubt molten lava by this point, I kept half-walking, half-sprinting from number forty-two, a complete—but totally hunky—stranger who’d just suggested we have children together someday.

But. Oh. My. God. The most beautiful boy on the planet had just hit on me. Wait. The universe. Yes, the most beautiful boy in the universe wanted to know my name.

Except…

One of his friends had probably dared him to approach me.

“Yo man, flirt with that homely-looking Hillsburg chick there taking pictures when we run by her. I dare you.”

In answer, he had surely rolled his eyes and snickered. “Yeah, right. I’ll pass.”

“No, seriously, man. Beer’s on me the next party we have. I got a fake ID to pay and everything.”

“Okay, fine. You’re on. I’ll get her name.”

But poor Ryder—or whoever he really was—hadn’t gotten squat from me. No free beer for him, ha, ha.

My shoulders straightened with pride for preventing myself from helping him win his dare, if it had indeed been a dare, which I felt certain it had to be because, well, come on. He was from Southeast. I was still technically a Hillsburger. We were adversaries.

Right?

I raced around the sidelines, back to the safety of Bridget’s side, where she still sat in the pep club section, clicking off pictures of Hillsburg cheerleaders and students with painted faces.

I plopped down next to her and stared straight ahead as I spoke out the side of my mouth. “Don’t look, but number forty-two from Southeast just…” Just what? I wasn’t too sure what he’d just done. “He just…asked me for my name.”

Bridget gasped and looked.

&nb

sp; “I said don’t look!”

“Whoa,” Bridget answered, her jaw coming loose and her mouth gaping open.

I elbowed her. “Stop looking.”

She didn’t. “Gracie, I don’t think it matters. He wouldn’t see me right now if I ran out into center court and did a line dance in my bathing suit. He’s too busy ogling you.”

“He…he what? Right now?” I spun and looked too.

Bridget wasn’t lying. Number forty-two had returned to his team and stood in line behind three players, waiting for his turn to throw a figure eight with two other teammates. But he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to his warm-up drill. He really was staring across the floor directly at, yep, me.

I gulped. Whoa.