Holding On To Heaven (Allendale Four 2)

I was caught between my father and secret boyfriends—my funding and the integrity of my relationships. It was stupid, but I’d warned them. My father was nothing but trouble. The best thing to do was to play his game and then hope for the best.

“So you need to straddle the line.”

“Yep.”

Amber pulled a red school jersey out of the closet and tossed it on the bed. She moved to my top dresser drawer and rummaged through, pulling out a plain, white bra and threw it my way. I caught it with a raised eyebrow. “Go invite Samantha. We’ve got a lot of work to do to make you a convincing church girl with enough sex appeal to make this kid, Noah, feel good about himself. God, I can’t believe I’m involved with this.”

I’d played this game before—with disastrous results—but this was just once—one night and one party. When it was over, I’d tell the guys and apologize.

At least that was what I told myself as I walked across the suite. What could go wrong?

15

I knew my outfit for the night was going to hit the mark the second I walked into the aquatic center. Three sets of eyes shifted in my direction, taking in the tight-fitting football jersey and cut-off jean shorts. Hayden’s eyes lingered on the two French braids hanging over my shoulders. Jackson’s were glued to my legs, and Oliver, he scanned me head-to-toe, eyes lingering over his favorite spots.

It was a work of art—designed with my knowledge of slutty school-girl wear and Amber’s sense of empowerment. It was equal parts flirty and chaste. The perfect combination to get Noah’s “attention” while still blending in. Honestly, I worried I maybe nailed it too closely, because all three of the boys looked like they may climb out of their skin. I untied the swim hoodie I stole from Anderson from around my waist and tugged it on.

“Heaven!” Jackson called, scooting over to make room. Samantha followed me and said hi to all the guys. Hayden leaned over Jackson and gave me a hug. Oliver winked at me and I smiled back.

“Hey, Samantha,” Oliver said. “Did I see you at the baseball field the other day?”

The tips of her ears turned red and she nodded.

“She just came to hang with me,” I replied. “But then she realized watching baseball practice was boring as hell and she ran away while she had the chance.”

“Boring?” Jackson snorted. “Baseball is the thinking man’s game. It’s not boring.”

“You made it just in time,” Hayden said. “Anderson’s big event is next.”

I glanced up at the digital chart on the wall. Anderson’s name was on up there: Thompson: Lane 5 200 Butterfly.

Oh god, Anderson was swimming butterfly. Be still my heart.

I scanned the pool deck, looking for the familiar body, and found him sitting on a bench behind the starter blocks. Earphones covered his ears and he wore a hoodie that matched mine but about two sizes larger. He stared straight ahead, obviously in some kind of zone. This wasn’t my first swim meet of his I’d attended, but this was race was definitely the most important.

“If he gets less than 1:56, he’ll set the school record and move to the finals,” I told Samantha.

“Wow, so he’s really that good?”

“Olympic good,” Oliver answered. I heard the nerves in his voice. We all knew how much Anderson wanted and deserved this. I sure as hell hoped my pre-meet stress reliever wasn’t a bad idea.

The swimmers of the prior race hopped out of the pool and the announcer called the men to the starter blocks. Anderson removed his headphones and unzipped his hoodie, revealing his muscular, toned back, chest, and arms. His abs were breathtaking and Samantha made a small noise from beside me.

I couldn’t even get jealous. His body was a work of art, like a statue carved from marble, and deserved every impressed ogle he got.

Adjusting his goggles and cap, he climbed the step to the top of the small, square platform. His name was written over his forehead: Thompson. He looked ridiculously huge up there, shoulders wider than the block. The judge made a few comments and Anderson spared a glance in our direction. The boys took that as an opportunity to shout their support.

“Go Thompson!”

“Kill it, dude!”

“Swim, man, swim!”

His eyes locked with mine. I mouthed, good luck and he turned away, refocused on the race.

My stomach twisted anxiously, and I grabbed onto Jackson’s arm. He rubbed my hand with his.

“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath. I’d never been so nervous for someone before. “I think I’m going to puke.”