Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

"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.