Aw, crap, they’re kind of tight. I blame it on working in my grandmother’s bakery over the summer. I didn’t even have to eat anything to gain weight—just breathing in that wonderful freshly baked pastries smell was enough to put on the pounds. But Lauren didn’t gain any weight, and she was right there behind the counter with me, selling baked good for minimum wage. Must be nice to have a bird’s metabolism.
I wonder what Matt will think of my new hair color. My long dark brown curls are now a golden brown, closer to my real hair color, which is blonde, like my mother’s. I’ve always thought my light hair didn’t match my naturally tan skin and almond-shaped eyes, so I’ve been dyeing it since I was fifteen. I feel like a brunette trapped in a blonde’s body. Is that weird?
I’ve spent too much time worrying about my appearance, and now I’m going to be late. I grab my bag and dash out the door—but then I have to come back in for Matt’s souvenir necklace—and also I decide to put my hair up in a clip, because I hate the weight of my heavy hair on my back on a hot day like today.
Wow, it’s really hot. I hope the air conditioning in my old Toyota works today. It blows air, just not very cool air. I think I’d be better off rolling the windows down. Ha, good thing I put my hair up. I start the car and pull out of the carport in a hurry, eager to get some air moving around in the car’s stiflingly hot interior.
Despite the brain melting heat, it’s a nice day. The sky is a bright shade of blue, with fluffy cotton candy clouds drifting lazily around. I live in Hidden Cove, a small-ish coastal town in southern California. Because of the beautiful beaches and perfect weather, we’re kind of considered a party town, and we seem to attract more than our fair share of drunk college kids. Now some people may think that makes Hidden Cove sound like a fun place to live, but not me. It gets really irritating. I hate being hit on by obnoxious frat boys who have vomit breath and grabby hands. And ladies, do not flash me your boobs. I have a pair of my own, and I have absolutely no desire to see yours. Really, put some clothes on, girls.
As I’m speeding toward Taco Bill’s, I feel excited butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I missed Matt! I didn’t realize I did until just now. Isn’t that weird? Okay, I sort of missed him. I think. But to be honest, I didn’t really think about him, uh, at all when I was in Hawaii.
Matt and I have been together just over a year, but we’ve known each other since middle school, having shared several AP classes together. I’ve always thought he was funny, cute, and smart, but we really bonded when we were partnered together for a history assignment on the Hundred Years War. He impulsively kissed me during a study session, and it would have been a nice surprise had my mouth not been full of pizza at the time.
So the first kiss was kinda gross, but we improved after that. Kind of. The truth is…I don’t like kissing! It’s so messy, and awkward, and…I don’t know! Smothering. I don’t know if that’s the right word. I just don’t like kissing, okay? Ugh! Sorry, Matt. Not that I’d ever admit it to him.
Kissing aversions aside, I can’t wait to see my boyfriend. As I park in front of the sombrero shaped Mexican restaurant, I suddenly feel self conscious and weirdly shy. What will he think of my hair? Will he notice the five pounds I’ve gained? I feel tired and jaded, like I’ve just come back from a war.
The parking lot is crowded at Taco Bill’s, which I expected since it’s lunchtime and just a few days before school starts up again. When I’m getting out of the car, I notice a bunch of tween girls standing in front of the restaurant, gawking at a sleek foreign-looking sports car. No, they’re staring at the guy leaning against it.
Okay, wow. He just turned around, and I can’t help the little gasp that escapes me. Um. Wow. This guy is incredibly gorgeous! No wonder those poor girls seem awestruck.
Tall and muscular, with a lean build and impressive broad shoulders, Mr. Gorgeous exudes sex and danger—even from where I’m standing. He’s turned sideways, so I can only see his profile, but what I can see is sculpted perfection. Short dark hair, carelessly tousled, an intense brow, the elegant sharp planes of his bone structure…wow, lips so clearly defined and sensual that I get embarrassed just looking at them.
Mr. Gorgeous turns away again, breaking my lust-filled trance, and the world abruptly tips back into perspective. Still, I can’t look away—out of curiosity. Who is he? He looks a bit older than high school, and he’s wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt, almost in defiance of the heat. A businessman? He’s talking on his phone and seems oblivious of the attention he’s getting, his sunglasses covered eyes focused on the passing cars zooming by in the street.