Courting Carlyn Read online

  There she goes with my name again. Her passion-filled disdain for me pulls me off the shelf I’m leaning against and draws my body physically to hers. “Who knows? You may be right. Only one way to be sure.”

  She stands up straight, her attitude exiting her demeanor. She swallows hard. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Check it out for yourself. See how I fare next to Phil Handyman or whatever his name was.”

  She looks down at her hands, picking at her fingernails in a vain attempt to ignore my approach. I know I shouldn’t try to kiss her, but something animal has switched over in my brain, and keeping my distance is no longer an option.

  “We’re in the middle of a hellacious storm,” I say. “It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in and catch us. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our secret.”

  I slide my hand behind her to the shelf she leans against and grip the vertical beam. Her body shivers as I lift her chin with my knuckle. She glances at me quickly, then puts her gaze back on her hands, which she has lifted up as a barrier between our chests. The rain beats in a steady stream onto the roof of the muggy little shed, a roar of thunder sounding in the distance.

  “It’s cold in here. Are you cold?” she asks.

  It’s at least eighty degrees in this suffocating shed. “No.”

  I lean closer, my lips hovering next to hers. I want a green light for this kiss. It’s taking everything in my being to keep my lips from hers right now, my body heat bouncing off her exposed skin. “So, do you want to give my kiss a test drive? See if you think girls across the world are dogging me as we speak?”

  Her gaze stays trained on her fidgety hands as she releases them and grabs the collar of my polo shirt. “No,” she says. I back away, but she pulls my collar toward her. “Maybe.”

  I’ve got to contain my smile, but damn. “It’s your call,” I say, running my knuckle up her forearm.

  She stares at my mouth, her lips quivering. She pulls me closer, but just as our mouths touch, she pushes me away.

  “I need to go check on my girls.” She flings the shed door open and takes off running.

  I rest my forearm on the shelf, ball up my fist, and then drop my forehead onto it. This girl is going to be the death of me. But one thing I know with certainty is there’s no way I can live the rest of my life without knowing what our first kiss would feel like.

  Chapter Ten

  Carlyn

  Keisha roots around on the beanbag next to me trying to get comfortable. When she settles, she does so with her little hand wrapped around my upper arm. I give her hand a squeeze, and she squeezes my arm in return.

  Fred and Nancy are precious for letting eighteen kids pile up in the rec room over their garage. We all keep our eyes glued to a big old box television from the nineties. The kids mainly seem happy to be doing something other than lying around on their cots, separated in the two cabins.

  The rain has not let up for two hours. We tried cards, puzzles, board games, but all the girls were restless. Basically, they didn’t like being separated from the boys. I guess after a week of constant companionship, the boys have started to grow on them.

  God knows one has grown on me.

  Speaking of, Vaughn sits on a stool at the back of the room, gnawing on a toothpick. His knees fall out to the sides, his long legs hiked up on the top rung while he rests his elbows on the bar behind him. He catches me looking at him and raises an eyebrow.

  My stomach pirouettes, and I instinctively burrow my chin into the beanbag behind Keisha’s head.

  I pat her leg and whisper, “I’ll be right back.”

  She gazes up at me with those big brown eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to make a quick phone call. I won’t be long.”

  She nods disconcertedly, so I give her a smile and sneak out of the room and find Nancy wiping down the countertop in the kitchen.

  “Do you mind if I use your phone? I have trouble getting service out here.”

  “Not at all, sweetie. Third door on the left. It’s the guest room. You can shut the door for privacy.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  I close myself into the rustic room where a red-and-yellow quilt hangs from the wall in front of the bed. I pick up the receiver of an old-fashioned black rotary phone that sits on a doily on the bedside table. I stick my finger in the numbers and dial my way to Rebecca’s phone, feeling like I’m as far away from the real world as a girl can get.

  “Hello?” Rebecca answers.

  “It’s me,” I say.

  “Oh my God! I almost didn’t pick up. What is this number?”

  “It’s Fred and Nancy’s house phone. It’s a rotary.”

  “A what?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind. I can’t get service on my cell out here. Have you texted me?”

  “Like eight thousand times.”

  “How’s it going? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in six months.”

  She laughs. “I know it’s been like a week. Not even. What’s going on with you? How’s the boy wonder?”

  I close my eyes tightly. “Okay, I just have a quick sec to talk, but oh my God, Rebecca. I’m dying. He just tried to kiss me, like two hours ago.”

  She squeals so loudly I have to pull the phone from my ear. “No. Way.”

  I can’t believe how much I’ve missed her. “Yes. Totally.”

  “How? Where?”

  “With his lips. On the mouth.”

  “No, dork, I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.” I fill her in on a revised version of the story.

  “Wow. So you bolted?”

  “Like lightning,” I say.

  “He’s gonna try again, you know.”

  My belly flip-flops like a goldfish out of the tank. “You think?”

  “Duh. Are you gonna let him?”

  I bite my lip as I twirl the curly cord around my pinky. “I don’t want to get him in trouble. There’s this strict no-fraternizing rule here, and we’ve both been trying really hard to adhere to it. All week long, we’ve been totally keeping our distance, playing this whole polite game, and then we have this stupid thunderstorm that traps us in the barn and it’s like all this work of fighting these feelings all week is totally squashed.”

  “Was it like The Notebook with the rain and all?” she asks.

  “No, it was absolutely nothing like The Notebook.”

  “Well, crap.”

  I whisper into the phone, “It was sexier than that.” We both break down laughing.

  Footsteps sound down the hallway, and I straighten up in case it’s Vaughn. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Okay, but call me back as all this plays out.”

  “I will,” I say.

  “Oh, and hey, Carlyn.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If Vaughn’s a good kisser, this could make for a very interesting summer for you.”

  I grin, but then a strange feeling washes over my brain, like something’s off. We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I sit on the side of the bed a little uneasy. It’s the whole Jeffrey thing. I’m supposed to be befriending Vaughn so that I can convince him to go pro. After listening to Jeffrey’s reasoning, I can’t deny that I think it’s probably the right thing to do. Still, I need to figure out how to approach it without being super weird. I’ll need to think on that.

  I head back toward the kitchen and find Nancy sitting at the table holding Keisha’s hand, a tear dropping from her eye. I place a hand on her upper back. “Everything okay?”

  “She’s just a little homesick,” Nancy says. “She’s gonna call her mama now that you’re off. Go on, sweetie.”

  “Thanks.” Keisha skitters down the hallway and closes herself into the guest room.

  Nancy shakes her head. “Bless her little heart.”

  “Do you think she’s going to be okay? She and Josh are the ones that signed up for the full-summer slots.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s just the first week. That’s when homesickne
ss is the worst. And they’ll go home most weekends on the bus.”

  I make a sad face, and then we smile like we both understand. It’s a weirdly adult moment for me.

  I head back to reclaim our spot on the beanbag but find Vaughn’s long body spread out over it, his hands cradling the back of his head. I rest my hands on my hips and glare him down. He chews on his toothpick, staring at the television, his lip curled upward in a grin.

  My stomach sets off on a flutter. He’s flirting with me. Vaughn Yarborough is flirting with me. That’s such a crazy concept, but one I’m starting to get used to, and one I’m really starting to like.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vaughn

  Carlyn sits at a table under the pavilion fiddling with beads. She’s a fish out of water doing crafts. I walk her way to retrieve a missed football and overhear her trying to get the girls to build a volcano instead.

  The boys, along with two of the girls who are playing with us, are losing interest in football, the fatigue of the week wearing them down. I set us up for what’s likely to be our last play. I slow my roll so Micah can mow me down. He does so with the help of a pack of his friends.

  I lay smashed under teenaged bodies. “Half of you are on my team.”

  They giggle and finally roll off one by one, Micah coming up with the ball. “And you call yourself an athlete.” He shakes his head. “My little sister could outrun you.”

  “Like she outruns you all the time?” one of the girls says to him, and the two of them take off in a chase that turns into a race.

  I stay on the ground, lying on my back, my hands cupped behind my head. I’ve never seen the sky this blue, empty of clouds. Or maybe I’ve never really taken the time to look.

  Josh sets a particularly large sneaker for a thirteen-year-old on my stomach and bears down. I lock up my abs, grab his leg, and take him down to the ground. We both lie on our backs, gazing at the sky. “You looking forward to seeing your parents tomorrow?” I ask.

  “I’m just ready to get back here on Monday.”

  “You think you might get bored this summer? You’re coming back for several more weeks, aren’t you?”

  “As many as I can talk my dad into, which shouldn’t be a problem. He’s into anything that gives him time with his girlfriend and gets me out of the house.” He doesn’t talk about his mom, and I don’t ask, though I wonder if I should. We lay in companionable silence for a while. “When did you start playing tennis?” Josh asks.

  “I was like four or five. Barely could even get my hand around the grip.” His face sags in disappointment. “What about you?” I ask.

  He frowns. “This week.”

  I turn on my side, facing him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. That’s impressive.”

  He grins, but then his expression turns solemn. “Do you think I could be as good as you one day?”

  I nudge him in the side. “Hell yeah, I think you can. I’m gonna be watching my back here in a couple of weeks.”

  He doesn’t smile. “I’m serious.”

  “I am, too.” He glares at me, and I realize how sincere he is. I sit up on my elbow. “I absolutely think you could be better than me someday. And that’s not an easy thing to admit.”

  “But I just started. You’ve been playing since you were little.”

  “Talent is talent no matter how old you are. Stick with it. Play every chance you get even if it’s against a backboard. Join leagues. Play guys who are better than you. You can do anything you set your mind to—and that’s not rhetoric. I wouldn’t tell just anyone that.” I nudge him in the chest. “You’ve got heart, dude. That’s what it takes to be the best.” He smiles at me, and then rolls onto his back. “So what made you want to sign up for this camp if you’d never played tennis before?” I ask.

  He takes on the expression of a guy twice his age wearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I needed to get away.”

  I wait him out, hoping he’ll say more if he needs to, but he doesn’t. He sits up, and I follow suit. He stares at the girls making their crafts. Carlyn holds up a bracelet with a hopeful look until beads drop off, scattering all over the table and dropping to the floor.

  “Carlyn’s pretty,” Josh says.

  “She’s all right,” I lie.

  Keisha skips over toward where we’re sitting and stops about five feet in front of us, giggling. “Catch.”

  She tosses a tennis ball to us, but in her excitement, she lobs it way out of our reach. Josh rolls over to it while she scampers back to the table.

  Carlyn suspiciously has her back turned, her hand covering the side of her face from view.

  Josh tosses me the ball. “It’s for you.”

  She’s written in black marker on it.

  Let’s see how you compare, hotshot.

  I contain my grin, hoping my poker skills are as good as I think they are. I toss the ball up and down a couple of times before pocketing it.

  “Compare to what?” Josh asks.

  “Phil Carpenter.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” I get to my feet.

  “You’ve got to write her back,” he says.

  “I do?”

  “Duh.”

  I consider him. “Do you know what a wingman is?”

  He gives me an exhausted look. “Please. I’m thirteen.”

  “All right, then. If I need to sneak away for a little bit later, you’ll cover for me?”

  “Dude, I’m your wingman. It’s my job.”

  …

  Carlyn won’t look at me during closing ceremonies. She blushes, tucks already tucked hairs behind her ears, and grins a lot, but she never even gives me a glance that I can catch.

  I’m typically a collected guy. I’ve had the jitters plenty of times, but usually, I don’t stress over girls. The more of a nervous vibe you put out there, the faster they run. Stay aloof and indifferent, and they flock.

  So here’s the problem. I’m freaking nervous as a Chihuahua when it comes to this girl. First of all, she’s hot. That’s nothing new, of course. I’m around hot girls all the time. But the way she’s all reserved but rocks those tight tank tops and short skirts is maddening. My fingers itch to touch her. Her body’s like a tugboat, dragging my heart and my libido around.

  Second of all, I like her. She’s goofy and fun, and not afraid of much, other than howling coyotes, which I like if it gets her in my cabin at night. But then she’s really smart and insightful, way more than I am on the court with these kids. She equates each one with a famous tennis player, telling them she can see potential in them like Serena Williams’s backhand or Djokovic’s serve. Half the time I sort of see what she’s talking about…just a hint of something that gives it possibility. I guess that’s what makes her really good with these kids. She’s so sincere.

  I stand in the woods just beyond the cabins waiting for Josh to come out and do his thing. I realize how stupid this is of me. I’m jeopardizing Avery for a kiss. But it’s not like any part of me wants to turn back at this point. We’ve got the whole summer ahead. Realistically, I know there’s no way I’m not kissing her for the rest of this summer. The door opens, and Josh emerges. It’s time.

  Josh knocks on the door of Carlyn’s cabin, and after a moment’s discussion, Carlyn wraps her arm around her middle, closes the cabin door behind her, and eases down the steps. She starts walking toward the pavilion, but Josh redirects her toward the woods, pointing at me.

  Her face scrunches up in confusion, and I experience a split second of fierce regret and anxiety, until I remind myself that I’ve done this a million times. Well, tens of times. I’ve had plenty of first kisses. This one is no different. My stomach answers my brain with a flock of freaking hummingbirds trying to wing their way to the moon, apparently.

  Her features relax into a smile as she diverts her gaze onto the ground, tucking that lock of hair behind her ear, even though it’s pulled into a ponytail. H
er nervousness lifts my ego enough that I believe I can pull this off, and I stand with my legs apart in a faux-confident, swagger-filled stance.

  Now that she spots me, I take a few steps backward into the woods. The light between our cabins is enough to illuminate a football field, so if we’re going to avoid getting caught, we need to be discreet. She keeps checking the cabin behind her as she walks my way. When she gets a few feet from me, I turn on what I hope comes across as charm.

  I pocket my hands in my shorts so she’ll feel more comfortable and not like I’m going to pounce on her. “Hey.”

  She glances around, avoiding looking at me for too long. “Hey.”

  “I got your note.”

  She nods, focused on a mossy stone by our feet. “Mm-hmm.” Her voice is lower than usual, sleepy.

  I pull a hand out of my pocket and take hers. I rub my thumb along the soft bed of her palm. Her body quivers as she lets out a deep breath. “Josh said Nancy wanted to talk to me,” she says.

  “Josh lied.”

  She looks up at me with those hazel eyes, her chin still lowered. “You let a thirteen-year-old do your dirty work?”

  I shrug. “Whatever works, right?”

  She smiles, just a little. “You’re hopeless.”

  “You’re not walking away.”

  Her smile widens, and she looks back down at that stone. “I’m not a very smart girl.”

  “Now, we both know that’s a lie.” I wait her out just a bit. “Last chance to run. I won’t bug you about it ever again if you do.”

  She meets my gaze, still smiling. “Now, we both know that’s a lie.”

  I shrug, containing my own grin, and then remove my other hand from my pocket and lift her hand from off her stomach, taking it into mine. I pull her a step toward me, and she concedes. I close the gap between us, and she bears her gaze into mine, her chin still lowered, the corners of her mouth tipped slightly upward in a grin. I let go of her hand, lift her chin so our mouths can meet, and I go for it.

  As my lips brush against hers, my chest expands with this cloud of heat like the temperature out here just rose a few degrees. I ease my hand around and cup her neck as we kiss, my other hand moving to the small of her back, wanting to show her I’m this experienced guy who has complete control of what we’re doing here, when in reality touching her body with my hands and my mouth is making me weak in ways my confident brain can’t compute.