Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance (2 page)

“Kayla?”

I shake my head and try to concentrate on getting the ball to him. But that’s hard. Especially since he’s so droolable.

Pulling my arm back, I take in a huge lungful of air. Maybe he’ll see my amazing throw and fall smack into the ground in love with me. He’ll drop the football at my feet and kneel in front of me, professing he knew all along he should’ve been with me and not my best friend. And Reagan won’t be mad. She’ll say she won’t stand in the way of soul mates. And love will conquer all!

I chuck the ball forward. It does this funky wobble-type thing and lands about five feet shy of Talon and about a million feet to the right.

I guess love will conquer another day.

A laugh echoes through the stadium. I’m about to yell at the yahoo to leave me the hell alone because I’m a freaking beginner, but it’s Reagan. And her laughter isn’t directed at me. It’s directed at Wesley. He’s got his guitar out and he’s tossing his head around like he’s in one of those scary hair bands—even though he doesn’t have the hair for it. His blond strands do nothing but stick straight up. Good strategy, Wesley. Looking like a huge dork and wiggling your head off will be oh so hot.

But then again, I’m trying to impress Talon with my nonexistent football skills.

Almost every time we hang out, just the four of us, I wonder if the two lovebirds catch on to the obvious flirt-fest going on with their best friends. But neither seems to have a dent. Talon’s actually laughing at Wesley’s performance as if it’s not a huge big sign that says, I’m in Love with Your Girlfriend! And Reagan still sends me waves and smiles like I’m not holding the same sign, only I’ve written Boyfriend, obviously.

That’s when the guilt sets in. They don’t worry about it because they trust their best buds not to go after their significants. I suppose when you’ve been friends since diaperhood and
jumped on the same bus to Berkeley, you don’t think about it. And you know, as much as I want to rip that shirt off Talon’s sexy body and kiss anywhere and everywhere he’ll let me, I won’t. At least not until Reagan gives me the thumbs-up. And that may never happen.

“You want to throw some more? Or should we call it a night?”

Talon’s face is right there. His sweaty forehead is pretty much the best thing ever, even though that sounds super gross. To me, it means he’s active. And I like that.

Before I can answer, Reagan shouts from the stands, “Hey, babe! I have to run. Curfew in thirty!”

Translation: “Let’s get out of here and make out in the dorm before we’re caught.”

I have to stop my lip from jutting out.

Wesley doesn’t look too happy either. He’s putting his guitar away, his eyes focused on that and his lips pressed in a thin line. As much as the guy annoys the hell out of me, I so feel his pain.

“Till next time then, Kayla. Remember what I taught you about the grip.” Talon smiles. I nod and walk with him so he can wrap his arms around my best friend.

Wesley hops down next to me just as Reagan plows into Talon. We don’t touch, but we do lightly smile at each other, like,
Yeah, I know this sucks
.

“I’ll see you later, sweetie,” Reagan says, giving me a big hug, then dashes back into Talon’s arms. She doesn’t touch Wesley at all. And Talon doesn’t touch me.

Both of us let out a sigh as we watch them walk away.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” Wesley says, adjusting the strap on his guitar case.

I nod, nudging his arm. “You and me both, buddy.”

“You ready to go home? Or you want to hang out some more?”

Shrugging, I start walking to his car. There isn’t really anybody in the stadium I feel like being around. “Doesn’t matter. What would we do?”

“See a movie, maybe. Cruise. I don’t care. I just don’t want to go home. Don’t want to be alone right now.”

Agreed. Anyway, he’d just drop me off at the dorm and I’d have to wait outside till Reagan and Talon unlock from each other. I go nuts thinking about the visual.

“I’m up for a distraction. Let’s just get in the car and see where we end up.”

He gives me a small smile. One that says he appreciates what I’m doing, but he’s still bummed. I return the gesture.

I guess that saying is true. Misery sure does love company.

(Even if that accomplice drives you bonkers.)

We end up at Stoner Boner Hill—which is our nickname for the place where all these people go to make idiots of themselves. The ones who get kicked out of their dorms or still live at home—they come smoke pot, make out, or, you know … finger-fondle and all that, yadda yadda. Living the dream, I tell you. Until the cops get wise to it all.

Wesley and I use it as a good cover-up because we know
no one
will expect us to be here together. Perfect place for us to eat frozen yogurt from Yogurtland and wallow in the privacy of his minivan.

“Why do you always get mint?” I ask through my mouthful. I go for the suicide yogurt, getting every flavor possible (except mint), along with every topping. My wallet thanks Wesley’s employee discount, because it’d probably cost me about ten bucks a cup, but Wesley gets the standard two-dollar deal. “Isn’t that the equivalent of eating toothpaste?”

He shrugs. “I guess I like my breath to be prepared for
any
thing.” He winks at me, and I force the gummy bear toppings down instead of letting them come back up like they want to.

I shiver and run a hand over my stomach. “Can’t you see I’m trying to eat?”

His laughter is like this big huge bark. Seriously, it could make a person go deaf if they’re too close. “Just sayin’, Mickey, we are in make-out city.”

I shake my head and move my gaze to his teasing face. What an ass for calling me by the name I hate. There were so many McKaylas when I started kindergarten, the teacher started calling us by our last names. But mine is Bradley, and there was a Brad in the class too. So when she asked what she should call me, I said, “Mickey!” like Mickey Mouse because I was obsessed. I regret that name of choice because it became my own sort of elementary school torture. I dropped it when I got out of there, going by Kayla. But it took my parents a bit to kick the habit. Dad called me Mickey
once
in front of the guys and I nearly died.

I try not to growl at him for the nickname. Instead I say, “We both know I’m not the one you really want to be here with. So stop being such a dork.”

“Someone’s moody. Time of the month?”

“I’m serious, Wesley. Knock it off.”

He sighs and dunks his spoon back in his frozen yogurt. “Sorry. I know it sucks. I’m just trying to forget about it.”

And pissing me off makes him feel better, I guess. My shoulders relax, and I scoot over a little on the seat so that I’m close enough to pat his knee. We’re in the same boat, so I suppose I can let the teasing slide, since that’s how he handles it. I mean, he puts up with me stuffing my face with junk food to handle everything.

“You’d think we’d be used to it by now,” he says, knocking into my shoulder.

“And you’d think
they’d
catch on by now.”

His mouth pulls up at the corner, creasing that chin dimple he has. “Nah, we’re brilliant actors. What with you and the drool and the sighing, I’m sure if you keep that up, they’ll never know.”

“Oh, like you’re any better.” I wave my spoon at him. “Pulling out your guitar every time we’re out because apparently that’s an oh-so-sexy idea. She’ll be pouncing on you in no time.”

“And here I thought I was being subtle.”

We give each other halfhearted chuckles, then stare out the windshield. Right when my smile fades, he says, “Wait. Playing guitar isn’t sexy?”

I flick my gaze to him, and the panic in his light hazel eyes almost makes me lose it again. “Oh boy, Wesley. You’ve known Reagan for a year. And
of
her probably longer than that. She’s into sporty guys, not musicians.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to even try to impress her with my athletics.”

“Or lack thereof.”

“Exactly.” He gives me that dimple again. “Besides, Reagan and I have music in common. She sings, I sing. Maybe you should take a page out of my book.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, don’t try to impress Talon by being this damsel in distress who can’t throw a football. He likes girls who are a lot surer of themselves.”

My eyebrows meet in the middle of my forehead. “What? He’s never put off that vibe.”

“Yeah, but the girls he talked about before Reagan were all the same confident type.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Let me guess. I’m not that type.”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

Now there’s an inferno blasting through my face. What the hell does Wesley know? It’s not like he’s the type
anyone
wants. Okay, I’m being a bit harsh, but he cut me pretty deep just now.

“Maybe I should forget it, then. Let him and Reagan get married and start a family and do all that stuff while I find someone else. Then you can take a page out of
my
book.”

He sucks in a large breath, then blows it out in small wisps. I’ve known him long enough
to realize he’s trying not to start a fight. I think I’m too tired for this too.

“Sorry,” I blurt out, grabbing his empty yogurt cup and tossing it in the bag at my feet.

“No, I think you’re right. And that’s what sucks.”

I’m right most of the time, but I really wish I wasn’t now. It’s been one hell of a year. Slow torture by watching the smooching and touching, and even though she’s my best friend, every time Reagan comes to me when she and Talon are fighting, I secretly squeal inside.

And they fight a lot! It’s like a smidgen of hope. But then they kiss and make up and are as happy as ever till the next argument.

I let out a “pfft,” and Wesley cocks an eyebrow in my direction. I shake my head. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“About …?”

“What else?”

“We’re supposed to be distracting each other. Not making it worse.”

“I know, but this sugar isn’t doing anything.” I chuck my cup in the bag. “I’m so damn pathetic.”

Wesley rests his arm over the back of my seat, leaning in, but not in a creeper way. More like a brother wanting to protect his little sister. It’s comforting, but not completely healing. Especially since he’s kind of tugging on a few loose blond curls. I move a little so he’s not pulling my hair.

“No you’re not. It’s hard to see your best friend with someone you love. Doesn’t matter if they’re sad or happy, they’re together. And you wish it was you, and at the same time, you feel guilty for thinking that, because it’s your best friend.”

I nod, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. He said all of that really fast because I know it’s just as painful for him as it is for me.

He gives my shoulder a playful shove. “Wish we could nudge them in the right direction, you know?”

My neck jolts back and I meet his eyes. “How do you mean?”

His eyes close and he shakes his head. “Nothing. I was kidding.”

“No, really,” I press, because he’s got me incredibly curious, “what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I guess maybe make them see what they’ve been ignoring.”

“Which is?”

“Us.”

I blink, trying to get some type of focus on him. It’s dark, so I can’t tell what his expression is exactly, but his jaw is tight and the arm he had around me has abandoned its post and he’s running his palms over the steering wheel like he’s petting it or something.

“It’s stupid,” he says after a very long silence. “I was just thinking out loud.”

“No, wait. Maybe you’ve got something there.”

“Kayla, really, I wasn’t being serious.”

But I am. “Think about it for a second. What if we could pull it off? Make Talon and Reagan see who’s better for them?”

He inhales almost all the air in the car before it comes blowing back out. “They wouldn’t go for that.”

“I’m not saying march up to them and declare our undying love.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That we team up. Work together to break them up and then get them with, you know, us.”

Again he does that stupid inhale-exhale thing, and I’m about to smack him. Doesn’t he see this plan could be brilliant if we do it right?

“We can’t do that. They’re our best friends. There are codes about that type of stuff.”

Yes, but … “It’s not going to hurt anyone, I promise. Think about it—we’ll all be happy. Reagan will realize Talon is all wrong for her, and you are perfect.” I force myself to say the words, because they’ll work in my favor. “She’ll be happy with you. She won’t care about me and Talon because she’ll have you.”

I hit replay in my brain, substituting Reagan for me and Wesley for Talon. He’ll want to be with me so much, he won’t care who Reagan’s with. I’m determined to bring him to the light. We’re totally soul mates. And Reagan and Wesley … well, they may not be soul mates, but they could work. With my help.

“Kayla …”

“Does anyone know Talon better than you do?”

He flops his head back so he’s staring at the roof of the van. “No.”

“And I know Reagan through and through. And the stuff we don’t know we can find out without them getting all suspicious. I can totally help you win her over.”

“You’re forgetting one thing.”

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, challenging him to fight my genius.

“They. Are. In. Love. I can’t break them up just to steal his girl.”

I ignore the big
L
-word he dropped. “You won’t be. You’ll be nudging them in the right direction. Like you said.”

“You’re just rationalizing.”

“Fine,” I spit. “We can keep coming up to Stoner Boner and eating junk until we’re both too sad and too lonely to even want to be in their presence at all. Do you want that?”

“No. But I’m not going to mess things up because of what I want.”

My teeth chomp together for a second while I think of something to say that won’t make me come off as a worse best friend than he is. Because I love Reagan. She’s been my girl since diapers, and I want her to be happy. And Wesley, well … he could make her happy. I mean, he already does when we hang out together. They’re always laughing and telling jokes. If anyone saw the four of us, they’d think those two
were
together.