The Art of Taking Chances Read online

  Nick nudges Bobby’s shoulder. “Regan’s definitely your type.”

  I scoff. This pretty boy? “What type is that?”

  “Smart, on the verge of nerdy. Quiet.” Bobby moans. “And blue eyes. Blue eyes are my kryptonite.”

  My lip curls with disgust at the thought of this guy getting behind Regan’s shield. Not that she would allow it.

  “She doesn’t date,” I deadpan. This guy’s going to crash and burn, and I’m going to enjoy watching it.

  A wolfish smile covers his face. “I’m not going to date her.”

  Nick and Bobby turn toward Regan and Tobi.

  Brea giggles, drawing my attention back to her.

  A couple baseball teammates come to chat, and In between sentences I keep checking on my friends. Relief loosens my shoulders when the girls hop off the tailgate and walk the opposite direction before Nick and Bobby even get to them.

  I laugh to myself. I’m totally satisfied the girls didn’t give them the time of day.

  Four

  Regan

  Tobi’s cousin showed up and called her over to his car, leaving me by myself again. She told me I need to let loose and talk to a guy tonight. I don’t see the point. I’m not going to date anyone.

  Our conversation plays back as I wind through the cars to my perch. I’m not blowing my plan of getting out of this town for some boy. There’s no way I’m going to end up like my cousin, falling in love and getting pregnant before I get to college.

  As soon as I sit down on the tailgate, I notice the guy with the fancy haircut is sauntering this direction. Everything about him stands out. From his thick rimmed glasses to his khaki pants and perfectly rumpled button-down shirt—he doesn’t fit in with the rest of the hicks here. Which isn’t a bad thing, but still, I grip the edge of the tailgate and try to be invisible while I spy on Lane and what’s-her-name.

  “Hey,” A soft southern voice pulls my attention away from the disastrous duo.

  My muscles stiffen. I do my best to give him a small, polite smile, but my eyes quickly dart through the crowd, searching for Tobi or Haylee or Cameron—someone who has the attentiveness to intervene.

  The guy with the southern voice stops inches away. “I'm Rhett. Nick and Brea's cousin.”

  His name catches me off-guard, and I nearly laugh out loud “As in Gone With the Wind?” I ask, glancing at his face. It’s tanned and smooth and looks not so much like a teenaged boy.

  He shifts his feet. “Or do you prefer Ashley?”

  I draw my brows together. “Neither.” Who says this stuff? I kind of like his accent and soft voice, but I can tell by what Tobi would call his pickup line that he must be a jerk.

  “Whew.” Southern Boy wipes the back of his hand across his brow. “I hate that movie.”

  I chuckle involuntarily, amused and confused with this guy. He’s a jerk, Regan. Jerks talk like this, don’t they?

  Movement near Lane catches my eye. Brea acts as if she’s cold and nestles in between Lane and the fire, triggering a twist of my stomach. Ugh! Maybe if she’s cold, she ought to get some clothes on.

  Lane still doesn’t see me, but he sure sees Brea. Who am I to advise Lane on the value of virtue? I’m only his best friend who’s been going to church with him our whole lives. The one whose opinion he respects. Or used to—he’s clearly ignoring me now.

  Southern Boy moves to lean against the taillight of the truck and clears his throat. “My name’s actually, Beauregard.”

  I laugh out loud this time. Okay. He’s a funny jerk.

  His face brightens, causing a strange energy inside me.

  “You're laughing at my name?” Beauregard tilts his head wearing a new sad puppy dog face.

  “I'm sorry.” I chuckle. “I can't help it.”

  If that’s the kind of girl Lane’s into now…well, fine. Laughing at this guy’s a whole lot better than watching Lane ruin his dignity.

  “Hmm.” Beauregard studies me, sending another quiver of energy fizzing through me, and I dart my eyes away from his. “Seriously, though, my friends call me Hook.”

  I giggle. Maybe he’s not a jerk.

  “For real this time.” His dark brown eyes are like lasers on me.

  Something about the way he’s looking at me makes my insides jittery. I fold one arm against my stomach. Maybe I’m getting sick. “Is Hook short for something?”

  He rests his hand on the bed of the truck and leans toward me. “My momma calls me Booker. In junior high, the kids at school started calling me Hooker. It somehow ended up as Hook.”

  I'm feeling light and free to laugh at how truly funny this guy is. He continues making me giggle at almost everything he says.

  He calls to Nick who's standing by the fire, not far from Lane.

  When Nick looks over his shoulder, Booker motions him over, and I catch Lane eyeing me.

  Lane shakes his head, giving me a look of disapproval.

  My eyes shift to the ground, and I swallow down a lump of guilt. It sets heavy in my stomach.

  Why should I feel guilty, though? I’m not the one letting some girl flaunt her half-naked body at me.

  I lift my head and reciprocate Lane’s glare.

  Five

  Regan

  Nick passes the fire on his way over to Booker. I can see him from my peripheral vision, but my eyes stay focused on Lane’s as we duke it out in a silent battle of wills.

  Booker’s voice sounds like a melody when he says to Nick, “Tell this pretty girl what my name is.”

  Heat spreads across my cheeks, and I tilt my head toward the ground to hide my embarrassment.

  “Bobby,” Nick says.

  I look up to Nick and then to Bobby. “What?” I laugh out, unable to stop the laughter rolling through me. This guy is nothing I expected.

  Bobby or Hook or whoever this guy is, thanks Nick, and Nick returns to his place by the fire.

  Southern Boy’s dark locks fall down on his forehead in a wavy clump as he leans toward me, probably making sure I’m still breathing from laughing so hard.

  This smile on my face isn’t going anywhere soon. “Do you lie all the time, Bobby?”

  “No, ma’am. I'm not much of a liar. But I could tell you didn't want to talk to me, so I had to do something to soften you up.”

  I press my lips together and tug a few strands of my mane against my cheek.

  He runs his fingers through his fallen wavy tuft, pushing it back in place. “So you're Regan? Like the president?”

  I look down at my hands fidgeting in my lap. “Yeah.”

  Lane told him my name? Is he trying to set me up? That’s not like him. He didn’t act like it when he glared at me earlier, shaking his head.

  Bobby bows his head. “It's not as unique as Bobby, but it's still a nice name.”

  I laugh again. My eyes scroll up to his eyes from his red Chuck’s. “Are you always this funny, Hook?” After listening to him and taking a really good look at him, he’s got a nerdy, gentlemanlike vibe to him—similar to Lane.

  “May I?” He motions to the spot next to me.

  I scoot over to make more room on the tailgate of Lane’s truck.

  Hook sits too close and leans his lips near my ear. “I'm kind of a nerd.” He watches my expression. “And in case you haven't heard, scientists don't have a sense of humor.”

  I swallow my excitement, turning my gaze away from him to wander through the crowd in hopes of distracting myself. Cam and another guy are sitting in his truck with the cab light on.

  Hook’s fingers graze my hand, and even though it makes me flinch, he rests his pinky finger on top of mine.

  I chance a sideways glance, contemplating what this means. I just met this guy. His gentle grin tells me he’s harmless, but I slide my pinky from under his, calculating a more sage option—parallel pinkies.

  I don't think I've stopped smiling since he started joking with me. “It's obvious you're not from around here.”

  He chuckles, and the s
ound inspires the formation of the word “sexy” in my thoughts. Heat quickly rises up my neck. This guy has a knack for embarrassing me.

  “Nah,” he says, “I'm from Alabama. Not far from Mobile.” He nods to Nick and Brea. “My family drove up for Nick’s graduation.”

  My sight zeroes in on Nick and Brea at the mention of their names. I wish I hadn’t. The taste of jealousy is bitter on my tongue. It’s obvious why guys want to look at her. She’s pretty all over. At least she’s not hanging on Lane at the moment. I do a quick scan of the area for him and breathe easier when I can’t find him. Maybe he’s escaped.

  Six

  Lane

  Brea’s dropping hints she’d like me to warm her up. There’s no way I’m warming her up, no matter what shape or form of heat she’s thinking. While Nick and Joey are swapping “remember when” stories from baseball and school, I’m keeping my eyes on Bobby. There’s something about this guy cozying up to Regan that has me on edge.

  “Lane, dude, you listening?” Nick moves his head in my line of sight, blocking the happy couple I was glaring at. “Remember that double play against T-Town freshman year?”

  I nod as if I’m paying attention.

  Brea tugs on my shirt and clears her throat in a girly tone.

  I look down at her. It’s an automatic reaction, but I’d rather keep my eyes on Regan.

  “I forgot I have a jacket in my car.” Brea looks down at her fingers pinching the edge of my T-shirt. “You want to help me find it?”

  If she likes younger guys, then… “Maybe Joey here can help you.” I step back from her. “I gotta—” my eyes find Regan before telling the guys, “Uh, I’ll be back.”

  I escape into the dark with my pounding heart, wandering aimlessly in hopes Brea doesn’t follow me. Thoughts of Bobby making the moves on Regan is turning me inside out.

  What’s Regan think she’s doing? I scrub my hand down my face with a heavy breath. Why am I so mad?

  I end up at Cam’s truck. Haylee’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs dangling over the edge. Cam and a couple of his basketball buddies are talking beside her. I consider leaving, but I need his help.

  I call out, “Cam.”

  Cam turns toward me. “Yeah?”

  I’m close enough he can see me wave him over.

  Haylee swings her legs over the bed of the truck and climbs down. “Hey, Lane.”

  The guys take off.

  Haylee’s lips twist to one side. “Everything okay?”

  I nod even though it’s not okay. Regan and that guy are definitely not okay.

  Cam joins us at the backend of the truck

  “Hey, uh,”—Haylee takes a step backwards, pointing behind her with her thumb—“I’m going to find Tobi and Regan.”

  Between the awkward silence and the ice coming off me, I don’t blame her for taking off. After Haylee’s gone, I unload.

  “Have you seen Regan with Nick’s cousin?” I rest my forearms on the closed tailgate and bend over, feeling out of breath for some reason.

  “Ah, Nick’s cousin. Yeah. I saw her.” He doesn’t sound thrilled about it either.

  “She’s not supposed to be doing that. She’s not supposed to like guys.” I lift my hands in the air.

  Cam chuckles. “What?”

  How can he joke at a time like this? “She has a no dating rule.”

  “She’s not dating the guy, yet.” Cam rests his arm on the corner of the truck rail. “Where’s he from?”

  “Mississippi or Alabama or something. Did you see how he—he’s—she’s—” I rub the back of my neck and pace in a circle. “She likes him.”

  Cam steps closer to me. “You’re her best-friend, shouldn’t you be happy for her?”

  I turn, stretching my hand toward him, trying to get him to see reason. “She’s breaking her rules.”

  He chuckles. “You know how I feel about the rules.”

  “I know, I know.” I clasp my fingers and rest them behind my head, trying to calm the caged animal scratching at my insides.

  Cam met me before graduation to let me know he’s over rule number three, no dating within our group of friends, and that he wants to ask Regan out. I talked him out of it and then this guy shows up and Regan’s all over him.

  “He’s from out of state. Nothing’s going to happen.” He pats me on the back.

  “He’s into her. Can you go check on her? Maybe get rid of him?” I plead for his help.

  He blows out a long breath. “I’ll go over there. But you’re fooling yourself if you think this guy’s the only one who wants her attention. If you don’t make your move before the end of summer, someone else will.”

  Seven

  Regan

  When I wanted one of my friends to come help me out of this situation with Hook earlier, no one was around. Now that I’m having fun, Cam decides to make sure I’m okay? He probably came over here with the sole purpose to irritate me, as usual.

  Cam strolls away, whistling, but I want to sock him. Instead, I take my seat beside Hook. “Sorry about that. Cam’s—”

  “Hey, I don’t want to cause problems.” Hook slides off the tailgate. “When Lane said you two weren’t a thing, I assumed you weren’t seeing anyone else.”

  “Oh.” I look down to the ground. Lane and I aren’t a thing, but I’m surprised he encouraged Hook. “Well...I don’t date.”

  Hook turns back to me with one brow arched high. “You don’t date?” He leans against the tailgate, inching closer to me. “Why?”

  My stomach does this little quiver thing when I hear his soft drawl. I focus on my fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. He’s going to think I’m crazy.

  I keep my head down and answer, “It probably sounds—”

  “Regan?” An unfamiliar voice interrupts me.

  When I look up and see Brea up close and personal, my whole body tenses—screaming to retreat.

  Brea chomps her gum in my face. “That’s your name isn’t it?”

  I nod, in shock she’s addressing me. Ugh, she’s even prettier up close.

  “Have you seen Lane? He said he’d be right back, but he’s not, so if you did, can you tell me where he went or where he is or something?” she rambles on.

  Brea’s just like…ugh. My muscles were just starting to loosen up after Cam’s spectacle, and this chick drudges up Lane’s ex. Brea is the blonde version of Johanna. Please, Lane. Please don’t do this again.

  Hook answers for me.

  Brea looks down her nose at me and flashes a familiar “don’t even mess with me” look. The same look every one of those girls who think they’re better than everyone else throws at girls like me, trying to intimidate.

  I match it with one of my own, and she leaves. I’ve had plenty of experience with “the look,” but I’m not sure if I can deal with another Johanna.

  Eight

  Regan

  Hanging with Hook was fun and easy until Brea showed up, bringing the nightmare memories of Lane’s ex with her. Now it’s awkward and wrong. And I can’t push aside the fact that I saw Stacey Faniger leading her pack of fork-tongued gossips toward the bonfire. I’ve been bitten by those vipers more than once. She’s the main reason I try to stay away from crowds.

  Going to college in Florida, hours and hours from here, would be so great. I can’t wait to get out of this town and away from the Faniger family fan club. “Tell me more about Eckerd College. I want to know everything.”

  Hook and his talk about college takes my mind off the Fanigers and Lane and his ex in a matter of minutes. He looks handsome in the glow of this new Atlantis he’s telling me about. Eckerd sounds like heaven on earth. Campus right on the beach, sun, surf, science...amazing. I must be dreaming.

  “Regan?” Hook pauses.

  “Yeah?” My mind is floating in my possible future.

  We’re both reclined back, resting the palms of our hands on the truck bed. His thumb grazes the top of my hand, causing my breath to catch in my thr
oat.

  The shadows hide his soft brown eyes. “Would you like to—”

  “Hey, come on.” Lane’s snarly growl startles me, pulling me out of my bubble.

  My body jumps. Epinephrine shoots through my veins, causing my heart to whirl. I look down at the space between Hook and me. Except, there’s not much space. With Lane scaring me and being this close to Hook, I probably look like one of those bulging-eyed cartoon characters.

  Hook slides his fingers over the top of my hand. Now my heart’s never going to slow down.

  I close my eyes and breathe out the words, “Lane. You scared me.”

  Lane glares at me. “Cameron wants us.” He nearly spits the words at me.

  I lean away from his acid-tainted breath, unsure of where this attitude is coming from. Lane chews on the inside of his cheek. What’s he so annoyed at?

  I scowl back at him. “What’s wrong?”

  He folds his arms in front of him, taking the stance as if he’s digging in for the night. He tosses Hook a glare and then turns it back on me. “Are you coming?” It wasn’t really a question.

  I slide off the tailgate. “I guess.” I shake my head, silently asking Lane what his problem is.

  He grabs my hand, squeezing a little too hard, and leads me toward Cameron’s truck. When I glance back to Hook, I’m positive my mouth is gaping open like a fool. I quickly turn back to see where Lane’s hauling me so I don’t trip and become more of a laughing stock.

  “Quit dragging me,” I push out the words under my breath.

  He doesn’t listen.

  Lane finally stops when we're standing next to Cameron's truck near the water's edge. It’s dark, except for the light shining on the water. At least the crowd is back at the bonfire.

  Nine