Page 43 of Crazy for this Girl

LAYNEE: Yes.

CAL: Laynee?

LAYNEE: Yes?

CAL: I’m going to exchange it for an inpatient psychiatric ward if you don’t shut up.

LAYNEE: I hate you.

CAL: Love you, too.

Normally, my family gets here before Cal does by at least by a few days, but this time, my best friend is waiting for me on top of his porch railing, smiling from ear to ear as I yank back on my Dad’s van door and sprint out.

He jumps down, his feet hitting the ground from the dangerously high height because he’s insane, and I don’t stop running up the steep hill to his house, testing the endurance of my legs.

He makes it to me first, almost knocking me back down the sharp elevation of the hill, but his strong arms tightly lock around my back to keep me from doing so.

He’s warm and hard and taller—again. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of how much time has gone by since we were last together, and that I don’t spend enough time preparing myself on how different he’s going to look.

“This is the last summer we get to be away from each other,” he mutters into my hair, pressing his cheek on top of my head. He’s wearing that pine scent that I love, and I breathe it in without him thankfully being able to see me. “When we graduate, I’m coming this way.”

I attempt to pry myself away from him, but his firm lock hold only allows me to peer up at him, which causes him to remove his face from my dome. “You’re moving to North Carolina?”

My pulse quickens in excitement as those pretty greens of his fasten to mine.

“I’m moving to wherever you are or staying at.”

“Really? Are you serious?” I try to wiggle out of his hold again, but his strong muscles sandwich me to his hard chest which only makes me more twitchy. “Where are you going? Which school?”

“Whatever school you are.”

My brows knit, but excitement continues to brew inside me, almost ready to explode if he answers me how I want him to. “But, you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” My lips pull into a face-splitting smile, which causes his own as he unwraps himself around me to my utter dismay. “Your mom is watching. I’m already on her shit list.”

Oh, yeah.

Stepping back, I get the first non-sprinting look at him and inwardly swoon. Those dreamy moss green eyes stare intently back at me. His dark brown locks are a tad longer and messily styled on top of his head, and that prominent nose stands between two flawless cheekbones.

I swear, if I look too hard or long, I’m going to melt.

He’s more handsome than any member of a boy band. His body is just perfectly built from all that football, and I can’t help but just stare.

“You’ve always been on there,” I surmise through a weak chuckle, shoving back how attractive the California air makes him look each and every summer. “So we care at this point?”

“Touché.”

I look down at his pockets expectedly, not forgetting what he teased me about for months. “So, where’s my present?”

He chortles deeper, sounding so much older it seems than the first summer we met. He’s almost a grown man, about to turn seventeen, and I feel like I’m fourteen again—uncoordinated, odd, and still waiting for my boobs to grow in. “Seriously? You haven’t been with me but two minutes and you’re already asking me for handouts.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? You handing out my gift?”

“Is that all you’ve been thinking about?”

I smile nice and wide, batting my eyelashes like a little brat. “Yes.”

“Do you bounce, Laynee?” My eyes slit at his sudden question. “Because I’m about to push you down this hill.”

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