Page 19 of Crazy for this Girl

That Cal from last summer is not Cal from this one.

I could barely get away with going to my Winter Formal with a date this year, so God only knows what she has planned this year to humiliate me. She had to have the only boy who has ever asked me to be his date for anything, Kyle, over for dinner twice and embarrassed the crap out of me when she started asking about what his parents did for a living, what did he plan to go to school for, and if he’d be able to provide for me.

Who in the heck thinks of providing for someone at fifteen? Never mind that he was my first ever date, but Mom just had to go overboard with her prying and interrogating. The kind that I expected from Dad. And to top it all off, she did this before the dance.

I'm surprised Kyle didn’t conveniently come down with an incurable disease just to get out of going with me.

“How’s Jenny?” I blurt out before deciding it’s a really bad idea.

It’s the most recent girl he mentioned in his second to last letter, and the furthest thing I want to think about.

So, why I mention it only proves I’m going to be an idiot again this year.

My worse fear is some chick who’s waiting for him to replace me. Jenny is some girl he began dating, who has short blonde hair, beat up a cheerleader at their last game because she made fun of her friend, and can swing a baseball bat like Ichiro Suzuki.

I had no idea who that is, but I assumed he was an amazing player because Cal was enthusiastic about it in his letter. She sounded perfect.

And I sound jealous.

“Broke up,” he quips indifferently, then shakes me, dismissing any more talk of her. “You got your bathing suit?”

My nose wrinkles because I’m definitely not going to be wearing a bathing suit in front of him. That’s one thing I don’t miss, the self-consciousness that I always seem to have especially now that Cal is back within my sights, and I roll right back to before because it’s not much of a problem at home anymore.

I’m not a California girl.

My hair is currently pulled into a half ponytail, and I only have mascara on because Mom won’t notice it unless she really stares at me. I’m wearing frayed jean shorts that I’ve had for years, and a baby pink tank top. Not bikinis and tight clothes that shows off a perfect tan.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s hot as balls out here. Let’s go—”

“Shhhh.” I squeeze his waist. “My mom will hear you.”

His brows snap together. “For saying balls?”

“Cal.”

He laughs as we get to the top of the wooden stairs to my porch. “You know I’m already on her crap list, Lay. She can’t stand me. What’s one more thing?”

“It’s only because you’re a boy.”

“Then maybe we should keep our clothes on for now until she gets used to me again and go listen to music. You got your iPod?” I nod, trying to shove away his clothes comment because I can only imagine what’s under his shirt this year. “Then let’s listen to what you have for me, so I can either give you a pat on the back for a job well done or tell you to burn your whole device.”

“Hey!” My neck snaps up to meet his face. “I have songs on here that you sent over.”

“All of them?”

“Well...no. You have to buy the music, and—”

“You know damn well you don’t have to buy the music.” He guides me off the porch as we hit the grass and walk over to our normal spot on my family’s boating dock.

“You do if you don’t want blacked-out SUVs parked out in your front lawn.”

He waves a dismissive hand in the air, and I notice that it’s bigger too. “That’s just to scare people.”

We get down to the dock, and Cal promptly sits down, waiting for me to get my iPod out and hand over the other half of my headphones for him to listen like we always do.

The moment I throw on The Anthem by Good Charlotte, he’s already giving me a dirty look.

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