Page 9 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Tracey,” I cut in.

“Yes?”

“Breathe.”

She blew out a cloud of hot air. “Okay.”

“Just be yourself, and if that’s not enough, screw Reggie. There are other guys in this world.”

She snickered. “That’s easy for you to say. Guys are throwing themselves at you daily, Shay. Not everyone was born freaking flawless.”

I didn’t respond to her comment, because Tracey always said stuff like that, and it always left me feeling weird. I didn’t want to be known just for my looks, but it felt super fake and annoying to say something like that. I knew I was attractive, but for some reason, I was ashamed to admit it even though it wasn’t like I’d given myself my looks. It was the least interesting thing about me.

I’d preferred guys be into me for my creativity, my humor, or my intense knowledge of all thingsCharmed, not just because they thought I looked hot.

I was blessed with my mother’s genetics. Mima called it our Martinez gift. I swore, my grandmother looked as if she were closer to forty years old as opposed to sixty. We were blessed with youthful-looking skin. Dad always joked that Mom had me all on her own, and there wasn’t an ounce of him in me. “That’s definitely my earlobe,” he’d comment, “and no lie, that’s my left ring finger.”

I had Mom’s deep chocolate eyes and her full lips. My hair was curly and charcoal black, and my body had the same curves as my mother’s, which guys seemed to like about me. But those very features were also a deterrent for me when it came to liking boys. If one of the first things they mentioned about me had to do with my body, I knew it would never be theirs to have.

“You’re more than your body, and only the ones who notice that are allowed to have you in that way,” Mima always told me, a message I was sure she’d also told Mom when she was a teenager.

Tracey and I walked into the party, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I’d done it. I’d crossed the entrance into Satan’s den and lived to tell the story. And, shockingly, I wasn’t set on fire. Angels like me weren’t supposed to dance in the same ring as the Devil.

A comfort washed over me as I looked around the room and noticed every person was someone I’d call my friend. That made it easier. I could be myself and feel fine knowing my people were around me.

“Look, there he is!” Tracey whisper-shouted, nudging me in the arm. She nodded her head toward the fireplace where Reggie was hanging out with a few of the guys from the football team. He had a beer in his hand and was laughing, probably using that Southern accent of his that made half of the student body lose their damn minds.

“Let’s go say hi,” I offered, and Tracey tensed up. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Trace, come on. It’s not like he bites, and if he does, it will probably feel good,” I joked, pulling her forward.

As we approached the group, the manly conversation stopped, and the guys smirked our way.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t trouble,” Eric remarked, eyeing me up and down. “And trouble’s trouble,” he said, whistling low at Tracey and me.

I smiled wide and nudged Eric in the side. “Hey, buddy. I was hoping I’d see you here so I could roll my eyes a bit tonight,” I teased. Eric and I had dated for a bit, and by dated, I meant we’d kissed a total of three times before he told me he’d be more into it if I had a penis in my pants. Fair enough. Eric hadn’t come out to anyone other than me, though, and his secret was safe. The best thing we’d gotten out of our five-month relationship was a solid friendship.

Yes, we’d dated five months and only kissed three times. Red flags should’ve gone up a lot sooner for me, but when you have your first boyfriend, you don’t really overthink the situation.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eric commented, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I’m feeling extra annoying tonight.”

Tracey stood still, seemingly nervous and feeling out of place. She was drowning in her own self-doubts, and like the good friend I was, I was determined to get her to shore.

“Hey, Reggie, you any good at beer pong?” I asked.

“Only the best,” he said cockily, and I swore I saw my friend swoon just from those three words. While he wasn’t my cup of tea, I had to shake it off in honor of Tracey.

“Well, Trace here is a reigning champion herself. She’s never lost a game.”

Reggie turned to Tracey and cocked an eyebrow. Jesus, even his brows were cocky. “Is that so?”

“Well, er, yeah, I guess. I’ve never lost a game?” Tracey stammered, making it sound like a question. My poor, nervous butterfly. If only she would spread her wings a bit, she’d remember she could fly.

“It’s true. You guys should team up and get a tournament going. It could be fun,” I suggested.

Reggie shrugged. “Yeah, that could be fun. Let’s go grab a drink and get a game going. Your name’s Tracey, yeah?”

Her cheeks turned redder than an apple. “Yes, Tracey with an E, not that it matters, because the E is silent when you say it, but my mom thought—”

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