Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance, Page 2

  “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.

  “Maybe we’re doing them a favor,” I say quietly, slumping back into my seat. It’s a super-pathetic excuse, but it’s all I have. “Because really, have you ever heard Talon talk about Reagan when we’re not together? Has he ever professed his love for her? Because I can honestly say that lately, Reagan only talks about Talon when he’s pissing her
off. And maybe she deserves more than that.”

  The air in the car thickens, and I’m holding my breath waiting for Wesley’s response. I’m hoping like crazy he says Talon is the same way. That he’ll help me with this, even though it’s going to be incredibly difficult to pull off. We can do it if we help each other, and we’ll all be happy campers when it’s over. And Talon and Reagan will be none the wiser.

  He clears his throat, and I clamp my eyes shut preparing myself for the final no.

  “If we do this, we can’t mess things up. We can’t move in on them until they’re broken up and one hundred percent over each other.”

  My eyes spring open, and I nod like a crazy person. “I promise. We’ll be careful. No ruined friendships or relationships.”

  “Except theirs,” he says softly, but I catch it.

  “No. We’ll be helping theirs.” And that’s not some line, even though he probably thinks it is. I really believe it. That we’ll all be a much happier love square if we’re with the right people. And even though Reagan’s been with Talon for almost a year, I don’t see them making each other super happy. Glimpses of it at times, but not like their worlds revolve around each other. Not like they’re in love. No matter what Wesley says, I don’t see it.

  I set my hand on Wesley’s arm resting on the steering wheel. “So, you in?”

  It takes a minute, or maybe it feels like forever, but he finally looks at me with those hazel eyes and blows his dirty blond hair from his face. “I’m in.”

  Progress Report: December 8

  I’m an organized freak, I know. I have to write everything down so I can remember things. Guess I’m a visual person. And this journal is a major risk since my roomie is super nosy. (If you’re reading this, Reagan, I love you, but the fact that you’re reading this just proves my point. Maybe you should stop now.)

  This is progress report numero uno, so, not much has happened except Wesley said he had an idea and to just go with it. I think he’s full of crap, because he wouldn’t tell me what that idea was. Probably serenading Reagan like he does every weekend at open mic night at Phantom’s. Hasn’t worked in the six months since we moved to California, so I really hope he’s thinking of something else. But it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s his plan. *rolls eyes*

  I, however, have a brilliant idea. I’ve got to pack a bag, get a couple of fake IDs, and ask my parents for a huge loan. I mean, plane tickets to Paris—the romance capital of the world—don’t come cheap.

  It involves kidnapping, though, so I suppose we’ll use it as a backup.

  Step 3:

  Dig Up Some Dirt

  (And try not to be too obvious about it.)

  “Love lifts us up where we belong!”

  Reagan’s replaying her Moulin Rouge soundtrack, belting out the song they sing on top of that huge elephant, smiling her big giddy smile she uses right after hot and heavy … Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.

  I slam my pillow over my face and groan, accidentally sucking in one of my wild curls and coughing. She’s too lovesick and loud for seven in the morning. I need my Red Bull stat.

  Wesley and I were out way past curfew. I’m not as strict as Reagan about it, but then again, I’ve never been caught by our RA, Bitchy Brenda, and she and Talon aren’t as sneaky as I am. And Wesley has his own apartment, so that’s a plus. He told me to crash there, but hello, weird! No way in a million years will I ever spend the night alone with Wesley. Aaaawkwaaard.

  But we have a plan! And it’s all going to be set in motion today … as soon as I get my sleepy head on straight.

  Red Bull … where are you?

  The pillow gets yanked from my face, and Reagan’s bright green eyes take its place.

  “We could be heroes, forever and ever!”

  I grunt out a tune similar to the song she’s singing in my ear, but I’m so groggy, not to mention completely tone-deaf, that it sounds like a frog croaking its last croak.

  “Reagan’s insane, for being up this early!”

  She lets out an excited laugh and bounces me on the bed. “Guess what, guess what!”

  Red Bull … I need Red Bull!

  “Talon called me this morning and he said Wes is taking him somewhere today. Isn’t their bromance adorable? So that means I get all day with you. Girls’ day!”

  I rub the sleepiness from my eyes. “Wow, that was fast.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “Huh?”

  Oh, tired Kayla, learn how to keep your mouth shut. I shake my head and sit up. “Nothing.” I yawn. “So, I take it you already have an itinerary?” One thing I love about my girl is she’s totally organized, like moi. It’s also why I’m okay rooming with her. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if I was put with a slob. Probably tear every single blond curl from my head.

  Reagan rolls off my bed and picks up her phone. “Breakfast, chick flick, lunch, salon, shopping, then …” Her eyes get real evil, and I automatically shake my head.

  “No. We’re not going to Phantom’s. No. No. No.”

  She pushes her bottom lip out. “Pwease? It’s open mic night!”

  “Wesley won’t even be there.”

  “You can sing with me.”

  Hell no. “I’ll embarrass myself.”

  “And that’s different from when?” The pillow she grabbed off my face flies across the room. I’m too tired to catch or dodge it, so I let it hit me and fall to my lap. “I’m going to call Julia and Grace, see if they want to meet up with us.”

  I’m not getting out of going to the club. She knows it, and I do too. Wesley really did set me up nicely here. I mean, we agreed to dig up as much dirt as we could, and now I have all day to do so. And seeing her at a club tonight flirting in her Reagan way will help. But I despise clubbing. I have no rhythm, and I can’t flirt at all. Besides, there’s never really any cute guys there. At least not like Talon.

  I push out a sigh. “Fine. But you have to stick to me like glue.”

  She crosses her heart. “Promise. I have a boyfriend, remember? I’ll be your wingman.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  “What do you think? Purple or blue?”

  Honestly, neither, but Reagan has a thing for putting colored highlights in her gorgeous red-brown hair.

  I eye the two pieces of sample hair she has up against her head and rub my lips together. “Um … purple.”

  She tosses the blue strands on the table behind her salon chair. “Yeah, I think so too.”

  “It’s not like you won’t be back here in a month to change it,” I joke. But I can’t really give her too much crap because I love getting my hair done as much as she does. It’s probably the one time a month it actually looks sexy wild.

  Her tongue pokes out and she grabs her phone from her pocket. A smile jumps onto her lips and she starts clacking away.

  “Hey!” I kick her lightly in the shin. “Girls’ day. No texting Talon.”

  Her already naturally rosy cheeks darken in a blush. “It’s not Talon.”

  Who else can make her smile like that? I widen my eyes and stick my head toward her, urging her to spill.

  “It’s just Wes.” She tucks the phone back in her pocket. “But you’re right. No boys.”

  Holy crap, did I hear that right?

  “What did he want?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just my stupid one joke a day.”

  Huh? “One joke a day?”

  “Yeah. He’ll send me a joke a day because, well, you know Wes. He’s goofy like that. It’s stupid, but it always cheers me up even when I don’t need it.”

  Props to Wesley. Wow.

  “How long has he been doing that?”

  She shrugs, spinning around in the salon chair. “I don’t know. Like a few months.”

  “Does Talon know?”

  “Of course.” She shoots me a glare, but there’s still a small smile on her lips. “What’s with all the questions?”

  I close my eyes for a
second and shake my head. “Sorry. Just thought I knew everything about you already.” I laugh, and she does too. But really, what is my problem? This is a good thing. He’s wiggling his way in already. And the way she smiled … hell yes! This will be easier than I thought.

  Still, I can’t help the green monster that wants to burst forth. I do things with Talon, but we don’t have a joke of the day or anything. Except our lame football lessons.

  I have to find a way to connect with him too. And Wesley is my key to it, if he digs up enough dirt today. Which reminds me of what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m blaming lack of sleep for making it so hard to focus.

  “Do you like him or something?” Reagan asks, her eyes growing wide and excited.

  “Who?”

  “Wes.”

  Oh hell no. “Are you kidding? That’s not even funny.”

  She laughs. “You sure? He is cute. Got that blondish hair and that adorable little dimple on his chin. He’s hilarious, and you two spend a lot of time together.”

  “That’s because you and Talon totally ditch us!” Yeah, I could spend time with some of my other friends, but I can’t whine and mope with anyone besides Wesley because they’d all call me a bitch for pining over Talon. That and some of the big mouths—cough, cough, Grace—would go straight to Reagan and spill. So I’m totally keeping this between me and him.

  And if I didn’t know any better, it sounds like she’s into Wesley a lot more than I thought. My heart thump-thump-thumps harder the longer she talks about him.

  Do I even need to give Wesley pointers? He seems to be doing fine on his own.

  “Well, we need alone time.” She grins, and her cheeks darken another shade. A euphoric rush of breath escapes her mouth. “We’re almost at our anniversary. I think I’m going to surprise him.”

  “With what?” I try to say as casually as possible. But I’m trying to find a way to bring the conversation back to Wesley before I get sucked into a Talon-is-so-perfect-and-he’s-mine speech. They don’t happen often, thank goodness, but when they do, it’s like she’s waving a flag that says, Look at me with the sexiest man alive while you have nothing! Not that she means to, but it still feels like that.