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Authors: Hailey Abbott

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BOOK: Boy Crazy
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She waited until he turned around, and then she let out the laughter that had been fighting to escape. She wiped her mouth, wrinkling her nose a little bit.

Oh well. They weren’t supposed to be looking for soul mates.

One down, nine to go!

I
don’t know why today is so slow,” Billy said, leaning over the counter at the bike shop. He sounded as annoyed as Cassie had been feeling all morning. “I consulted the runes last night and I thought they were telling me this would be a momentous day. Maybe my chakras are blocked. How do your chakras feel?”

Cassie looked up from her seat in the “business center”—what Billy called the desk and computer he’d tucked into a space barely big enough to be a supply closet. She’d spent the morning trolling the Internet to pass the time, catching up on old television recaps and reading articles on Jezebel, not to mention Twittering incessantly about how slow work was. It was hard to sit
around when she was used to spending her mornings biking. It was actually painful.

“My chakras are fine,” she said, rolling her eyes at Billy. She sighed. “It doesn’t make any sense that we’re not busy. It’s a beautiful day!
Everyone
can’t want to shop, can they?”

Billy’s eyes crinkled up in the corners when he smiled, as if his skin wanted to be out in the sun even when he was indoors.

“Tourists,” he joked. “Always pains in the ass.”

Cassie laughed appreciatively. Getting to know Billy as more than just her mother’s old friend had been one of the extra perks of her job so far. She’d always thought that he was kind of weird, what with the long ponytail and the layers of necklaces, to say nothing of the tie-dye and the Grateful Dead obsession, so she hadn’t expected him to be
funny.

“Why don’t you head off to lunch early?” Billy said now. “No point in you sitting around here if you don’t have to. Go flirt with the divers down at Casino Point.”

“Ew,” Cassie said, laughing. “Do I look like I need dating advice?”

“I’ve been dating for almost thirty-five years,” Billy retorted. “What I don’t know about dating isn’t worth knowing.” He grinned, and Cassie wondered—not for the first time—if there was more going on with the equally crunchy baker lady across the street than he let on.

“And last I checked, you were still single,” Cassie pointed out, standing up. “So the dating isn’t working out too well, is it?” She decided not to mention that she’d noticed how happy Billy got whenever Roberta dropped by with special deliveries of scones.

“Depends on whether you think the purpose of dating is to find someone and settle down, or simply to date,” Billy said with a wink. Then he shooed her out of the shop. She heard him crank up the stereo behind her. It sounded like Pink Floyd, which always meant Billy was feeling blue.

Cassie thought about Billy’s questionable wisdom as she walked down the street toward Crescent, which she could see was bustling with tourists—none of whom wanted a bike tour, apparently. She laughed a little bit when she realized how warped she was. Her friends would rejoice if they somehow didn’t have to work for half a day, and here she was moping about it. She was certifiable. This was summer! She was supposed to want to slack off and laze around.

Cassie laughed at herself again. That wasn’t her at all. She liked to
do
things. She’d never understood how people could just lie on a beach all day. She got bored after half a magazine or three songs on her iPod, whichever came first. She would much rather go on a long hike. Just as much sun, without the tedium of lying still for hours, doing absolutely nothing.

She reached Crescent and stood still for a minute, taking in the breeze off the bay and the clank of the riggings on the boats on their moorings. Did she want to walk up toward Casino Point, as Billy had suggested, and ogle the scuba divers at the underwater dive park? Or did she want to relax at her favorite café?

She decided to split the difference and do both—after all, she didn’t have to be back at work for almost two hours. So she headed toward the dive park, half for the hot guys in tight-fitting scuba gear, and half because it was a nice walk and she still felt jittery from all the sitting still she’d done so far that day.

She had walked a little ways down the street when she stopped to look out over the harbor at the cruise ship sliding into view. It looked like it could scoop up the whole of the town of Avalon and carry it away, or maybe the whole island of Catalina. It was like a floating city. It was somewhere between monstrous and amazing.

Assuming it wasn’t there to devour the island, Cassie hoped it was filled with people who thought an afternoon bike ride was the perfect way to spend their vacation.

Excited about the prospect of riders, Cassie decided to skip Casino Point—and any potential hot diver dates—in favor of a hearty lunch, so she could hurry back to the shop ahead of any possible customers.

She turned back around and saw Trey standing there,
maybe five feet away from her. Obviously following her.

He smiled—that devastating crook of his mouth, down in the corner of his lips.

Cassie felt her stomach do a backflip, as though his smile were connected directly to her body. She told herself that she wasn’t thinking about kissing
him
specifically. It was a side effect of Project Kiss—she was always thinking about kissing. That sexy smile had nothing to do with it.

But he was still standing there. Watching her. He silently mouthed, “Hey,” in her direction and raised an eyebrow. If she didn’t stop staring soon, she was pretty sure her entire body would start to show the blush she could feel rising to her face. She didn’t know what to do.

So she decided not to do anything. She frowned in his general direction and then walked off toward her favorite lunch place like she didn’t notice he was there. At first she felt small, mean, and even rude. But then she remembered what Greta had said. She remembered his reputation. And that made her feel better about ignoring him. Like she was somehow ignoring him not just for her own sake, but for that of all the girls whom he’d played in the past.

She felt her stride pick up, like the power of not being made a fool of was rocking through her.

Cassie’s timing was perfect. She walked into her fav
orite café, nestled into the corner of a building that looked out over the harbor, just as the cruise ship docked. That meant she would get in ahead of the crowd that would soon be fighting for the best lunch spots all up and down Crescent. She chose a table with a view and smiled gratefully at the cute blond waiter when he presented her with her preferred iced tea without her having to order it.

“You’re in here a lot,” he said. “I like to take care of my regulars.” He leaned against the table, grinning down at her. He was tall, and he filled out his white T-shirt almost too perfectly. His blond hair was a mess of curls, and his eyes were almost as blue as the Catalina sky.

“I work over at Billy’s Bikes,” she told him. “You’ll probably see me just about every day—I love the food here.” She sighed happily. “The Caesar wrap is like a gift from the gods!”

“I’ll tell my boss,” the waiter said, and then leaned in closer, pitching his voice low. “He’s a complete diva about the food, so it’ll score me some points. Always a good idea, since I can never manage to get here on time.” He laughed. “I like my sleep.”

“I’m Cassie,” she told him, because she needed a Catalina friend—especially if Trey Carter was now following her around. “And I’m happy to help you score points.”

“Ryan,” he said, smiling so she could see his adorable dimples, one in each cheek.

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “You’re my first Catalina summer friend! So far, I’ve basically only hung out with Billy from the shop, who’s nice but like fifty years old, and the people who take my bike tour.”

“Unacceptable,” Ryan said with a laugh. “You need to come hang out at the coffeehouse up on the hill sometime.” He waved in the general direction of the hills and named an address. “Farther from Crescent and therefore fewer tourists. Nothing but summer friends!”

“Billy thinks I need to hang out down at Casino Point,” Cassie said. “Why am I not surprised that his advice is out-of-date?”

“Oh, to flirt with the cute diver boys?” Ryan asked. He grinned. “A tried and true Catalina pastime. One I indulge in myself every now and again. You definitely can’t hide any flaws in a wet suit. It’s almost as much fun as going to West Hollywood on a Saturday night.”

Well, that explained the utter lack of flirtatiousness in their conversation. Which had been practically unheard of in the ten-boy summer so far! Cassie probably should have guessed why even before he mentioned West Hollywood, L.A.’s trendy gay neighborhood.

“I must be missing out if
everyone
thinks the dive park is the go-to hot boy destination,” she said. “I almost went there today, but opted for eating instead. Obviously a big mistake.”

“Wet suits,” Ryan said, enunciating each consonant. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Wet suits molded to hot bodies. End of discussion.”

He walked over to another customer, leaving Cassie laughing to herself.

The café filled up quickly. The crowds pouring off of the giant cruise ship made a beeline for the shops and restaurants along Crescent Avenue. Cassie saw Trey walk in, and made a huge show of studying her menu when he walked by, as if she hadn’t even noticed him.

But she could feel him—his nearness. It was like an infuriating prickle on the back of her neck. Why was he on Catalina again? What did he want? Why was he following her around when she was trying to ignore him? Cassie was torn between the part of her that wanted to see his behavior as romantic—and the part of her that grimly repeated Greta’s words over and over, trying to make them sink in. Greta wouldn’t lie. Trey was exactly what she said he was, and the fact that he had kissable-looking lips just made his games more regrettable.

If only Cassie didn’t have to practically chant it to herself to get it through her apparently thick head.

The most embarrassing part was that she
wanted
to turn around and let her eyes drink him in. She wanted to talk to him again and see if she would feel that same spellbinding ease all over again. Or, at the very least, she wanted to go over and prove, once and for all, that the
night that had seemed so perfect had just been about the thrill of the first party of the summer and the fact that Cassie had already been so happy. It hadn’t been about him at all. It didn’t mean there was any particular chemistry between them.

Ryan came back to her table, and Cassie was grateful for the distraction.

“I’m going to change it up and order the Southwestern Salad,” she told Ryan. “And please don’t feel you have to skimp on the buttermilk dressing.”

“That’s the best part!” Ryan agreed. He scribbled on his pad and then leaned close to Cassie again. “And speaking of cute boys…”

“Yes?” she asked, laughing. “Aren’t we always speaking of cute boys?”

“We should be,” Ryan murmured.

“Then please,” Cassie said, gesturing grandly. “Go ahead.”

“The one at the table behind you is staring at you,” Ryan said. “Has been since he walked in, all smoldering and dark-eyed. Very Chuck Bass, but with a much more summer-friendly wardrobe. I approve.” He paused. “And he paid for your lunch.”

Cassie stared up at Ryan’s blue eyes, her stomach twisting. She was touched for about thirty seconds. But why would Trey buy her lunch? What game was he playing?
Oh, right,
she reminded herself.
This
is
his game.

She knew that Trey was staring—she could feel it. But she knew he couldn’t see her face. So she rolled her eyes so only Ryan could see. Then, she reached out and put a hand on Ryan’s well-sculpted arm and let it roam a little bit upwards in a caress. She also tossed her head the way she’d seen Greta do—in fact, she’d studied the way Greta did it. Toss the head, then gaze adoringly. Cassie did both—and then let her fingers roam even farther, testing out the shape of Ryan’s bicep. Which was, as it happened, maybe the most perfect bicep she’d ever touched.

Ryan blinked down at her for a moment.

“You’re silly,” Cassie said, in her flirtiest possible voice. “You’re the only one I ever look at.”

“Of course I am,” Ryan said smoothly, flashing his dimples. He collected Cassie’s menu in one swoop, then leaned over to take her face in one hand. He pulled her close, then kissed her sweetly—lingeringly—on the forehead.

It should have looked like everything it wasn’t. Cassie was pretty confident that it had, especially when Ryan glanced at the table behind her and laughed.

Take that, Trey,
Cassie thought in triumph.

She didn’t look around once for the rest of her lunch hour. And she enjoyed every last bite of the food he’d bought her.

T
he party was insane. It was a Friday night in mid-July, and it seemed as if all of Hollywood had turned up, dressed to kill.

Cassie thought it was like something out of
The Hills.
Completely scene-obsessed girls in as little clothing as possible, surrounded by super-trendy boys, all packed into one of this month’s hottest clubs on Sunset.

“How do you know these people?” Cassie asked Keagan, who was sucking on her bright yellow drink through a straw and swaying slightly to the music.

“Not me,” Keagan said. She shrugged. “Greta.”

Greta, however, could not be questioned, as she’d peeled off immediately after they’d arrived, claiming she needed to do some reconnaissance work.

“I would not be surprised to see Heidi and Spencer walk in the door,” Cassie said with a giggle. “And to be honest, K, I don’t know if I’d think that was really cool or horribly lame.”

Keagan laughed. “I hear you,” she said. Then she made a face. “I wish Heidi would walk in here. I have a lot of questions for her. Okay, just one. Why is she still with that loser?”

“Such a controlling jerk,” Cassie agreed.

They were discussing the intricacies of the Heidi and Spencer relationship when Greta strolled back up, a drink in her hand and a noticeably bored look on her face. Of course, the over-it expression only made her look hotter.

“What are we talking about?” she asked.


The Hills
,” Keagan said.

“Heidi and Spencer,” Cassie said. “Specifically, how Spencer is evil.”

“Totally,” Greta said dismissively. “But I think he’s, like, encouraged to act that way. I think they make him. It makes the show better.”

“Are you defending Spencer Pratt?” Cassie asked, laughing. “The most revolting guy alive?”

“I’m just saying that there’s more to it, that’s all,” Greta said. She reached over and slapped the remains of her drink down on the bar. “Are you guys ready to go? This party is a snore.”

“Really?” Keagan looked surprised. “We’ve been here maybe twelve minutes.”

“Plus there are tons of boys,” Cassie pointed out. “And we have a quota to reach.”

“That’s the thing,” Greta said. She sighed. “I’ve kissed all of these boys already.”

Cassie and Keagan looked at each other, then gaped at Greta.

“All of them?” Keagan echoed. “
All
of them?”

“Like—
every single one
?” Cassie asked, in the same astounded tone. “There have to be a hundred people here, Greta. At least fifty of them are guys. You kissed
all
of them?” Surely that was impossible. Surely that much kissing would lead to chapped lips, at the very least. Or would somehow affect Greta a bit more than her nonchalant position against the bar would suggest. She lounged there with one Acne jeans–clad hip jutting out, which drew attention to her long legs and her badass heels. She looked exactly like the vamp she claimed to be. Cassie didn’t know whether to applaud—or be a little bit afraid of her.

Greta shrugged. “Well, all the kissable ones, yeah,” she said. She made a face as she cast a look around.

“Sure,” Cassie said, after sharing another look with Keagan, who only widened her eyes in astonishment. “We can go. Where to?”

“There has to be another party somewhere,” Greta
said. “It’s a Friday night in July in L.A. There should be at least a million parties to choose from.”

“There’s that thing down in Long Beach,” Keagan offered. “Though it’s a little bit of a drive, it could be cool.”

“Ugh, no,” Greta said with a shudder. “Not the heavy metal thing.”

“Some guys I know are in a band,” Keagan explained to Cassie. “
Not
a heavy metal band. They’re playing at this place that we’ve been to before—”

“This sticky, skanky club, ew,” Greta interjected, shaking her head. “And the whole groupie scene is so not us, K. Boys should be throwing their shirts at us, not the other way around.”

“We went to one show three years ago,” Keagan said, again to Cassie. “Greta still hasn’t recovered.”

“That horrible girl threw a beer at me!” Greta cried. “I had
beer
all over me, Cassie!”

“She walked into the mosh pit,” Keagan retorted—to Cassie, though the edge in her voice was all for Greta. “I don’t think she can claim it was a deliberate attack!”

“Deliberate or not, I still had to stand in the shower for three days to get the stink off me,” Greta snapped at her.

Cassie had to do something before her friends got into a brawl right there at the bar—over something that had happened ages ago!

“I know of a party,” she said, which immediately silenced both of them.

“Do tell,” Greta practically purred.

“I really wasn’t planning to go,” Cassie said. “This friend of my ex is throwing it, and to be honest, I was surprised I even got invited. I think he might have clicked on my name by mistake when he was making the Facebook invite, you know?”

“Cassie, please,” Greta said, reaching over and slinging an arm around Cassie’s neck. “Three hot girls at your party is never a mistake, no matter if it’s expected or not. Let’s go!”

 

A half hour later, as they approached what they hoped was the address in Laurel Canyon for the third time—having gotten lost along the twisting mountain roads twice already before finding the familiar Laurel Canyon Country Store and starting over—Cassie was feeling nervous. She wished she could tell Greta and Keagan that she’d changed her mind. But they were both so excited, the near-squabble in the club forgotten between them as they giggled over their summer adventures so far. How could she ask them to forgo a party just because she was suddenly freaking out?

“Why did you pick the name Penelope?” Greta was
asking, laughing so hard as she navigated her sporty BMW convertible down the narrow road that Cassie, in the backseat and staring at the uncomfortably close drop-off into the steep canyon, closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that the car didn’t go over the side.

“I don’t know,” Keagan said, her laugh turning into a little snort. “It was so random! But he couldn’t remember my name at the end of the night anyway, so it was a wasted effort!”

“Did you give him a phone number?” Greta wiped at her eyes. “Because I have to screen all my calls. Like, religiously, at this point.”

“Like you ever don’t screen your calls in the first place,” Keagan scoffed.

Cassie tuned them out. What was she so worried about? Yes, the party was being thrown by Daniel Fletcher’s friend, Gage Pearson. She was astonished to realize she hadn’t thought about Daniel in some time. Not completely forgotten about him, of course. She just hadn’t remembered to be upset about him and the things he could be up to with who-knew-which-girl in Europe. Was that progress?

Cassie let the canyon night air sweep over her. Jasmine and eucalyptus, with an underlying kick of rosemary. The air was just cool enough to be noticeable, but warm enough that Cassie didn’t mind that all she was wearing was the thinnest of T-shirts over a tiny little
skirt. It was another splendid night in her city, and she was up in the glorious Hollywood Hills, where every curve in the road opened up over the endless stretch of lights reaching out to the horizon that, altogether, made up Los Angeles. It was beautiful.

She told herself she didn’t care that she was going to a party at Gage Pearson’s parents’ house. Gage Pearson, who was a great friend of Daniel’s and who Cassie worried would mock her for the way Daniel had dropped her so carelessly. Or worse, pity her. Either way, she came out looking pathetic, and that was completely unfair, because Daniel was seriously old news to her now. But would anyone from Siskiyou Academy—especially buddies of Daniel’s—believe that?

At least her friends would be with her, she thought, trying to relax as Greta parked along the side of the road. She didn’t have to do this alone.

Cassie led the way inside the boxy modern house, trying to rustle up a bravado that she didn’t necessarily feel. After all, if Gage or anyone else from Siskiyou was inclined to pity or mock, she couldn’t let them think she’d been moping around since school ended. Especially since she hadn’t been doing anything of the kind.

The house was already packed with people, most of them congregating around the television in the big family room playing Rock Band, or hanging out by the keg
out back. There was a den with a Ping-Pong table—and a tournament under way. In the vast kitchen, there were sofas surrounding a fireplace at one end and the usual appliances at the other. In the middle of the room, a group of girls Cassie vaguely recognized from school—freshmen maybe—danced in a circle to Katy Perry. Cassie smiled at the handful of people she knew from Siskiyou Academy, made a little small talk with Gage Pearson himself, and was profoundly relieved when everyone seemed as disinclined to discuss Daniel as she was.

Thank goodness.

“Is that a smile?” Keagan teased her when Cassie flopped down next to her on one of the overstuffed suede couches near the fireplace. “You’ve been tense since we got here.”

“Where’s Greta?” Cassie asked. Keagan waved her hand toward the back of the house.

“Some guy named Phil claimed he had a cool tattoo in an interesting place,” she said. “That was pretty much that.” She gazed at Cassie. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“No,” Cassie said. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I was kind of worried that people would think I was pathetic because of the whole Daniel thing.”

Keagan frowned. “What? Why?
He’s
the loser!”

Cassie grinned at the support. “You know how it is,”
she said. She checked over her shoulder to make sure no one from school was near enough to hear her. “Daniel’s like a god to some of these people. And this is his friend’s house, so—”

“Did someone say something?” Keagan demanded, sitting up and scowling ferociously. Cassie knew without a doubt that if she said yes, Keagan would run over and defend Cassie’s honor, no questions asked.

“No one seems to care,” Cassie said, with a big sigh of relief. “Happily. As we walked in, it occurred to me that Gage might have invited me deliberately, you know? Just to mess with me.”

“That would be crazy,” Keagan said, relaxing back against the couch. She snickered. “You watch way too much
Gossip Girl
.”

“Well, nobody turned into Blair Waldorf,” Cassie said, and tapped Keagan’s drink with her own in a spontaneous toast. “Which I think gives us reason to celebrate!”

“Count me in!” Keagan cried.

They decided to celebrate by dominating the Ping-Pong table tournament. They’d been playing together since they were small, so they worked up a natural doubles rhythm, and destroyed the competition. First it was a couple, a super-intense emo guy and his frail, pierced girlfriend. Cassie smashed a serve down the center of the table and had to choke back a laugh when the
girlfriend missed it completely, almost whacking her boyfriend instead.

“Concentrate, Chelsea,” he hissed at her.

“Ping-Pong is a rough sport,” Cassie murmured in an aside to Keagan. “You have to focus.”

They had to stop looking at each other. Every time they met eyes, they started cracking up.

“We rule!” Keagan crowed after a particularly tough game against two sporty-looking girls from the Valley.

“You’re like some diabolical Ping-Pong version of the Williams sisters,” one of the defeated girls groaned.

“We totally rule,” Cassie agreed. “And all this ruling is making me thirsty.”

“I’ll wait here,” Keagan said, and Cassie laughed when she saw that her friend’s attention was fixed on one of the guys who’d been watching them play Ping-Pong. She saw the way he ran his eyes up and down Keagan’s body, and left them to it.

She was refilling her drink from the keg out back when she noticed that one of the guys standing nearby was checking her out. Cassie loved how good that made her feel. Just by being herself, and by not being afraid to go to a party where Daniel’s friends
might
have made her feel like a loser. She would have refused to do that a few months ago. She was different now.

And the different version of Cassie had no trouble checking the guy out in return. He wore a button-down
shirt and scruffy khaki shorts. Half surfer and half preppy, with close-cut dirty-blond hair and a swagger that she couldn’t help but smile at as he crossed to her side.

“I’m Brad,” he said. “And I can’t believe we haven’t been introduced.”

“Well, Brad,” Cassie said with a smile, feeling like so much confidence deserved a little teasing in return, “what makes you think I’m looking to make new acquaintances? Maybe I have too many friends already.”

Behind him, she saw Gage Pearson and a bunch of other guys from Siskiyou watching the interaction, and it gave her another boost. There was nothing even remotely pathetic about her tonight.

“None of them are me,” Brad replied, his grin widening.

Cassie leaned a little closer, and loved it when he did the same, closing the distance between them so she could smell the soap he’d used in the shower. Brad wasn’t tall; he was about Cassie’s height and built like a wrestler—low and compact.

And Cassie knew without a doubt that he’d be the next kiss on her list.

“Okay, then,” she said. She wondered what kind of kisser he’d be—how his mouth would feel against hers. She saw that knowing look in his eyes. “Then I guess you’d better tell me all about you.”

“Everything was boring,” Brad said, his grin widening. “Until tonight. Tonight is when things started to get interesting.”

Talk about lame lines. He was lucky she had a weakness for that beachy-preppy look. Cassie decided to punish him.

“What makes you think I want to waste my time with someone who admits he’s totally boring when I’m not around?” she teased him, angling her body a little bit closer to his. “I already know that
I’m
interesting.”

“Ouch,” he said. He laughed. “I can see I need to bring my A game with you.”

“You mean that wasn’t A game?” Cassie replied, grinning. “Now I’m insulted.” Thinking about games made her think about Trey Carter—but she brushed away thoughts of Christopher Pike books and Trey’s unselfconscious joy on his bike, and concentrated on Brad instead.

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