Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Dedication
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- RESOURCES
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
My knee is already bouncing. It was one thing when I had the skateboard to distract me, but it’s another entirely to have only nerves and cocoa to get by with.
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“You’re going to love it,” she says, but her enthusiasm has waned a little. Like some of what we had was lost the moment our fingers disconnected. I bite the inside of my cheek and let the silence settle over us. Just getting her here seemed so impossible twenty-four hours ago, and now that she is here, I don’t know what to do.
“Is this a place you hang out?” I ask, desperate to break the silence. She pulls her coat off, draping it over the back of her chair. Her giant chunky headband is still on, though, and it’s kind of weirdly hot.
“Are you asking me if I come here often?” she asks, dropping her voice a few octaves at the end.
“Something like that.”
She flicks a discarded straw wrapper back and forth between her fingers. “Pretty much. We’re friends with the family who owns this place.”
A waiter comes out of the kitchen and from behind the counter. Peak looks at him, her eyes going wide.
“Frankie!” she shouts, jumping up to pull the guy into a hug. He’s huge, taller than my dad, and built like a linebacker. He’s also carrying a tray with our hot cocoa on it, which he somehow has managed not to spill.
“JuJu!” he says, and he looks so happy I almost want to trip him. He’s staring at not-quite-my-girlfriend-but-also-not-not-my-girlfriend like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Who is this guy? And then I know.
This is the other shoe, and it’s ready to drop.
“Here, give me that.” She reaches forward to take the tray, but he holds it back.
“It’s hot, JuJu,” he says, like his instinct is to protect her, to care for her, and how many nicknames does one girl get? One from everybody, probably.
The guy—Frankie, she said—lumbers closer to the table, and I slouch in my seat. He’s not graceful; he just . . . is.
It’s whatever. I’m not jealous.
He sets the tray down and then turns back, wrapping Peak in a hug so tight she coughs. “I’m so glad you’re here!” he says, his voice booming. Something tells me this one doesn’t have a quiet setting.
“I didn’t even know you were here!”
I slide my chair a little farther away, feeling like I’m intruding on something private.
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“I got back late last night. I was actually going to head over to your place in a bit. I thought you’d still be sleeping!”
Peak shakes her head. “You got home yesterday, and your mom already put you to work? Where’s Martha? We need to have a word.”