A shy high school senior jock and a closed-off girl battling an immune disorder fake a relationship to win a social media contest.
Being shy isn't easy, especially when you're the new kid at school. Scotts Valley's football program is subpar compare...
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When Paige said she wanted to surf, I assumed she'd wear a bathing suit, or better a wetsuit, but she answered her door dressed in an oversized Margie's sweatshirt and baggy jeans. Her eyes were beaming brilliantly, and her hair was in two high buns. Cute, but they'd get soggy.
My frown faded her smile. "What?"
"Is that what you're wearing?" slipped out.
I wanted to take the words back, but she didn't look insulted. Instead, she hooked her finger under a black strap under her collar. "I'm wearing a bathing suit."
The part in her hair would burn if she didn't put on sun lotion, and I frowned deeper at her small bag. Mom didn't beach much, but she always packed like we were spending the night. "Do you have lotion in there?"
She blinked, so I pointed at the sun. "Sun lotion? Yeah. I also have some snacks if that's okay."
More than okay. I grinned and held her door to my truck, fighting not to laugh when she climbed in with a grunt. Seatbelt on, she hugged her bag with an uneasy look in her eyes.
"We can do something else if you're not feeling it."
I had no backup plan, but we could come up with one. Having surfed alone all month, I was looking forward to the company, but not at her expense. I wanted her to feel comfortable, and as much as I wanted to say it was because of Pierce's party tonight, I just wanted to know her better.
Paige's buns wobbled with her head shaking. "No, my doctor said the sun is good for my skin, but I..." She bit her lip and looked out the window. "I'm not used to beach exposure, that's all."
"Promise no one will care." I didn't have any proof to back my assurance, but the only attention she risked was getting checked out...which held a new meaning I hadn't considered.
She could get stared at for other reasons. Suddenly, I felt like an ass.
Her tiny smile chilled some of my apprehension. "I want to try. Can't promise I won't flop on my face."
"Everyone does."
Forced to drive home in my sweat-soaked compression gear, I kept the windows rolled down so my truck didn't stink. Spending most of my driving time alone, Paige's presence was nice. She smelled sugary and buttery. Her smile widened when she noticed my sniffing.
"Sorry." I blushed and squeezed the steering wheel. "You smell good."
"I was helping Mom test butter pecan recipes this morning, which may or may not be our snack."
Everything Mom brought home from the bakery was good, but the idea of eating something Paige made seemed more special. "What do you like to bake?"
"Hmm." She cupped her cheek, scrunching her nose. "I don't know. I always make whatever's needed. That sounds so sad, let me think..."
