Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
The front door of the house blew open.
Her father, Doug Page, exited with his trumpet aloft, heralding Skylar and Robbie’s arrival with a boisterous rendition of the “Star-Spangled Banner” while Vivica, her mother, hustled out into the open behind him carrying a half watermelon full of tinier balled melons impaled by toothpicks. They stopped at the edge of the porch, beaming down at the car in matching red polo shirts and chinos.
“Oh my God,” Robbie said without moving his mouth. “Are they AI?”
“No, but they are about to be freakishly nice to you. Don’t buy it. They are just sizing up the competition.” Skylar smiled and waved through the windshield, while gathering her phone and keys. “From this point forward everything—and I mean everything—you say will be used against you. Do you understand?”
“Show no weaknesses. Ten four.”
“Right. So . . .” The pulse at the base of her neck beat like a hummingbird’s wings. “From here on out, we’re a couple.”
“We’re the couple.”
“Robbie.” She put a hand on his arm before he could open the passenger door, a sweeping sense of responsibility pillowing in her stomach. “If this gets to be too weird or too much . . . either the competition or the pretending . . . I won’t hold it against you to bail, okay?”
“Yes, you would.”
“Yes, I would.”
He reached across the front of the car and traced Skylar’s cheekbone with his thumb, his mossy eyes seeming to catalog her features one by one. “See? I know you already, don’t I?”
“Wow.” She peeked at her parents out of the corner of her eye, noting they were riveted, and nuzzled her cheek into Robbie’s palm. “You might have missed your calling as a professional fake boyfriend.”
“Fake. Yeah.” Chuckling, he took his hand back. “Shall we?”
“Let the psychological warfare commence.”
They climbed out of the car at the same time, meeting at the front bumper where Robbie clasped her suddenly clammy hand tightly within his larger one, squeezing it reassuringly. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.” Skylar took a deep breath. “This is Robbie.”
“Robbie!” Vivica exclaimed, setting down the watermelon on a wicker coffee table and sailing down the stairs, her toned and tanned arms outstretched. She wrapped them around Skylar and inhaled deeply, rocking her daughter, so similar in build and coloring, side to side. And Skylar hugged Vivica back, absorbing the affection, knowing the love was genuine, but also so unsure how to nurture it. “It is such a pleasure to meet you,” Vivica said, breaking the embrace with Skylar to grasp Robbie’s hand. “Welcome to our home—and the ninth annual Page Stakes!”
“Thanks for having me—”
“We should have known our little Skylar wouldn’t take last year’s loss to Team Foul Balls lying down,” boomed Doug, chest puffed. “She went and joined forces with a professional athlete, did she? Fight fire with fire! She got that from me.”
“Sadly, none of our competitions involve skates and a stick,” her mother said with a sweetly sympathetic smile. “Do you have any useful outdoor skills?”
“Here we go,” Skylar muttered, poised to defend him, like a good fake girlfriend.
“Oh, I do.” Robbie sniffed. “But I’m not telling you what they are.”
Her parents traded an impressed look. “We’ve got a live one, honey.”
Doug rubbed his hands together. “Ooh-wee. This is going to be interesting.”
“That’s one way to describe her canoodling with the dude who gave me a sore nose and a black eye,” called Elton, appearing in the side yard. Madden sauntered closer in Elton’s wake, that characteristic broodiness thickening his energy. He seemed to be looking through the assembled group, searching for something that he didn’t find, but then again, that’s how he always looked—and Skylar loved how he looked. Sturdy and patient and somber and eternal. That was Madden.
“Looks like it’s healing nicely,” Robbie commented as Skylar’s brother drew even with the group, Madden arriving seconds later, but hanging toward the back, quiet as ever.
Feeling Robbie’s gaze on her profile, Skylar realized she was staring at her longtime crush and shook herself. “First of all, Elton, the word ‘canoodling’ isn’t for you. Drop it from your vocabulary. Second, please enlighten Mom and Dad as to who threw the first punch.”
Elton waved off the request. “Irrelevant.”
“Spoiler alert. It was Elton,” Skylar stage-whispered to her parents.
“Only because he was harassing my sister.” Robbie’s hand flinched inside of hers at the reminder of the morning they met. For some silly reason, she decided to give him a reassuring squeeze this time. After all, wasn’t he here to make up for his behavior that day? “What is he doing here?” Elton burst out, as if an explanation was long overdue. “Bad enough you kissed him right in front of me, Sky. I’ve actually considered bleaching my eyeballs, by the way—”
“Don’t do it,” Robbie rasped. “Trust me.”
Elton scowled. “Now you’re what? Official?”