xxxx
Hudson tried to move but pain exploded in his ankle while his head ached. He experimentally opened his eyes to find thick brown curls half blocking his vision. It was hair. Really great hair that smelled of apples and coconut. And the weight on his chest was warm and soft. Was he dead?
If so, it was pretty good. Apart from the pain.
And then the weight was gone as Via Mackenzie scrambled to her feet, jumping away from him like a demagnetized piece of steel. Her huge silvery gray eyes glared at him accusingly, as if he’d ruined something great.
Okay, not dead. Just another regular day.
Hudson Trent. Ruining things for the last sixteen years.
He winced as cold needles stabbed at his ankle and his vision blurred. He shut his eyes and waited for the spinning to stop. He wanted to puke. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. He couldn’t sink much lower in Via’s estimation.
Finally the nausea passed and he eased himself up into a sitting position as Via brushed bark and dirt from her white shorts. Streaks of blood dotted her palms, and there was an angry slash along her calf. None of which hid the fact she had amazing legs.
“I bet you think this is hilarious,” she said, punctuating each word.
“Yup. It’s a nonstop laugh-fest,” he retorted. “Totally worth getting knocked over for.”
“I wouldn’t have been up the tree if you hadn’t turned up here. So, if you think I’m going to say sorry, you have another think coming.”
Please. He wasn’t that delusional.
In the last two years she’d made her feelings for him painfully obvious.
He didn’t blame her. The science fair was a disaster, and his fourteen-year-old self had been even more clueless around gorgeous girls than his sixteen-year-old self. Not that talking to her had been an issue, since Via had refused to even be in the same room as him.
Or camping ground.
To think that he now had to face another two weeks of her continued disdain.
Thanks, Dad.
His father had called last night to tell him about the change of plans. As in, Hey, son. Lexi and I are still in Washington. My fault, since I kind of, sort of forgot it was my turn to have you. You don’t mind another two weeks with Ruth, do you?
He knew Via wouldn’t be happy about his extended stay. Then again, neither was he. Being stuck at some lousy summer camp with his aunt, while his kid cousins followed him like he was a circus act, was hardly his idea of a good time.
Still, it was done now.
He gritted his teeth as another stab of pain shot up his leg. He tentatively tried to put some weight on it. Mistake. He sat back down, his head still swimming.
“I’m going now, and don’t think of following me.”
Not even if I wanted to.
Without another word, she marched off. Leaves were stuck in her curly hair, and a smudge of dirt was on the back of her shorts. He wanted to look at her legs some more, but spots danced in front of his vision, so he lay down on the ground and shut his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
Then he groaned as footsteps returned and the faint scent of coconut once again caught in his nose.
Thanks, universe. I didn’t think I’d quite used up my humiliation quota for the day.
“Go away, Via,” he said, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Why are you still lying on the ground?” she said, ignoring his request. “Is this some pathetic way to make me feel sorry for you?”
“You busted me,” he said, and opened his eyes. She was still standing there. Her shoulders were stiff, but there was a tentative expression on her mouth, as if weighing up her options.
“Did you hit your head? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three, and no, I didn’t hit my head,” he said, not wanting to admit he’d busted his ankle. He was hardly sports guy of the year but, even by his low standards, this was pathetically lame. “I’m fine. You can go and hide from me. I’ll even give you a head start.”
She didn’t move. “Prove it. Stand up.”
They’d been friends once. Long enough for him to recognize the stubborn set of her jaw when she was determined to get her own way. It usually only came out when she was debating. But apparently she was making an exception.
He gritted his teeth and put his good ankle down on the ground, then used his hands to lever himself up. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he was standing.
“There. Happy?”
“Thrilled. Why are you only standing on one foot? Is this some kind of—” She broke off and her gaze travelled down to his ankle, which was still throbbing. Color stained her neck, and she gave him an accusing glare. “You really hurt yourself?”
Yup. Now it was final. He should forget about becoming a mechanical engineer and write a book instead. Hudson Trent’s Foolproof Tips for Impressing Girls. Sure to be a bestseller.
“I liked it better when you were running away from me.” He grimaced, trying to calculate the possibility of a multiverse storyline taking over and destroying this current situation with a paradoxical eraser.
If he’d gone canoeing it all could have been avoided.
“That makes two of us,” she muttered, and then stepped forward, her shoulder brushing against his arm. He swallowed. The main problem with having a crush on someone who hated his guts, was trying to get the message to the rest of his body.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” She pressed her shoulder closer. She was shorter than him, and her hair tickled his jaw. Then her hand slid around his waist. “Even though technically this is more your fault than mine, I can’t exactly leave you here.”
“Correction. Yes, you can,” he said, trying not to think about her hand around his waist. Sure he’d kissed a few girls over the years, but
