Best Foot Forward

By Jolene Buchheit

After one bad experience, Iowa high school senior, triathlete, and fangirl Lucia “Luc” Guzman swore off relationships. Well, that was until Connor Kohlton and his southern accent moved to town. With the help of her childhood best friend, Jax Weber, she discovers her “college only” dating rule may be causing her to miss out on a great guy. Luc's parents have always taught her and her sister to put safety first and she applies that rule in all areas of her life; her training, her work, and her heart. However, she must throw caution to the wind when she decides she can’t fight her feelings anymore... But what will it cost her? When things start to fall apart, it’s hard to tell who’s to blame, because everyone is putting their Best Foot Forward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jolene Buchheit
• Release date: Aug 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311999375

Jolene Buchheit

Jolene Buchheit is an advocate for teenagers, a substitute high school teacher, and an author of young adult books. While attaining her Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work, she volunteered to read and edit her fellow students’ research papers because of her love of the written word. Since then, she has written a contemporary novel entitled Best Foot Forward and the first book in the Greek-inspired paranormal Charmed Song Series called Charmed Harmony. When she is not reading, wrestling her two children, or dating her husband, she spends most of her time fangirling. She is always willing to chat about various TV shows, movies and especially books. You can connect with her social media profiles and keep up with her adventures at www.JoleneBuchheit.com in your free time, if you are blessed enough to have some of that.

Book preview

chapter one

Jumping off the dock and feeling the cold water splash on my face is always a refreshing way to start my day. I had foolishly decided it was warm enough to do an outdoor swim without a wetsuit today, even though it’s rained all week. I'm realizing, because I can’t catch my breath, that I should have put one on. I'm glad I at least put my short-sleeved tri-suit on, which offers a bit more warmth than my regular swimsuit, though clearly not enough.

Triathlon training is not for wimps. My mantra flashes through my head with each breath. Triathlon training is not for wimps.

Luc? It always freaks me out when you breathe like that! I mean, I don’t actually want to get in there to rescue you. Tanya, my ever-fashionable little sister, has her long dark legs hanging over the top of the kayak and she is using both carefully manicured hands to hold the paddle. I’ve never had a problem during a swim, but that’s no reason not to practice safely. Besides, our parents insist, Guzmans always put safety first. Tanya doesn’t mind doing Fiesta Lake lifeguard duty for me because it gives her a chance to wear her bikini, and time to work on evening out her tan, especially now that school is about to start.

Sorry, T! But it’s cold! I breathe out while treading water, It takes a few seconds… a couple more huffs of air, …for my breathing to adjust. One deep stabilizing breath and off I go. It takes a few yards for my stroke to settle in, as my body gets acclimated to the temperature. I find myself repeating another pep talk over and over: I can do anything for one minute.

Tanya remains about four to five body lengths behind me as I swim. According to my parents, Tanya needs to be able to reach me quickly if I get a leg cramp or something. I’m confident I would be able to get to shore even without the use of my legs, but I agree swimming alone could be dangerous.

In an actual sprint triathlon, I would be in the water for less than fifteen minutes, but I always practice for twice as long when I come out to the lake. If this were Mt. Spring’s High School pool, I could do laps and drills for hours. But here, I just need to practice sighting, because adding seconds to my competition time by swimming off course is such a waste of energy. As the rhythm of the stroke becomes more consistent, I can't stop from thinking about the book I'm reading. I can tell it’s a great book when even an open-water swim doesn’t clear my mind of it. I have several theories about how the main character is different from everyone else and why she can do what she does.

I have been told I spend a little bit too much time thinking about my fictional friends, so I force my train of thought over to my real-life best friend, Jax Weber. He works with me at his dad’s mechanic shop. To be honest, I’m the best (okay, the only) lube-tech in our little town, but I’m convinced nobody in Iowa can detail a car more thoroughly than Jax.

He graduated in May this year and is about to start at the state college less than thirty miles away. I’m nervous to walk the halls of Mt. Spring High without even the possibility of bumping in to him. It is going to be a big change from last semester when I had three classes with Jax and two classes with his boyfriend Travis, who is almost as fun to be around. Travis is a senior like me this year, so I will definitely still see him around school. However, Jax is the one who has always been there for me, and I for him.

***

Jax! I squeal, and barely stop from hugging him when I see the panicked look on his face. I just put my Dave’s Garage coverall on, which Jax would say has the potential to be dirty.

Jills!! I know it's not funny anymore, but he won't let the Jack and Jill thing go. I give him a stern look and point to the name Luke on my coverall, (Dave swears the embroidery company messed up the spelling, but insists that people at least know how to say my name because of the mistake). He’s called me Jills since we were little kids, even though I insist everyone else call me Luc, short for Lucia. Jax wasn't on the schedule, so I hadn’t expected to see him, which explains my excitement, but I don’t know why he's in such a good mood. I work my long, dark locks into a French braid and look at my list of scheduled oil changes, so I know who to look for.

As I pull my work cart over to the lift, I watch him raise the main stall door. He stands 5’7" tall, same as me, but his presence is always much bigger. Not that he is a big guy, though anyone can tell through his plain V-neck T-shirt that he works out … a lot. The flannel shirt he’s wearing over his gray V-neck is impressively tight around his biceps.

Looks like your first one will go nice and easy. He flexes his angular jaw at me and nods as he points to a Chevy about to pull in. I love working on all cars, but there’s a special place in my heart for domestic vehicles, especially Chevrolets.

Give me twenty minutes, tops! I grin and give him a fist bump. He salutes me as he walks straight into his dad’s office.

His dad works in the garage during the day doing the actual mechanical and technical repairs. In the late afternoons, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he schedules oil changes and tire rotations for me to do, while he does inventory and general bookkeeping. Any time someone is looking for a good cleaning, he puts Jax on the schedule with me. Though sometimes, even when Jax isn’t working, he shows up to keep me company, and to check in on his workaholic dad.

They were our next-door neighbors growing up, until his parents went through an ugly divorce and they had to sell their house as part of the settlement. His mom lives in Harland now, which is about twenty miles south of here. It’s closer to where he is going to college, but thankfully, he's still going to live with his dad this semester. His parents get along better now, but before the divorce and absolutely during the divorce, they fought (loudly) all the time. My parents used to invite Jax over for dinner and sleepovers several times a week. He was nine years old at the time, and much too cool to acknowledge it, but I’d awakened to the sounds of Jax crying fairly often and made a habit of lulling him back to sleep while I smoothed his hair. He eventually realized he was neither the cause, nor the cure, for the problems between his parents. He struggled at first, but found a way to sleep through the night on his own. Of course, not before our best friendship had been solidified. I remember him saying once, I’m so glad your parents decided to treat me as their own when I needed them. He’s always been very wise for his age.

Two better best friends, the town of Mt. Spring, Iowa, has never seen.

I check the air pressure in the tires before I lower the Impala. It's always weird driving something other than my pickup, even when I'm just backing it out. I hand the keys to the owner just as Jax calls out of the office, TIME’S UP! He’s never one to let a challenge go unchecked.

I laugh as I show him my empty hands and meet him in the office. Where’s Travis?

Dave is chuckling and speaks up before Jax can answer. I can’t wait to see what she says about what your boyfriend has been up to! He usually isn’t so excitable, so this has me anxious to hear what’s up.

He is sitting at home on ice, recovering from the salon incident, he put air quotes on that last word, which happened earlier today. Behind Jax, who is speaking very earnestly, I can see Dave chuckling to himself, which leads me to turn and watch Jax as he delivers his punchline....

Travis went to have his hair cut and his mono-brow waxed today. When he mentioned he was gonna try out for the swim team this year, they talked him into a bikini wax for when he puts on the Speedo! he said, motioning toward his groin, with a grimace.

Even Jax laughs as he shares the news,The wax was way too hot! The picture in my head causes me to be concerned at first, but I cannot keep it together. I'm laughing so hard, I have to drop to one knee. I’m holding my stomach because I did an abdominal workout this morning, so by the time I start to catch my breath, I’m definitely feeling the burn.

A bikini wax?! I ask, Doesn’t he know the swim team wears the longer style now?

Jax shakes his head. Evidently not.

Just when I think I’m over it, I imagine Travis sitting at home icing his gentlest parts and another round of laughter begins. I need to take a few minutes to collect myself and dry my eyes before I’ll be ready to approach my next oil change. I hold up my hand as if in defeat, and Dave tells Jax to let me get back to work.

chapter two

My Sunday run is one of my favorites. It's the day I dedicate completely to my running form. I don't listen to music on Sundays, so that I can totally pay attention to my body. I go through my mental checklist over and over:

1. Is my core flexed? 

2. Are my shoulders down?

3. Are my hips above my knees above my feet?

4. Is my head held high?

Every quarter mile, I focus on each part of my body, from my toes to my neck, checking for discomfort. I depend on my phone to tell me the exact pace of each mile, even though I have a pretty good idea what pace I’m doing anyhow. My parents insist I carry my phone with me just in case anything happens, so I put it to good use. They have lots of rules, but I understand that’s one of the ways they show me their love.

I appreciate the fact that my parents not only show me they love me, but they show their love for each other. Many of my classmates’ parents are divorced,or were never married to each other in the first place. I’m used to people asking if my parents ever fight and my answer is always the same: They argue and apologize in equal parts. If my parents have a disagreement in front of me, the apologies happen in front of me, too. I’ve come to realize the apology is sometimes reenacted for my benefit.

Thinking about my parents makes my decision to not date again until I’m out of high school easier. They met in college, and whenever I ask if they would have done anything differently, they say something like, I wish I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be heartbroken so many times before we met, or, In high school, I figured out that relationships have to end sometime, which was horrible practice for marriage. They’ve never outright told me not to have teenage relationships, but I’ve spent my whole life observing enough to know I’m probably better off. I know what being loved and accepted feels like, so I don't need to seek it from any boy my age in order to feel complete. Besides, when I had tried the dating thing two years ago, it hadn’t gone very well at all.

I am halfway through my mental checklist for the umpteenth time today, shoulders down, when I see him. He’s the one I picture as the male protagonist in one of my favorite books. I don’t know if he can recognize me outside of the shop, but I will always remember his beautiful, blue, 1968 Chevrolet Camaro.

Connor Kohlton is in my grade at school. Unlike most of my classmates, he didn’t grow up in this town, or even in this state. I saw him for the first time after spring break ended last year. I was headed to class when the main office door opened and Connor walked out. He was wearing too-tight worn blue jeans, a form fitting T-shirt and a longer on top, shorter-on-the-sides haircut, with sideburns. My path was momentarily blocked and he said, Pardon me, darlin’. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks while I watched his cowboy boots carry him down the hall. It was exactly like a scene from one of the books I’d been reading and I couldn’t help but remember that the southern gentleman from that book had stolen many hearts. The facts that he was new and southern greatly appealed to me. Now, there is no denying the colossal crush I have on him.

Connor is sitting at the stop sign looking at me, and I wave back, glad that I’ve been running. I can't blush through the heat already showing on my face. I notice three things and am struck completely dumb. First, I stopped running the moment I saw him. Second, he was simply waving at me to let me know it was safe to cross the street. Third, I now have no choice except to actually cross the street (cursing at myself) even though in a block I will have to cross back over to take a right turn. Hopefully, he won’t be around to witness that. As I pass his beautiful piece of machinery, I peek up to see him tipping the bill of his Atlanta Braves baseball cap at me. I offer a half-smile/half-nod, which is the best I can do while running, and I think I see him respond with a wink. Of course, that could have just been in my head. He’s so good-looking I can barely stand it.

***

Getting prepped for school is a much bigger event for Tanya than it is for me. Tanya has spent several days preparing outfits for the first few weeks of school. She isn’t content to just coordinate some tops and bottoms. That would never be enough for her. Tanya sets out tops and bottoms and sandals and accessories and even Post-It notes with which makeup look and hairstyle coordinates with her outfit. For me, it is more about being academically ready. I freshen up my supply of spiral notebooks, note cards, and highlighters and I’m good to go.

The week before school starts always means several shopping trips for us girls, including Mama. We not only need to stock up for ourselves, but for Mama's classroom, too. She’s a pre-algebra and algebra teacher at our school and I love that she's there, but I hardly ever see her. She needs to have her room prepared, though she is the type that has had it ready since the last day of school in June. So here we are at Wal-Mart for the third time this week, but at least it's Friday. The goal of this trip is to get a coffee maker and supplies for the Math Department break room. I'm thankful we have a specific mission to help keep my mind off of tomorrow's triathlon.

I practically walk up Tanya’s back because she stopped suddenly to stare longingly at a rack filled with M&Ms. Maybe the mission isn't helping me stay focused as much as I thought.

Wow, T. If you love them so much, why don’t you marry them? She rolls her eyes at me (rightfully), and continues on, but not before she grabs a bag off the shelf and places it in the cart.

Mijas, my mother uses this Spanish word for daughters, since she heard my Grandmama talking about my dad’s sisters, what do you think about one of these one-cup-at-a-time thingamajigs? It may seem like she’s technically asking for our opinion, but we both know she’s already picked out which box she wants us to set in the cart. We give each other a knowing look and wait for her to point it out to us, so we can load it up. She then moves on to read the label on all the different kinds of single-serve coffee flavors. It will take a while for her to decide which ones to try first.

Hey Mama, do you want us to go grab some creamer? Tanya suggests and both of us start giggling as we wander off, leaving Mama with the cart. She won’t even notice we’re gone for a few minutes, and even then she will probably appreciate not having to go chase down the creamer for herself. I really just want to get the shopping done so we can go out to eat! I’m anxious to load up on carbs to give me energy for tomorrow’s race.

chapter three

The last triathlon before school starts is one of the hardest. The college teams start their competition an hour before our level begins, because they are swimming, biking, and running twice as far. The teenage boys start ten minutes before the teenage girls. When Jax does triathlons with me, he is usually just getting out of the water as I’m going in. He’s sitting this one out in favor of a back-to-school/dorm-living shopping trip with his mom. I know how much he needs to get away every once in a while, so this is a good thing, even though I’m doing this event solo.

Ever since the divorce, Bethany Weber has thought the best thing she could do for Jax was to shop with him. The first time she saw Jax after the divorce had been for a weekend trip to the Mall of America about five hours north of here. He returned with a lot of new clothes, several pairs of sneakers, and most importantly, a sense that things would be different--indeed better than listening to his parents fight all the time. His whole outlook on life was better after that trip and he told me he was done dwelling on what could have been between his parents.

I hate when my mind wanders before a race. I'm trying to shake my nerves loose and focus as much as I can on the new bike course I’ll take after I get out of the water. The courses are always well-marked and volunteers will guide us in the right direction, but any hesitation on a turn can cost precious seconds and I don’t want that. I watch the boys' heat start and see all of their purple swim caps and several black wet-suited arms splashing through the water and it's making me wonder if I made the right decision to go without a wetsuit.

I can see I’m the only girl in my race class that isn’t wearing one. I practiced swimming at Fiesta Lake last week when the water temperature was two degrees colder than it is today, and I survived. I always prefer the quicker transition time over the extra comfort the wetsuit can offer.

I try to mentally prepare myself for the shortness of breath of temperature shock, but as soon as my feet touch the sand beneath the shallowest of waters, I’m in race mode. When I get knee deep, I no longer see the trees surrounding the lake or the other triathletes splashing their way around the buoys, which mark the course. I dive forward and am grateful I opted out of the wetsuit, because my breathing settles within a few strokes, and