Crazy Crush Series

By Maggie Dallen

Three full-length sweet YA romances filled with humor, heart, and swoonworthy first kisses...

Tall, Dark, and Nerdy

My best friend used to be a giant nerd. Now that he's rich and famous, he can have anything he wants. But what if what he wants...is me?

Too Nerdy to Handle

Not even an heiress is guaranteed the guy of her dreams, but do I really have to get stuck with the one I hate?

The Man, The Myth, The Nerd

These days I'm a world famous rockstar, but the girl I left behind? She couldn't care less.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie Dallen
• Release date: Jan 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393947073

Book preview

Crazy Crush Series

Also by Maggie Dallen

A Wallflower's Wish

A Duke for Miss Daisy

A Lord for Miss Lily

A Marquess for Miss Marigold

Tis the Season for Lady Sarah

A Hero for Lady Abigail

The Earl's Runaway Bride

The Duke's Darling Debutante

The Viscount's Darling Adventure

The Marquess's Darling Match

Bluestocking Battalion

Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap

Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau

Miss Sally's Unsuitable Soldier

Miss Rebecca's Rebellious Viscount

Miss Hattie's Reluctant Hero

Briarwood High

Out of His League

A Whole New League

The Perfect League

The Holiday Kiss

The Prom Kiss

The Candy Cane Kiss

The Cotton Candy Kiss

Crazy Crush

Tall, Dark, and Nerdy

Too Nerdy to Handle

The Man, The Myth, The Nerd

Dashing Lords

A Rake's Redemption

A Duke's Distraction

A Gentleman's Gamble

Fall in Love Like a Princess

A Shot With Prince Charming

First Loves

Just One Kiss

Only One Boy

One Little Lie

One Little Kiss

Geeks Gone Wild

Love at First Fight

My Virtual Prince Charming

Once Upon a Comic-Con

Geeks Gone Wild Series

How to Catch a Crush

Striking Out with the Star Pitcher

Saved by the Crush's Brother

Playing Hooky with the Hottie

First Kiss with the Quarterback

Sleepover with the Enemy

School of Charm

The Misadventures of Miss Adelaide: A Sweet Regency Romance

The Misunderstanding of Miss Louisa: A Sweet Regency Romance

The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance

The Misgivings About Miss Prudence

The Mistletoe Mistake of Miss Grayson

The Mischievous Miss Charlotte

The Misguided Miss Mary

The Misplaced Miss Eloise

The Mysterious Miss Lydia

The Misfortunate Miss Farthington

Summer Love

Senior Week Crush

Senior Week Fling

Senior Week Kiss

Summer Love Boxset

The Ballerina Academy

The Quarterback and the Ballerina

The Running Back and the Prima Donna

The Wide Receiver and His Best Friend's Little Sister

The Kicker and the New Girl

The Fullback and His Best Friend

Standalone

A Lady's Luck

Crazy Crush Series

Audible Love

Crazy Crush Series

Books 1-3

Maggie Dallen

Copyright © 2019 by Maggie Dallen

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Images © Shutterstock

Cover Design © Designed with Grace

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

Contents

Tall, Dark, and Nerdy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Too Nerdy to Handle

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

The Man, The Myth, The Nerd

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Charming the Cheerleader

About the Author

Tall, Dark, and Nerdy

Copyright © 2019 by Maggie Dallen

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Images © Shutterstock

Cover Design © Designed with Grace

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

1

Liv

---

Any second now the bomb would go off.

Are you sure you want to do this, Vance? Oliver’s voice came through my headphones.

I shook my head, my eyes darting to the countdown clock in the corner of the screen, my finger twitching over the key, one stroke and I’d either win the game or kill us all.

Time’s running out, Oliver said.

Not. Helping. I blew out a short breath and one of the brown frizzy curls dangling in my eyes went flying.

Oliver kept his mouth shut. It was all up to me. Three…two…

I clicked the key and held my breath.

Ouch, Oliver groaned as both of our avatars went up in smoke.

I sighed. Wonderful. Dead again. And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse after being dumped by my boyfriend of six months. I clicked the button to reset the game. Back to square one.

He made a sound of agreement. We’d been playing for hours but there was no way we’d stop until we passed this level. This game is brutal.

Tell me about it. Every death meant going back to the beginning; there were no fail-safes here. Only endless hours wasted. Why do we keep playing this game?

I have no idea. From his end of the line I could hear shuffling sounds as Oliver no doubt took this reprieve from life and death situations to make a snack or something. I glared at the screen as I tried to imagine him in his boarding school dorm room rather than the bedroom I’d spent so much time in.

However he’d arranged it, there was no doubt his room would be cleaner than mine. Many things might have changed this year but I highly doubted that his neat-freak tendencies were among them. I eyed my own all-too-familiar bedroom, which still sported the same Harry Potter posters from grade school. The bright blue hand-knitted cape I’d worn to school today topped a mountain of discarded clothes, and Oliver’s manga collection, which I’d inherited, was in serious danger of spilling out of the overstuffed bookshelf.

I’d told him there wouldn’t be enough room for his comics and mine. But apparently he didn’t trust his even neat-freakier mom not to toss them all while he was gone in some sort of empty nest cleaning frenzy.

Does your room have a microwave? I asked.

No. Why?

I shrugged out of habit, even though he obviously couldn’t see me. Just curious. How do you make that nasty popped pork rinds stuff you like so much?

I don’t.

I straightened. You stopped eating that crap?

He made a noise that I took to be yes as he ate.

See? I said with a sigh. You and I are already growing apart.

He groaned, because yes, this might have been the tenth time on this particular call that I’d brought it up. I couldn’t help it. Ever since I’d left him in his then-empty dorm room in Manhattan to pile back into his dad’s car and head home, I’d been wallowing in a funk. My theory? There was no way we wouldn’t grow apart if he went off to this fancy-pants boarding school for our senior year of high school while I stayed in our Podunk little Pennsylvania town for another year.

Don’t be an idiot, he said.

I let out a huff of amusement. Him calling me names like that was oddly reassuring, and I was pretty sure he knew it judging by how often he’d been insulting me lately. Just him calling me by my last name gave me the warm fuzzies these days. Ever since grade school we’d been calling one another by our last names—Vance and Jackson. Everyone else called me Liv or Olivia—bleck, I hated my full name—but only Oliver called me Vance, just like I was the only one who referred to him as Jackson. I sighed loudly into the phone. Two months of separation from my bestie and it was these little things that made me miss him even now when we were talking.

I could hear him munching on something—something that apparently was not pork rinds. Which was a good thing. All those preservatives would be the death of him one day if he kept eating them on a daily basis. That’s what my mom would say, anyway. She was always trying the latest it diet and buying Shape magazines. My mom was always the first to try out new weight-loss trends, and I almost always leapt on board once she paved the way. It was only fair that she be the guinea pig since it was her set of genes that was responsible for my never-ending battle with thigh bulge and belly pudge.

My father might have been the one who abandoned us to start a new family with one of the young nurses in his practice, but my mother was the one who’d cursed me with cellulite. Sometimes it was a toss-up for who I resented more.

Kidding. Totally kidding. My mom was the bomb, albeit mildly crazy in the health department. Just like Oliver’s mother was a saint among women…when she wasn’t trying to spray you with Pledge to make sure you didn’t bring dirt into her house. Our moms had been best friends since before we were born, which was how Oliver and I had become besties at birth, basically.

Is your roommate there? I asked.

No.

What’s he up to?

Probably a party or something. I didn’t ask.

I chewed on that for a moment as Oliver chewed on his non-pork-related snack. "Do you want to be out partying?"

The chewing noises stopped. No.

Why not?

I’m playing the world’s hardest video game with you.

I stood up to stretch. Yes, but you don’t have to, you know that, right?

Seriously, Vance? Not this again.

"It’s Friday night, Jackson. I’m just saying—"

I know what you’re just saying, he said. You know how I know? You’ve said it at least three thousand times in the last two months.

I don’t want to hold you back.

"I know." Exasperation laced his tone, but there was no way I could just let it go, even though I knew trying to get him to go out and mingle on his own was a lost cause. If left to his own devices, Oliver would never leave his room. He’d either get lost in a video game, a comic, or one of his latest coding projects. Without me in his life, there was a very good chance he would have turned into some sort of basement-dwelling troll every weekend of our high school career.

And now that I wasn’t there to drag him out of his room? Well, I still considered it my duty as his best friend to make sure he put himself out there. Particularly with the ladies, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink.

Oliver had finally escaped the small-minded, fishbowl nightmare that was Harmon High; he ought to be out making friends who’d appreciate him as much as I did. He should be meeting girls who wouldn’t laugh at him just because he didn’t play sports or say things like ‘yo’ and ‘bro.’ Oliver should be out having adventures in the big city, and not spending every free minute talking to me as if nothing had changed. I might’ve still been stuck in Harmon for another year, but that didn’t mean he had to wait for me before he enjoyed the perks of his new life.

You should be out having fun, I said, my tone firm.

"This is fun."

We just killed ourselves three times in a row, I pointed out.

But we had fun while doing it, didn’t we?

Staring at the screen where our characters’ bodies lay mutilated, I relented with a sigh. Yeah, we totally had fun.

Then I don’t know what you’re so worried about, he said. I could practically see him now. His dark hair was probably overgrown because he never remembered to get a haircut, and he’d be fidgeting with his glasses as he sat back down at his computer so we could start another game.

I heaved another sigh and blurted out the pathetic truth. I hope you didn’t stay home to play video games on a Friday night because you feel sorry for me.

He snickered a bit, and I could hear his smile when he answered. Why would I feel sorry for you?

Uh, because I got dumped today?

Oh yeah, that.

I straightened in my seat. "Oh yeah, that? I repeated with disdain. You could show a little sympathy for me here, Jackson."

I thought you didn’t want me to pity you, he said, repeating my words from earlier. This was the problem when dealing with a smarty-pants. Oliver tended to remember stuff. He remembered everything. For better or for worse.

"I don’t want pity, I clarified. But I do want sympathy."

He sighed. You have my sympathy. However, I might point out that you were talking about potentially breaking up with Stuart only last week—

But I didn’t.

And you’ve mentioned on more than one occasion that his halitosis has made intimacy an issue—

You are the only person who uses the word halitosis. Why can’t you just say rank breath like everyone else in the world?

Not to mention, he continued, you admitted less than two hours ago that the breakup was probably for the best.

I growled in annoyance as I got up from my desk and headed to the kitchen for those tasteless, low-calorie cardboard treats my mom had gotten us to snack on. Listening to Oliver eat was making me hungry. Fine. I might not be heartbroken, but I think a little sympathy and kindness are still in order.

Fine, he said, amusement tingeing his voice. "You have my deepest condolences on your split from the guy with rank breath."

My lips twitched up against my will at his use of the phrase. Oliver was one of those guys who just didn’t talk like everyone else. I mean, he didn’t speak Klingon or anything, but he had this way of talking that was slightly more eloquent, more mature maybe, than the average high school senior. It probably had some correlation to the fact that he’d gotten a perfect score on the English portion of the SATs. FYI, he also got a perfect score on the math section.

My best friend was smart. Like, wicked smart.

Seriously, though, he added, the amusement fading from his tone. Are you going to be all right?

I nodded and then remembered that he couldn’t see it. Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just a bummer, that’s all.

You’re going to miss him? Oliver’s voice sounded stilted. Awkward. Not unusual for Oliver, who didn’t exactly excel at boy talk. But, since he was my one and only friend, he was stuck talking about boys. For better or for worse.

Before you get the wrong idea about me being just as introverted as Oliver—I wasn’t. I’d tried to make other friends; I’d just never met anyone else in our tiny town who I clicked with the way I always had with Oliver. His story was pretty much the same—it wasn’t like either of us was morally opposed to making other friends, it was just that neither of us seemed to be any good at it.

I hoped for both our sakes that this inability to make friends in Harmon could be attributed to the tiny population and the small-town mentality that seemed to think the only way to fit in meant having to fit the mold.

I pursed my lips as I considered the contents of the fridge. I think we all knew the cardboard treats weren’t going to cut it tonight.

Well? Oliver prompted. Are you going to miss him?

I’m going to miss having a boyfriend, I said with a sigh. That was the truth. I’d liked having a boyfriend, especially with Oliver out of the picture. He’d been someone to do things with on the weekends, and someone to chat with in the halls. Stuart’s table had provided a surefire place to sit at in the cafeteria…not to mention an automatic date to homecoming. I let out another pathetic sigh and my gaze darted between a bowl of fruit and a little white box filled with yummy, fried Chinese goodness.

"But you’re not going to miss him," Oliver said. He was nothing if not persistent.

He was also dense. I mean, a genius, but still dense sometimes. Stuart might not have won any awards for his looks...or his personality, for that matter. And he would have categorically failed when it came to his kissing skills. But that didn’t make being dumped weeks before the biggest dance of the semester any easier to bear. And it definitely didn’t help that he’d done it first. Now I’d look even more pathetic than ever at school because I’d been dumped by bad-breath Stu.

But try explaining all that to Oliver—a guy who’d not only escaped the prison-like confines of Harmon High, but who’d never cared all that much what our classmates thought of him even when he went there.

I am going to miss Stuart, in a weird sort of way. I reached for a carton of leftover Chinese takeout and straightened. He was the best boyfriend I ever had.

There was a brief pause after that grand statement. Vance, he was the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.

I shrugged. Yeah, but that’s what makes it so sad, you know?

No, he said, his voice dry. I don’t know.

He was right, he probably couldn’t understand. After all, he’d never had a girlfriend. Not because he wasn’t attractive. He was. At least, I thought so. But the dopes at our high school—his former high school—hadn’t been able to look beyond the fact that he was…well, let’s face it. He was a nerd. Not just because he was smart, but because he was socially awkward in a way that put every character of The Big Bang Theory to shame. Not even a handsome face could outweigh the fact that Oliver had zero game. He was way too straightforward at the best of times, but most of the time he just didn’t interact with others. Except for me, of course. I was sort of Oliver’s personal translator to the world at large.

He might have had to tutor me through calculus last year, but sometimes, like right now, it fell on me to explain the obvious stuff, like high school relationships.

He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss… I waved a hand as I searched for the right words. Getting over your first love is serious business.

"He was your first love?" His voice was so sharp I almost dropped the container of food.

Well…

Liv Vance, he said in that deep voice he’d developed sometime when I wasn’t paying attention over the last couple years.

Yes?

Were you or were you not in love with Stuart Hall?

I paused, trying to remember how I’d felt six months ago when Stuart had first asked me out. I’d been excited, but mainly because a boy had asked me out. And my emotions had gone downhill from there. Excitement had led to curiosity—especially with the kissing part—but then I’d discovered that I didn’t really like kissing Stuart, so then I was just sort of anxious about being alone with him—

Vance, this should not be a difficult question to answer.

He was right, of course. It wasn’t difficult. No, I said with a sigh. I never loved him.

There was a long silence on his end as I climbed the stairs back to my bedroom. But you still have to feel sorry for me. As my best friend, you’re legally obligated to indulge my wallowing after my first breakup.

Fair enough, he said, making me grin. That was one of the things I loved best about Oliver. He was so easy to get along with, even when I made up arbitrary rules of friendship.

What’s the timeframe on wallowing these days? he asked idly.

Umm. I hopped onto my bed and dug into the leftovers. Seventy-two hours.

He sighed, but I just knew he was smiling. Sounds like we’re in for a long weekend.

Mmm, I agreed with a mouthful of food. Get ready for some hardcore pity partying.

Maybe we should party for your pity in person, he said.

I froze mid-bite, but I recovered quickly. That’s some sweet alliteration, bro.

He gave a snort of amusement but didn’t say anything. He was waiting for a response to his suggestion.

Here’s the thing—I’d been trying really hard to give Oliver some space since he’d gone off to his boarding school. Physical space, I mean. We still talked or texted about ten times a day. But I’d been trying to stay away so he could make new friends and start a new life. Much as I missed him, this was good for him for so many reasons. Not the least of which was that he was finally surrounded by people who not only appreciated his genius, but understood it. He was going to school with a bunch of other gifted people, and most of them were probably as rich as he was. And yeah, the boy was rich.

Or at least, he would be very soon.

Long story short? My genius best friend created an app…and it was huge. Like Snapchat-meets-Twitter levels of popularity, and it happened crazy fast. One minute he was a somewhat normal high school teenager, and the next he was in the public eye as the world—and mega social media corporations—took notice.

With the rise in popularity of his app, called Love Quiz, the financial offers started coming their way. Oliver had saved up a nice little chunk of change already thanks to some advertisers, but nothing compared to the fortune he’d get when he officially sold to one of the tech giants. At this point, it was clearly just a matter of time before the sale to Telecor was a done deal, and his parents thought it would be best for Oliver to get out of our tiny town with its limited opportunities and take advantage of all that the big city and this elite private school had to offer. So, they’d splurged for the hoity-toity boarding school, with its world-class security and high-powered alumni.

Oliver’s parents were smart, and like me they only wanted the best for Oliver. And for my part, that meant making sure Oliver thrived at this new school even though the selfish part of me wanted him to come back home so we could go back to being the inseparable besties we’d always been.

But here’s the thing about life. There was no going backwards, and people were bound to change.

Especially when they became an overnight success story.

Oliver kept telling me how nothing would change when he went off to school, but in a way I hoped it would. I’d meant it when I’d said that I’d wanted him to get out and meet people. Being in a new city, on his own…this was his chance to spread his wings and I’d never wanted him to feel like he needed to come home to visit every other weekend or invite me to the city all the time just because he was worried about me.

Despite what he might say, he did worry about me. He couldn’t help it any more than I could help worrying about him. When you’ve been joined at the hip as long as we have, you couldn’t help but think about the other person.

The last time he’d asked me to visit I’d said no—it was too soon. He needed to stand on his own two feet. But now? Well, two months was a really long time. Especially for us. This was the longest we’d been apart our whole lives. Granted, we talked pretty much every day and texted non-stop, but still…separation was brutal.

So? he said. What do you think?

I bit my lower lip as I tried to be selfless and objective. Had enough time passed? Had I given him enough space?

Yes, I said before I’d actually answered either question. A girl could only be so selfless.

Great, he said. Next weekend then?

Yes. My heart did a little happy dance in my chest at the honest relief in his voice. But, I added, If I come, we have to manage our time wisely.

I see. He dropped his voice to match my serious tone. And why is that?

We have to juggle my pity party with a serious celebration of all things you.

His laugh was low and rumbly and so heartwarmingly familiar it nearly made me swoon. Man, I missed this guy. All things me, huh?

Yup. It’s not every day an eighteen-year-old from Harmon, Pennsylvania becomes a BILLIONAIRE! And yes, I screamed the word billionaire, ignoring his protests that it wasn’t a done deal yet, and maybe it would fall through, and blah blah this guy was way too humble for words.

Your dad told me the other day that it was as good as done, I said.

He cleared his throat. Yeah, well…

I rolled my eyes. Only Oliver would feel uncomfortable about the fact that he’d struck gold. You deserve this. Why not embrace it?

He mumbled something incoherent about not wanting me to make a big deal out of it.

Tough, I said. I’m making a big deal out of it. This is huge. You’re living the dream.

I got lucky, that’s all.

My exasperated sigh said it all. We’d been over this before. Many times. In some ways, I got it. No one had seen this coming, least of all Oliver. It had all started as an extra credit computer programming assignment his sophomore year.

There’s no other way to put it—Oliver became obsessed with his project, a sort of dating app, but the term ‘dating app’ makes it sound way too simple. It was an app and it was designed for young people to find their perfect match, but it was so much more than that.

He’d called it Love Quiz, but again, he’s oh-so-humble. It was hardly just some quiz. He based the whole concept on the fact that people lie when asked to talk about themselves. Whether it’s intentional or not, people say what they think they should, what they believe others want to hear. What really matters is what they do.

The app could be synched with all your other social media and apps to compile all sorts of data, and rather than a straightforward quiz, it has users solve puzzles and play games that are designed to ferret out actual personality traits. He’d made this app that was originally designed for his class, then he scaled it up for the whole high school. When his father, a super savvy businessman, got wind of how successful this could be, Oliver leveled up again, and bam! It took off like wildfire.

The app and its creator garnered a ton of press, and by the end of junior year, it had become the number one social media app among teens and college students. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so shocked when Telecor approached him and his father asking to buy the app.

But I was shocked, and so was Oliver. I wasn’t sure he’d actually absorbed the fact that he could very well be the first self-made teen billionaire in history. Okay fine, I didn’t know that for a fact, but how many teen billionaires do you know?

So you’ll come here and celebrate with me? he asked, turning the conversation back to my upcoming visit.

I grinned like a moron on my end of the line. I wouldn’t miss it.

Great. He grew quiet and I knew that was all he’d say on the topic.

Wait, how am I going to stay with you? I asked. Aren’t there, like…rules?

Rules? he repeated.

For a genius, my best friend wasn’t always quick on the uptake. "Yeah, you know rules. Like, about fraternizing or whatever."

He was silent on the other end and I found myself shifting uncomfortably, getting to my feet because I couldn’t sit still. I didn’t know why I felt weird about this. I mean, Oliver and I had been having sleepovers for years, and it had never been awkward. But then again, there had never been any issue about us sleeping in the same room before either. Our parents knew we were friends. Just friends.

But the nameless authorities who created the rules of his super strict dorm? Something told me our word of honor on the topic wouldn’t be enough. I heaved a sigh and spelled it out for him. Won’t there be an issue with me staying in your room?

He cleared his throat. Oh. Um. Yeah…

We were both quiet for a second and this silence was just plain weird. We didn’t do awkward silences. It so was not our thing. And yet, here we were, hovering around a topic we’d never had to face before.

Truth be told, we never really talked much about the fact that he was a boy and I was a girl. I mean, why would we? It would be like discussing the fact that I liked olives and he didn’t, or that he was better at math than I was. Not much to say, really. Just the facts.

Maybe that’s why it suddenly seemed so weird. We were forced to acknowledge the fact that while we might not see each other as male and female—at least not like that—other people did.

I found myself pacing my bedroom, trying to backpedal from the edge of awkward. If you need me to stay at a hotel or something, I could do that. I stopped walking. I mean, I can’t really afford it but, you know…you could.

That made him laugh. Using me for my money already, Vance?

You’d better believe it. Just like that, we were back on normal footing, and I fell back down onto my bed, lying flat so I was staring up at the ceiling. I have big plans for making you my sugar daddy, you know…minus the creepy stuff.

Creepy, huh?

I wrinkled my nose as I babbled away. See, now this was normal. Don’t you think it’s a creepy term? I asked. Sugar daddy…ugh. I wonder where they came up with that.

How exactly am I going to be your non-creepy sugar daddy? he asked.

I could practically see his smile as we talked about the pros and cons of having a rich friend who could magically make all your dreams come true. My list of wants and demands grew more and more ludicrous, but it was fun to daydream.

Wait, wait, he interrupted at one point. What’s this about a helicopter? I mean, the private jet taking us to Italy, I can understand. But a helicopter?

I could hear the amusement in his voice and it made me grin as I stared up at my ceiling. Picture it, Jackson. It would be like something straight out of a movie.

Uh huh.

He didn’t sound convinced but he did sound like he was smiling. That’s how well I knew him, I could hear his smiles. Not just that, I knew what kind it would be. It was a very particular type of smile he’d be wearing right now, the one that caused a little wrinkle between his brows because it was part amusement and part befuddlement. He often gave me that look.

You’d swoop in with a helicopter and whisk me away from all the jerks at Harmon High and we’d fly off into the sunset. I ended with a sigh.

After a brief pause, Oliver said, So you’re saying you want me to sweep you off your feet and run away with you.

I let out a giggle that was so stupidly girlie I clapped a hand over my mouth. Something like that.

Got it, he said. His tone was so dry I burst out in another laugh.

After another pause, he cleared his throat. Hey, Vance?

Yeah?

You’re not really heartbroken over Stuart, are you?

No, I said. My ego’s just bruised, that’s all.

You can do better than Stuart Hall.

I know. I said it to make him stop worrying about me, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. I was far from a beauty queen. I wasn’t butt ugly, but I wasn’t a hottie either. I was somewhere in the middle. A solid five on a scale of one to ten. My curves were a little too curvy and I was shorter than the average girl in my class. I had the sort of face that people called cute, at best. And my hair? Forget about it. It was a big ball of frizz no matter what the weather was like outside.

Do you? he asked quietly.

The guy knew me too well. But I wasn’t in the mood for one of his pep talks. He was my loyal best friend, and sometimes I was certain he was blind to my faults because of that. From the way he talked, you’d think I could have any guy on the planet. He was worse than my mother, who insisted that boys didn’t ask me out because they were intimidated by me.

Right. That was totally it. Nothing to do with the fact that my nickname in middle school was Loser Liv. Kids were the best, weren’t they?

I was still a loser, but my classmates had stopped with the nicknames years ago. Now it was just understood that while I might make them laugh in class sometimes, and they were more than happy to let me organize the charity events as student council president, I was not in their league. I was not of their world. And I was definitely not dateable…at least not by anyone with decent breath or clear skin.

Did that sound pitiful? Well, tough. This was my pity party, after all. I still had a solid seventy hours of wallowing left and I intended to take full advantage.

You’ll find someone else, Liv.

I know, I said again, this time with more forced confidence. I really needed him to stop. When Oliver got all sweet like this, it made my throat close up and my chest grow tight, and I had no idea why. All I knew was, the reaction had nothing to do with Stuart or this recent breakup.

I scrambled to think of something else to say before he could start in again, this time with some nice but baseless comments about how I deserved better or how I was too good for all the guys in our school.

Honestly, I’m already feeling better, I said, my tone a little too bright for believability.

Yeah? My smart friend didn’t sound like he believed me.

At least now I’m free for Mikey Haverford when he finally realizes that I’m the love of his life.

There was a long silence and I held my breath. When Oliver let out a huff of amusement I let out an exhale of my own, the tension seeping out of me.

You can’t possibly still have a crush on that guy, he said.

I didn’t. Not really. But it was good for a laugh. Why not? I said, mentally calling up an image of Mikey, Harmon High’s resident stoner. He’s sort of an outcast, like me and Stu, I said.

That’s because he never knows what day of the week it is, Oliver said.

Yet he’s still invited to more parties than me, I marveled. The standards by which one was deemed acceptable at Harmon High were still difficult for me to grasp. Too smart, bad. Too dumb, good. Oh, what a world we lived in. It had to be different in college…right?

He’s only invited because he brings the marijuana, Oliver said. Only Oliver would refer to it as marijuana rather than pot or weed.

Mikey probably referred to it as breakfast.

He is kind of cute, though, I added. This was true. Mikey had a sort of hot grungy vibe about him.

He doesn’t shower.

I wrinkled my nose. This was also true. Sometimes Mikey took the grungy vibe a bit too far. I shrugged. Maybe it’s my lot in life to date smelly men.

Oliver sighed. Do you even hear yourself?

What? He’s of my caliber.

Oliver groaned. Stop it.

I did, because I knew it honestly annoyed Oliver when I spoke like that. Like there were different leagues and classes based on popularity and attractiveness.

You are better than all of them, he said gruffly.

My heart did a weird wringing movement. "No, you are." I said it teasingly, but it was true. Oliver was better than all of them, and far better than me. He was handsome, smart, and good. So very good.

It was for the best that he’d left because he deserved so much more than anything he could find here in Harmon.

I felt a weird ache in my chest. Homesickness at its worst, which was weird since I was in my actual home. But I missed Oliver. I missed that smile. I can’t wait for next weekend.

Me too, he said. His voice was lower than ever and a shiver raced through me as it reverberated over the phone.

Just like that the weirdness was back, although there was no reason for it. This was just Oliver. And I was just his best friend. Nothing had changed. I cleared my throat and shook off the silly sense of awkward. While I was totally kidding about having you pay, I’m totally serious about staying at a hotel, if that’ll—

No. His refusal was quick and decisive. I’ll find a way to make it work.

And he would. I had no doubts. Have I mentioned that my best friend was a genius?

Okay, cool, I said, a rush of giddiness making me pace the room once more. We were going to have a sleepover! I couldn’t wait.

But I’d have to.

One week.

2

Oliver

---

A lot can happen in one week.

I checked the time on the wall clock in my dorm’s lobby and then crossed my arms over my chest. She was late.

Not Liv. She’d just texted to tell me she’d gotten a cab from the train station. I was waiting on Jamie, a virtual stranger, but one of the few girls who’d gone out of her way to talk to me since I’d started at this school.

Ollie, hey! The blonde in question came into the lobby from the entrance to the girls’ wing.

No one had ever called me Ollie before, but I couldn’t bring myself to object. She seemed like the friendly sort, and it seemed that friendly people felt compelled to give people nicknames. The only nickname I’d ever had was my last name, and that was only because Liv’s full name was Olivia and once upon a time she actually went by that name. We’d figured out at a very early age that best friends named Oliver and Olivia was just too ridiculous, and so we’d started calling one another by our last names.

It was tradition, but every time Liv called me ‘Jackson’ I felt another brick being laid in the foundation of our friendship. A metaphorical barrier that I’d heard others refer to as the friend zone.

Jamie. I gave my new acquaintance a nod of greeting when she drew near. Thanks again for agreeing to do this.

Of course! She tucked some hair behind her ear, her white teeth on full display as she…stood there. I’d sort of hoped she’d do what most girls do when they’re stuck alone with me and pull out a phone or something. Anything to avoid an interaction.

I glanced over at the door, mentally willing Liv to hurry. My internal urging would have no effect on the speed her Lyft driver chose to go, but I did it nonetheless.

So, Jamie said brightly. This girl who’s coming to visit—

Liv, I said. Olivia Vance. I was fairly certain I’d remembered to tell Jamie the name of the girl she was supposed to be hosting this weekend in the email I’d sent her with the details. I’d listed her name, age, and even a physical description so she’d be able to recognize her if for some reason I couldn’t be here to facilitate their meeting.

I’d tried to plan for any mishaps that could get in the way of this weekend going smoothly. It probably would have been easier to book her a hotel room—I could definitely afford it these days. But that just seemed wrong. I hadn’t seen Liv in two months, and I wanted to spend every second with her. I needed to have her close.

Jamie’s smile grew. Right, Liv. She shifted, coming to stand a little closer. So, is Liv your girlfriend?

My head jerked back slightly at the unexpected question and my stomach leapt with nerves. Not yet. Maybe one day. Hopefully soon. No.

She continued to watch me, then she arched her brows. Is she your cousin or something?

No.

She laughed, though I couldn’t imagine why. I hadn’t said anything funny.

Is she your friend?

Definitely. Always. But also, hopefully more. Yes.

She nodded, her lips pursing as she studied me. She seemed to be waiting for me to speak. My cheek muscle twitched as I looked out the window again. Still no Liv.

I cleared my throat and turned back to find her still watching me. Thank you, I said, realizing belatedly that perhaps she was waiting for a sign of gratitude. I gestured toward the security desk. Thank you for helping my friend and me with our dilemma.

Yeah, sure, she said with a shrug. No problem. Just make sure she’s in my room for the last RA patrol before lights out, and then we’ll sneak her over to your room.

I frowned as I thought of all the ways this could go wrong and we could get caught.

Don’t worry, Jamie said. We all do this all the time.

I nodded. That seemed to be the consensus of my roommate and the few other students with whom I’d discussed this matter. It was surprising, really. For a school that prided itself on security, the students of Emory Prep seemed to have no issue circumventing the rules.

Jamie was still watching me. Where on earth was Liv?

I heard the news, she said.

I turned to face her. What news?

She laughed again, like I’d said something funny. I’d have to tell Liv that I finally found a girl other than her who found me funny. She’d make a joke about how it didn’t count if she was laughing at