Lindsey: Love & Intrigue – Chapter 3

 

On April 12^th I started sharing the initial chapters of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue, my award winning debut novel. Lindsey is a Young Adult (YA) Romantic Thriller. To read Chapter 1 & 2 please go to: https://www.kimberlykolb.com/lindsey-love-intrigue-chapter-1/

 

To find out more about the book visit: https://www.kimberlykolb.com/

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And download the full version of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue today on Amazon: http://amzn.to/19IoVPM or at Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ngP0Zl

 

Enjoy!

 

 

Lindsey

Love and Intrigue

 

 

Kimberly Kolb

 

3.     A Ride Home: This changes everything.

 

After practice I’m supposed to text Isabella and meet her near her car. It’s nice of her to wait since her volleyball practice isn’t as long as my gymnastics practice, but she agreed to wait for me for these first few weeks of school until I get my driver’s license. Mostly I think Isabella is nice to me because we are neighbors. I’m not sure if we would be friends if we weren’t neighbors.

As phones aren’t allowed to be used inside school, I wait until I step outside to check my phone. I notice I have a text message from Isabella. Only one text message—I bet everyone else gets like ten a day. I hope she hasn’t been waiting too long for me.

 

5:12 p.m. Hey. Change in plans. Walk 2 student lot. Your ride will be waiting. 🙂

 

Okay, what does this mean? Didn’t she wait for me? Who is taking me home? Who could it be? Oh, man. Walking cautiously, I head over to the student lot, which still has a number of cars from all the athletes at practice for various sports. As I enter the lot, I don’t see Isabella or anyone else who I think might be driving me home. I turn to look around and see a car pull up to me. I step back and notice Kevin is driving. He has this sly grin on his face as he stops next to me.

“Need a ride?” he says.

I bite my lip and reply, “Um, I’m … ah … I’m not sure.”

“I am; get in,” and then the grin turns into a big smile. “I told Isabella I would drive you home so she could take Rick home.”

“Oh, Okay.” So whose idea was this? Isabella’s? No, I don’t think she would do that. But then again, girls do anything to get more time with their boyfriends.

I’m still pondering this as I get into his car.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure.” In an attempt to be helpful, I say, “I live right …”

“You’re next to Isabella, right?”

“Yeah.”

I thought I would try to figure out what’s going on, so I say, “I’m sorry Isabella put you up to this.” I say this in a timid voice, hoping to unearth the truth. As we turn out of the student lot, we pass Jon, who did a bit of a double take to see me with Kevin—captain of the soccer team, vice president of his class, and of course, dating Andrea. Great.

“Oh, no worries, she didn’t.” Okay, so what does that mean? Why aren’t you driving Andrea home? Are you flirting with me?

We both sit listening to the music for a few minutes as we drive through town and around the curve of the lake toward my house. Oh, what the heck. “So, um … how’s Andrea?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says as he looks at me. “We broke up about a month ago.”

A month ago! Wait a minute. This changes everything. As this news starts to settle in, I realize I’m still looking at him, and he just caught me. I quickly turn away embarrassed. So are you driving me home because Rick wants time with Isabella?

“How was your first day?” he asks causally.

“Oh, fine—how about you?” Fine—until now … when I am a bit freaked out that Kevin Walker is driving me home.

“Good, I guess. Did you see Mrs. Brady’s hair?”

“Yeah, I did,” I say, smiling.

“What a color—I mean, seriously, did she do that on purpose? It’s purple, right?”

Laughing a bit with him at Mrs. Brady’s expense, I look over and see Joel and his brother Mike turning into their driveway. Wonder what they think seeing me with Kevin Walker. I’m still trying to figure all this out as he turns into our long driveway. The leaves on the trees along the drive are starting to turn colors. New school year, new season, new driver—wonder what else will change this year. I reach down to grab my backpack as we near my house.

“See you tomorrow, Lindsey,” he says, turning toward me.

“Thanks again for the ride,” I reply as I open the door and get out.

Walking in front of his car, I am totally self-conscious of him watching me walk, so I turn and give him a little smile. Smiling, he waves with one hand and then drapes it on the top of the passenger seat to back out of our driveway.

 

 

—–

 

 

Mom and I have a nice dinner together. We have fun making pizzas and talking about our days. Mostly we talk about my day as it was the first day of my junior year.

“Is Joel in your science class again this year?”

“No, but Jon and I are lab partners.”

“How nice.”

“Chris Buckley is in my English class.”

“Oh, very nice.” Yes. It is very nice.

“Thankfully, Melissa is in my lunch period so we sat together. She was telling me about a couple of the books she read over the summer, which reminds me—Mom, when you’re in town tomorrow, can you pick up another mystery for me?”

“Sure. Do you want another one from one of your favorite authors?”

“Yeah, and grab me one of their recommendations so I can try a new author.”

“You got it. Do you have much homework?”

“Not much, but I want to get ahead.”

“Okay, well, go on up. I’ll clean up.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

 

 

—–

 

 

As I lie in bed thinking about the first day of school, I’m so pleased that Chris and Jon both are in one of my classes this year. I wonder if Chris just hangs out with me because he knows I have a huge crush on him, and in some small way, my crush thrills him the same way Jon’s crush thrills me. Probably. So sad.

I wonder if Kevin will sit with me again tomorrow in study hall. If nothing else, that prospect is giving me a nice wave of excitement for the year ahead. On some semisubconscious level, I figure that being seen with Kevin, a cool senior, puts me into a whole new category at school. Even though he broke up with Andrea, I don’t know if he’s already seeing someone else. Dating a senior seems like too much to hope for. But that would be cool. Sure, I continue the dream that Chris will notice me, but if I can’t have perfection, it would be nice to at least not be home every Saturday night.

Here I am a junior and have never been asked to one of the all-too-heralded high school dances. Rather depressing at times. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me; it’s just a fact of life. Well, at least it’s a fact of my life. Only totally popular kids or kids who are in relationships go as lower classmen. But now I’m a junior. What if I’m the only girl I know who isn’t asked to the dance? Clearly, the Fab Five will be asked and will continue their perfect attendance at school dances. How do they do it? I get that they are pretty, but how is it that all the cool guys and cool girls go to every dance even if they’re not “going” with anyone? Guys don’t call me, but since they never have, I guess I really don’t know what I’m missing. Most of the time I’m so busy at school, the gymnastics club, or studying, I don’t think about it. But there are moments when it bothers me deeply.

As a result, I have grown to try to mentally ignore certain traditions in high school as much as possible. Traditions like the all-too-public popularity contest conducted twice each year called “Flower Day.” Every fall and spring semester, there are a few days when kids sit outside the cafeteria taking orders for carnations to be sent from one student to another. Then, on another day later that week or the next week, kids deliver flowers throughout the day to the popular students. Getting flowers is a clear and very visible sign of one’s popularity. I’m sure it feels great. I wouldn’t know. I’m a card-carrying member of the “Never Been Sent a Carnation Club.”

I seem to be a bit jealous, lately, of all the attention some of the girls get from guys. From where I stand, these girls have everything. They always know the perfect thing to say to sound cute and coy, they have a great sense of style, and both the girls and guys constantly call and text them. It’s so unfair. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. I might as well use the strength of it to fuel a good workout tomorrow.

I would be so happy for Melissa and Elena, my two girlfriends at school, if they get asked to the dance. If no one asks me, the truth is, I’ll feel sorry for myself. But if someone does ask me—I’ll freak out! What exactly do you do at a dance? What would I wear?

Not problems I will likely have to solve anytime soon.

 

 

—–

 

 

The rest of the first week of school went about as expected. Now it’s the second week of school and Kevin is sitting with his soccer buddies today in study hall, so I try to get some work done. With only about fifteen minutes left in the period, Kevin comes over to sit with me. Interesting. Sadly, we can’t talk at all as the librarian is making constant rounds to keep everyone quiet. When the bell rings, he gets up with me and I half expect him to go back to meet up with the guys, but he starts to chat with me about the day. As we pass kids in the hall, I’m sure they’re trying to figure out why Kevin Walker is walking with me. Little do they know, I have no idea either. But I have hope. Last week I was feeling a bit jealous. I’ll take hope over jealousy any day.

“Can I give you a ride home?” Kevin asks.

“Sure,” but a whisper is all I can seem to muster. Why am I so nervous with guys? They all seem so confident. It seems like they know exactly what to do. How is that possible? Are they only like that with girls they really like?

“Good, I’ll see you in the student lot at about five thirty–ish.” And as he walks into the locker room, he calls over his shoulder, “And don’t worry. Isabella already knows.” Great. Confirmation of how pathetically predictable I am. I don’t even remember practice. It’s a blur of strength training, girls on my periphery whispering and giggling, and thoughts of my ride home.

After practice, I walk over to the student parking lot and see Kevin leaning against the passenger side of his car. He is the picture of composure: shades and headphones on with music playing. Of course, he has showered and changed at school. So glad my hair is in a ponytail and I’m in sweats. I’m suddenly conscious that I probably still even have some chalk on my hands. Great.

I desperately try to minimize my pathetic smile so I don’t look like a complete idiot walking over. For someone who doesn’t smile a lot, I’m suddenly having a hard time controlling mine.

As he pulls one earbud out, he calls over to me, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You should hear this song,” he says as he hands me an earbud.

Smooth. He knows I need to step close enough to him to get the earbud in my ear without pulling the other one out of his ear. So I step toward him and lean on the car next to him, popping the earbud into my ear.

As I listen to the pull of the violins and harp with a rock beat behind the strings, I must admit, “Very cool.” I have always loved the sound of a harp.

“Yeah, it’s a group out of France.”

“France? How did you hear of them?” How do guys find the time to find music groups in France? The longer I listen, the more I like it.

“Oh, I don’t know, just found it on the web.”

When the song finishes, he stands up from the car so I pull the earbud out. He opens the passenger door.

As I sit nervously in his car, I wonder if he’s just having fun toying with me or if he actually likes me. Part of me doesn’t care, and part of me is wondering if I’m setting myself up to be disappointed.

“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks without looking at me.

Ten thoughts leap into my mind at once. Am I a loser if I don’t have any plans? If I have plans, does that mean he won’t ask me out? Do I want to go out with him? I start out on what I assume to be safe ground: a family commitment.

“Well, my dad gets back in town Friday so we’re all going out to dinner.” Will he notice that I’ve not said anything about Saturday night?

“Cool. My mom said that your dad was mentioned in the paper in an article about one of his cases.”

“Yeah, he always has some crazy case going on.”

“Are you going to the football game Saturday?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going with some of the girls.” Oh, man. I hope Melissa and Elena still want to go together.

“Maybe I’ll see you there. It should be a great game.” Maybe? What does that mean? “Are you guys going to Joel and Mike’s after the game?” he continues.

“Um, I think so. I guess so. Joel mentioned it.” What did I say?

“You guys should go; I hear they’re going to set up a bonfire on the beach.”

When we pull into my driveway, I’m as confused as I was a week ago. Is Kevin just trying to help his brother get more time with Isabella? Does Kevin like me? Do I like Kevin? Do you want to see me this weekend? Trying not to sound too appreciative, I say, “Thanks for the ride,” and step out of the car. He gets out to walk me to the front door.

“Looks quiet. Anyone home?”

“Oh, probably not. My Mom’ll be home in a while.” Oh … maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I supposed to invite him inside? What would a senior do in this situation?

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m alone a lot.” Truer words were never spoken.

“Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” I say as I turn to unlock the door while my mind is preoccupied with questions. Talk to me later? Later when? Are you calling me later tonight? Or later like maybe I’ll run into you one day sometime in the future? I’d rather get a call from Chris. Will Chris ever call me?

 

 

—–

 

 

The next day I enter the library for study hall and sit at the same table I sat at yesterday and choose the same seat, hoping it will bring me good luck again. Any advantage is worth a shot. As other kids walk in, I try to study chemistry while I steal glances at everyone coming in. I hear the soccer guys call Kevin over to their table. Terrific. No doubt who will lose this match.

Sure enough, Kevin heads for his soccer buddies and sits down with the team. Oh, well, back to chemistry. Back to reality. Once again, I find concentration is an elusive goal. I reread the same paragraph so many times, I finally turn the page out of pure embarrassment that someone may have noticed that I apparently can’t read. Focus.

Finally I manage to force myself to concentrate long enough to at least grasp that I’m supposed to be learning about atomic theory. My peripheral vision picks up someone walking across the library toward me, so I force my eyes to stay on the page. Do not look up! Do not check to see if it is him. Oh, please, let it be him. As Kevin sits down in the chair opposite me, I sense that he’s smiling.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2013 Kimberly Kolb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

 

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8790-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8791-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8792-8 (e)

 

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907555