THE BUZZ IN THE air surrounding Navarre High School was similar to the one on the first day of school. This one, however, was more electric. More excited. We were one assembly away from stepping out into the sunshine and enjoying the next three months on the beach, not worrying about a single thing.

I, however, wasn’t excited in the least bit. Not even close.

Frankly, this summer was going to blow.

I scowled when I saw Sierra leaning back against the wall outside the field house. Danny Moyer, quarterback and asshole extraordinaire, was next to her with his arm over her head, pressed against the building. He was gazing down at her and standing far too close for my taste. I was waiting for Sierra to roll her eyes at his obvious flirtations and push him away, but she didn’t. No, Sierra did the opposite. My stomach clenched tight when she fluttered her lashes and smiled up at him. The bright, shining, wide smile that was usually reserved for me.

Fuck.

One of my buddies and teammates, Jace McAllister, shoulder-bumped me and grinned. “You better go save the day, Banks, before Moyer sinks his claws into your best friend.”

I frowned, wrinkling my brow. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckled. “Somehow Sierra’s completely flown under the Moyer radar all year, but after the way she cheered for you at our last baseball game? Not anymore. And, since he and Heather broke up, he’s on the hunt for his next piece of arm candy.”

“He and Heather broke up?” That was news to me. It made sense though, since I’d found a note with her number in my locker last week. Not that I’d ever use it. Heather Perkinson was a little too…perky for my taste.

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “And the other word on the street is that she’s ready to move from the quarterback to his star receiver. Wouldn’t that be something? You and Heather, Sierra and Danny? You two could double-date!” He laughed as if he’d just said the most hilarious thing.

“Jesus Chris, McAllister. Do you still have your man card, or did you lose it when you were playing bingo with the gossiping old ladies last night?”

He just shook his head. “I’m just giving you a fair warning, Banks. You may be quick on the football field, but you’re clearly slow when it comes to matters of the heart.”

I turned to gape at him. “Matters of the heart? Seriously, McAllister. Where do you come up with this shit?”

He started to speak, but I held a hand up to interrupt him.

“Wait. Don’t tell me. You spend your free time watching Titanic and crying every single time Rose lets Jack go.”

His face turned red, and I knew I was right. But he shrugged me off. “It takes a real man to be comfortable watching that shit. You just may learn a thing or two if you do.”

I was about to remind him that we were fifteen—for me, almost sixteen—year-old dudes. I wasn’t, for any reason, watching that shit.

“Jace, don’t let Jeremy fool you. When I made him go see Message in a Bottle, I caught him shedding a few tears. There’s a soft heart underneath all that brawn.”

My eyes widened when Sierra’s voice chimed in. God, how long had she been there?

“Nice to know, Sierra. I’m manly enough to admit I did the same. Damn Nicholas Sparks,” he said, shaking his head as if the memory were painful.

Which, indeed, it was. I had vowed that it was the last time Sierra got to drag me to a chick flick.

Jace turned back to me. “Think about what I said, Banks. Don’t strike out before you even have a chance to get up to bat.”

With that, he left us alone.

“What was that cryptic baseball metaphor in reference to?” she asked, staring at his back as he walked away from us.

“I have no idea. You know how that guy is. Romantic quips and all that shit. It’s a shock he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but you’re actually right. He’s super cute, and in those baseball pants? Whew,” she said, fanning herself.

My jealousy flared. “Seriously? You have a thing for Jace McAllister?” I asked, trying not to seethe.

She laughed, punching me in the arm. “Of course not. I just meant it is surprising he’s single. He’s good-looking, he’s sweet, and he’s smart. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sierra, you just described me and I’m single, too. Where’s your outrage in that?”

She held her hands to her chest and let out an exaggerated gasp. “God, Jeremy. I just can’t believe it. You’re every girl’s wet dream, knight in shining armor, and perfect man all rolled into one.”

“Smartass.”

“You love me.”

“The paradoxical blessing and curse,” I muttered, causing her to laugh.

“Wow. A big word for such a meathead.”

“You love me,” I echoed, and she beamed at me.

A silence fell over us as we walked home together. If she only knew how true her statement had been. And how much I wished mine were as well.

“Why don’t we stay home tonight?” I asked Sierra as we neared her driveway. The truth was I didn’t want to share her. Not on our last night together.

She laughed and bumped her shoulder into mine. “What are you talking about, Jeremy? You’ve been excited about the end-of-school bash since you were invited by your teammates.”

She was right. Freshmen weren’t usually invited to the football team’s end-of-year beach bash. But, since I was on the varsity team, I’d been extended an invite, and I might have been a little bit smug about it.

“That was before I knew you were leaving me for two months.” I winced at the harshness in my voice.

“Oh,” was all she replied. Oh.

“I just don’t see why you have to go away for the summer. We’re supposed to be living it up. We’re no longer fresh meat. We need to party like its nineteen ninety-nine!”

She laughed so hard that she snorted. “You did not just Prince me.”

“You did not just use Prince as a verb,” I retorted.

“Whatever. In case you forgot, it is nineteen ninety-nine, Jer. We don’t have to party like it anymore. Plus, I’ll be back before school starts and we can party then,” she said.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I still hate that you’re leaving for the entire summer.”

It was the truth. Things with Sierra and me had been evolving ever since we’d stepped foot into high school. It was like we had been transported to a place where just friendship couldn’t exist anymore. It was a slow burn, with little hints here and there, but neither of us made a move.

Call me chickenshit. I would agree. It’s just… The night she’d cried in my arms about Dawson and Joey having ruined everything in their friendship, she’d also made me promise to never let that happen between us. I wanted to point out that, one, it was fiction; two, Joey Potter had nothing on her; three, I was ten times cooler than Dawson, not to mention with a hell of a lot more game; and, four, it was fiction.

But I didn’t. Instead, I promised that would never happen to us. What I meant, however, was the heartbreak thing. Because kissing her?

I’d had that thought over and over and over again.

In fact, just two weeks ago, I’d gotten tired of hiding my feelings. I’d just mustered up the courage to tell her how I felt when she’d dropped the bomb on me.

Okay, I was being dramatic. But still, it’d felt like a blow when she’d informed me that she was spending the summer in Ohio with her grandparents. I was torn. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I had feelings for her. The thought of her meeting a guy in Ohio made me want to Hulk out. At the same time, though, it didn’t seem fair to tell her now, forcing us to start our relationship as a long-distance one.

I was getting ahead of myself. I didn’t even know if Sierra liked me like that, but a guy could hope, right? So I sucked up it and spent the next few weeks whining about her leaving me for an entire summer. I might have asked my mom what she thought about me going to Ohio, too, citing that I’d see a different part of the country and all, but she’d squashed that plan when she’d reminded me about football camp.