Aimee and the Heartthrob Read Free Page B

didn’t run far.” Miles pointed his chin toward the girl in the yellow dress. He was a little surprised when she made eye contact with him from across the room because, at this point, she was supposed to start shrieking or crying or turn away, too embarrassed to actually talk.
    But, no. Not only was she maintaining eye contact, she smiled at him like before, making his heart give a few hard beats. That was new, and nice.
    Along with the pounding heart, his mouth dried up when the girl lowered her phone and started walking across the lobby. Right bloody toward him. Without so much as a finger crook. Oh, it was too perfect. He’d be able to show Nick what a player he was—or was pretending to be.
    “Don’t look now, but here she comes,” Miles said, feeling like a show-off douchebag, but also like one lucky heartthrob as the girl closed the distance. “You’re about to get one more personal demonstration, my friend. Watch and learn.”
    “Miles. Hey. Player !”
    Miles flinched when Nick suddenly had him by the shoulder and was glaring daggers at him.
    “You’re my best friend,” Nick said, “which means I know you way too well. So don’t think for one second that I’d let you demonstrate any of your skills on Aimee.”
    “Aimee?” Miles almost laughed. “Your little sister? Dude, believe me, there’s no way I’d ever…” His voice trailed off as he followed Nick’s gaze, pointing at the girl in yellow.

Chapter Two
    It was part humiliation and part vindication. Vindication because Miles had flirted with her, or at least Aimee thought he was flirting. But it was also obvious he hadn’t recognized her, not one single spark of acknowledgment in his eyes. A lot had changed in the last two years. She’d shot up like a weed (as Dad put it), and everything else—like her hair and cup size—had luckily followed suit, making her stand out from all her friends. So it was understandable that Miles didn’t know it was her right away.
    The humiliation part came from that same realization. He hadn’t recognized her. The boy she’d dreamed about all those years had no clue who she was.
    That same vindication flickered in her chest at the way Miles was smiling at her across the room. Nick was standing with him now, which made Aimee instantly remember what her brother had told her a few months after Miles left home to live with S2J: Miles thought Aimee was an annoying little kid who was always in the way, and she meant nothing to him.
    Bitterness and hurt feelings froze that vindication as she walked toward the guys. Miles was staring at her, that perfect smile replaced by shock.
    So now he knew.
    “Aimee.” His sky-blue eyes were wide. “Bloody ’ell.”
    Damn it. That stupid, adorable accent. When he’d first moved to L.A. from England, it had been thicker, but it never disappeared completely, especially when he was nervous or excited.
    Aimee hated that she knew that about Miles and noticed it when he was talking to her now. Why should he be excited to see her? Or nervous?
    “Hey,” she said, not wanting to be rude to the guy, even though she had every right.
    “So. That was funny before.” He nodded to where they’d been standing earlier and ran a hand over the top of his blond hair.
    For as long as she could remember, he’d worn his hair the same way, short on the sides, longer on top and spiky in front. He’d called it his “mistake haircut,” because it wasn’t what he’d described to the hairdresser at the mall. Now it was his signature, splashed across every cover of Twist .
    Aimee had heard way too many girls gush about Miles Carlisle’s hair. She had to admit, it was pretty perfect, styled yet purposefully disheveled. It used to look exactly the same when she’d see him in the kitchen on Saturday mornings after he’d slept over at their house. How many professional stylists did it take to give him that rolled-out-of-bed look now?
    “What was funny?” she asked.
    “How I didn’t