Love Edy Read Free Page A

twin appeared in the
quarterback’s place.
    “He smells,” Matt announced, then blinked as
if just noticing Chloe. “Thinking out loud. Sorry. But he’s not
your type, is he?”
    Edy smirked. Of course he is. Of course, they were. For all the obvious reasons.
    “You mean Jeff?” Chloe said. She hesitated
as if still trying to figure out if the quarterback had B.O. “I
don’t really know him. I—”
    Matt flicked an impatient hand. “Tell me
what you think of Lil’ Dy—er, Lawrence ,” he said.
    “Think?” Chloe echoed.
    Oh Lord.
    “You do think of him, don’t you?” he
said.
    Matt smiled as if he knew some well-shrouded
secret. Chloe blushed, though whether from his presence or some
homed-in thought was impossible to tell.
    Edy supposed it made no difference to a girl
like Chloe Castillo. It made no difference whether she won over
Matt or Mason or Lawrence. Lawrence, like his brothers, was a
starter. He could talk to Chloe or any one of the mindless girls
that infested their high school, and he could snag her with minimal
effort. She, in turn, would be hysterical with glee.
    “Coming?” a voice at Edy’s ear said.
    She lurched at the sound of Hassan, then
scolded her skittering pulse. He was close, close enough to dampen
her ear with his lips. Edy yanked the reins on her runaway heart,
urging it to steady. He was the same boy he’d always been, and she,
the same girl.
    But her buck wild heart begged to
differ.
    He startled me, that’s all.
    Edy turned to face him a moment too late.
She spied the top of his hair amidst a second rush of teammates as
they swept Hassan up and into the house.
    Eventually, Edy made her way in, ushered by
the cold. In a living room that stood grand even while defaced with
the presence of drunken teens, she had her back to the wall, eyes
on a solid mass of dancers rocking to hip hop. A decade of
professional instruction in ballet made it no easier for her to go
out there and join them. She wasn’t trendy, nor did she keep up
with the latest dance fads. They moved with the jolts and jerks of
the untrained.
    But it wasn’t just that. For Edy, anything
not intricately choreographed belonged to the theater of her
bedroom. So, she would keep to the wall, watch and wait. For one
song, two songs, ten.
    Only then did she see the slender redhead
ascending the stairs, hand laced with Hassan’s.
    Edy’s heart stilled and her lungs flattened,
waiting for him to pull away.
    When they disappeared from view together,
she fled.
    ~~~
    Matt and Mason were at the center of a
crowd, executing a series of jerking and improvised shuffle-
-steps. They perfected grinds and lurches, stopping only to consult
each other, before pulling out a pair of giggling girls to
regurgitate their choreography.
    It was easy for them. Little more than a
double dose of nonsense, Matt and Mason could get serious about
nothing but football. Tall and dark, lean and athletic, lithe and
dependable, somehow, Matt and Mason could make a girl want them
even when she shouldn’t, even when she ought to know better.
    Hassan took a sip of beer–his first ever—and
cringed at its rankness. He imagined his father catching him just
then, voice thick and rippling with the accent of his homeland.
He’d rage for an hour and smack him upside the head to make sure
that the message stuck. It wouldn’t. What he did with the beer
afterward would depend on whether or not Hassan’s mother was
around. If so, Hassan’s father would toss it away. If not, he’d
tackle it in a mouthful of enthusiastic swallows.
    Hassan made eye contact with a red-haired
girl that was older and definitely staring. She licked lush, wet,
pink lips, causing him to look away. Was she putting on a show for
him? A second glance said she was.
    “Aimee,” Matt announced, and Hassan jerked
as if caught. “Aimee Foss, a junior.”
    He took the beer from Hassan, gulped it, and
handed it back.
    Hassan risked another look. Weeks ago,
before he made the