Breaking the Ice (Juniper Falls) - Softcover

Cross, Julie

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1633758982 ISBN 13: 9781633758988

Verlag: Entangled Publishing, LLC, 2017

Inhaltsangabe

Haley Stevenson seems like she's got it all together: cheer captain, "Princess" of Juniper Falls, and voted Most Likely to Get Things Done. But below the surface, she's struggling with a less-than-stellar GPA and still reeling from the loss of her first love. Repeating her Civics class during summer school is her chance to Get Things Done, not angst over boys. In fact, she's sworn them off completely until college.

Fletcher Scott is happy to keep a low profile around Juniper Falls. He's always been the invisible guy, warming the bench on the hockey team and moonlighting at a job that would make his grandma blush. Suddenly, though, he's finding he wants more: more time on the ice, and more time with his infuriatingly perfect summer-school study partner.

But leave it to a girl who requires perfection to shake up a boy who's ready to break all the rules.

Each book in the Juniper Falls series is STANDALONE:
* Off the Ice
* Breaking the Ice

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

JULIE CROSS lives in central Illinois with her husband and three children. She never wrote fiction before May of 2009, but since then, hasn't gone a day without writing. She is the author of The Tempest Trilogy.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Breaking the Ice

A Juniper Falls Novel

By Julie Cross, Stacy Abrams

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2017 Julie Cross
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-63375-898-8

CHAPTER 1

–FLETCHER–

Tap ... tap ... tap, tap ... tap ... taptaptap.

I zoom in on the purple ballpoint pen, willing it to stop, sending it silent threats. But it won't listen. It's currently under the mercy of the blonde occupying the seat in front of mine.

Tap, tap, tap ... tap, tap ...

Maybe it would be easier to deal with if a sense of rhythm were involved. Maybe it would be easier to deal with if I didn't have the hangover from hell. And if I hadn't gotten up at five in the morning to hit the weight room before hockey practice.

Taaap, tap, tap, tap ... tap ...

My head is seriously about to explode. I shift my focus to the garbage can clear across the classroom. At least the nausea (and puking) subsided by the middle of hockey practice. I need to hydrate right now. Unfortunately, I'm trapped in this classroom for another seventy-two minutes before I get a water break.

I'm barely paying attention to what Mrs. Markson is lecturing about, and she's been at it — emphatic arm-waving and all — for thirty-seven minutes.

Tap ... tap, tap ... tap, tap.

I try to focus on the flowchart explaining the U.S. government chain of command, but the damn pen won't shut up. I blow air out of my cheeks and wipe sweat from my forehead. I probably smell like a brewery. Or possibly the rancid beer spilled on the floor of said brewery. I shouldn't have gone out last night. I shouldn't have even been in Longmeadow last night. Longmeadow is for Saturday nights. Not Tuesday. Not when I'm enrolled in a stupid-ass summer-school course (which I only signed up for so I could have room in my schedule for a dual-credit college Calculus class this fall). Not when I'm working my ass off to earn a starting position on varsity this fall.

For three years, I've been fine with JV, fine with whatever amount of game time I got. But thirty seconds on the ice in the state tournament last March changed everything. I'm hooked. It's all I can think about. This fall is my last year playing hockey, and if the Otters make it to state again, I need more than thirty seconds of ice time.

Tap, tap, tap ...

The sun emerges from behind a cloud and floods the room, making it hard to read the flowchart projected on the wall. Mrs. Markson heads over to adjust the window blinds. The tiny break is a sign. An opening for me to take action.

Half standing, I lean forward and wrap my fingers around the hand gripping the misbehaving purple pen. The pen stills, and I sigh with relief.

Haley Stevenson jumps, like she'd been in a daze and I've just burst her bubble. "What the —"

"Your pen. It's distracting."

"Distracting?" She looks about ready to shove me out of her personal space — the smell is probably getting to her. "How can a pen be distracting?"

I move my hand over hers, forcing the pen to tap several times against the desk — and I make sure to create the most gratingly inconsistent rhythm possible. "That's how."

"I have not been doing that," Haley insists.

We're in the very back of the room, so only a few students take notice of my impulsive handling of the tapping situation. Most are still scrambling to copy down notes. Mrs. Markson could have a career as an auctioneer if she wanted, the way she spits out information like we've all got five brains we can simultaneously use. Normally, the first day of school is a dud. Nothing gets done. But with summer school, the first day equals the first week. No time for small talk or wasting time.

I'm leaning over Haley's shoulder, her big brown eyes staring up at me accusingly. I have a clear view of her notebook. The flowchart, or any of the other projected notes we've been reviewing for more than thirty minutes, is nowhere to be seen. But she has written her name in several different styles of cursive, sometimes including her middle name — Allison — and sometimes adding an initial. She's also doodled some hearts, a few badly drawn geometric cubes, and, crammed into the side column of the page, written with slanted print a "Hump Day To-do List."

I refrain from snickering at the "Hump Day" reference. I'm too old for that. But, while holding her pen still, I do read this very important life-changing to-do list consisting of seven tasks essential to one's mid-June Wednesday survival in Juniper Falls, Minnesota:

1. Write cheers for July 4th demo

2. Teach Kayla B. (and maybe Kayla S.) newest 3-8 counts of competition routine

3. Check UCF site for tryout/clinic dates

4. Day 5 of teeth whitening

5. Underwear drawer

6. Download calorie counter app Jamie mentioned

7. Tumbling at 6 then make dinner for Dad

It isn't really my style to engage in conversation during class. Especially to comment on this list. Where would I even start? I mean, what happens if you miss Day 5 of a teeth-whitening adventure? Or I could comment on the ambiguous underwear drawer. That one definitely has my pounding head working on overdrive. But I don't comment on anything.

Now that my concerns have been addressed, I let go of Haley's hand, freeing the purple pen, and she immediately gives two quick taps against her desk.

All right. That's the last straw.

I pluck the pen from her fingers, tuck it behind my ear, and sink back into my seat. "I'm gonna have to hang on to this until the end of class."

Haley spins halfway around to face me, the surprise in her expression telling me that the most recent taps hadn't been F-you taps. "That's my only pen —"

"Miss Stevenson," our highly caffeinated teacher says, looking right at Haley. "If the president and vice president can no longer serve, who becomes president?"

Haley's face flushes before she's even fully facing forward again. "Um ... the first lady?"

The entire class laughs. Our middle-aged teacher — who takes Civics very seriously — doesn't laugh. Her face pinches like Haley's answer causes her physical pain. "Look at your flowchart, Haley. The answer is right in front of you."

Mrs. Markson's already swiped the flowchart from the projector and replaced it with the Bill of Rights. In front of me, Haley's entire body stiffens. I guess that's what happens when you're consumed with thoughts about your underwear drawer instead of copying notes.

Jesus Christ. Now I'm consumed with thoughts of Haley Stevenson's imaginary underwear drawer (imaginary not because it doesn't exist — I'm confident that it does — but because I've never seen it before). My gaze roams from her ankles, traveling the length of her smooth, very toned, bare legs until I reach the hem of the frayed jean shorts resting high on her thighs. Shorts she'd never be allowed to wear during the regular school year. And yeah, I get this dress-code thing now. I'm completely distracted. I've never had a class with the Princess of Juniper Falls before. It's a small town — one middle school, one high school — so we've always been in proximity to each other, but never this close, I guess.

Two rows over from us, Jamie Isaacs shoots his hand in the air. "It should totally be the first lady. Or a vote. Women voting. A whole bunch of women all voting at once."

"Thank you, Jamie, for granting women the right to vote," Mrs. Markson says...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Entangled Publishing, LLC
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2017
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1633758982
• ISBN 13: 9781633758988
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 300
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar