The Promise of Amazing by Robin Constantine Read Free Book Online

someone’s life, you always had some connection. But then he’d looked at me, those bangs grazing his eyebrows, the top button of his tee casually undone, and it wasn’t only his well-being I thought about.
    That was a feeling I wasn’t ready to get lost in again. I was supposed to be thinking about what I wanted to do with my life, not who I wanted to do. Or was it whom ?

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
    FOUR
    GRAYSON
    ALL WAS QUIET IN CASA DEL BARRETT WHEN I GOT home. There was a note on the island.
Grayson ,
Your father has a late showing, and I’m off to my monthly sales meeting .
Tilapia in the fridge. Take your shot of acai .
btw—your mother called again. CALL HER. She says it’s urgent. Why aren’t you answering your cell?
Kiss, Kiss—Tiff
    I dashed off a mental reply.
Hey, Tiff ,
Tilapia is too fishy and I need a splash of vodka with my acai, but thanks for thinking of me .
btw . . . I’m avoiding Mom. I DO NOT need reminding that I’ve completely dropped the college ball once again. They don’t let fuckups into Columbia. No matter how many strings her alumn ASSmunch alumnus husband can pull .
Gray
    I nuked some pizza rolls, grabbed a Coke, and sat down on the sectional in the dark. It was like a reflex. Dinnertime = FOOD. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. I was . . . agitated. Ticked.
    Why did I let Wren just walk away?
    She was even prettier than I remembered, with her light hair loose around her face. And she’d been anxious, even a little shy at first. The kind of girl I could have eating out of my hand. Instead I’d opened up my mouth and all the old bullshit came tumbling out.
    Why? I hadn’t intended to confess anything—all I wanted to do was thank her, give her a ride home and maybe strike up a friendship. Then she mentioned her brother. While I hardly knew Josh Caswell, I’m sure he knew me, or at least about me. Hell, the St. Gabe’s lunch ladies probably knew the sad, strange tale of my term-paper-pimp demise. Better that the story come from the source . . . but it was more than that too. There was a genuineness about Wren that made me feel likeI didn’t have to put up a front. Like she really saw me . Past the BS, the cool hair, the stupid attempt to draw attention to myself like a silverback gorilla.
    I sank deeper into the leather sofa Tiff had picked out to give our great room a more masculine feel. My ass slipped until half my torso was parallel to the floor. The perfect position for how I felt at the moment. Spineless.
    Why didn’t I have the nerve to ask for her number? I knew I could get it some other way, but I wanted her to give it to me. That would tell me a lot. Just like not giving it to me said something. She didn’t trust me. And after today, why would she? Smart girl.
    My pocket vibrated. I picked up without even checking. Might as well deal with my mother and her college-application assault.
    “Mom.”
    “Dude, it’s about time.”
    I stiffened.
    “Luke,” I said, sitting up. “Should have screened.”
    “Harsh, Grayson. So is it true you almost bought it last Friday?”
    “Maybe. How’d you find out?”
    “The stepmother mafia. This is huge news down the pike. You choked . . . some cocktail waitress saved you. Sounds like a sexy way to go—was she wearing fishnets and a tight skirt?”
    An involuntary smile crossed my lips. It pissed me off thathe could win me over so easily, but I had to admit: I missed my daily dose of Dobson.
    “C’mon, Grayeesun, you know I’m just jabbin’ at ya. Saint Gabe’s is so boring without your ugly mug roaming the halls. How are you dealing with the bottom-feeders in Bergen Point?”
    “What do you want, Luke?”
    “Just wondering why you haven’t returned my calls, bro.”
    There was a time a call from Luke was a call to the hunt. For parties. For girls. For epic nights I knew would be legend in our high school