Enjoy the following excerpt for LET ME BE THE ONE…
Fifteen years ago, Palo Alto High
School
Victoria Bennett
couldn’t take her eyes off Ryan Sullivan, who was laughing with
some of the guys on his baseball team, as she headed through the high
school parking lot toward the art store on University Avenue.
None of the other
girls in her tenth-grade class could take their eyes off him, either,
so at least she didn’t stick out. Not for that reason, anyway. Her
clay-stained fingers and clothes—along with the “new girl” sign
she felt like she was wearing during her first few weeks at every new
school—did that with no help whatsoever from Ryan...or his
ridiculously good looks.
Normally, she could
have gotten over his pretty face without much trouble. As an artist,
she always worked to look beneath the surface of things, to try to
find out what was really at the heart of a painting or sculpture or
song. That went for people, too. Especially boys who, as far as she
could tell, only ever told a girl what they wanted to hear for one
reason.
No, what had her
stuck on Ryan Sullivan was the fact that he was always laughing.
Somehow, without being the class clown, he had a gift for putting
people at ease and making them feel good.
Before she could
catch herself, she put her fingers to her lips...and wondered what it
would feel like if he kissed her.
She yanked her hand
away from her mouth. Not just because dreaming of his kisses was
borderline pathetic given the utter unlikelihood of that scenario,
but because she needed to stay focused on her art.
She wasn’t just
another tenth grader mooning over the hottest boy in school.
She was studying
her muse.
Vicki had never
been much interested in sculpting formal busts before. Old, dead,
overly serious guys in gray didn’t really do it for her. But it had
only taken a few minutes near Ryan at lunch her first day on campus
to be inspired to capture his laughter in clay. She wished she could
get closer to all that easy joy—if only to figure out how to
translate it from her mind’s eye to the clay beneath her fingers.
Yes, she thought
with a small smile, she was perfectly willing to suffer for her art.
Especially if it meant staring at Ryan Sullivan.
The light turned
from red to green and she could have picked up her pace and made it
across the street. Only, she’d been having such trouble getting the
corners of the eyes and mouth just right on her Laughing Boy
sculpture. Knowing there wasn’t a chance that Ryan or his friends
would notice her, rather than leaving the school grounds, she closed
the distance between them in as nonchalant a manner as she could,
while surreptitiously watching him from beneath the veil of the bangs
that had grown too long over her eyes during the summer.
A few seconds
later, his friends high-fived him and walked away. Ryan bent down to
finish packing up a long, narrow black bag at his feet, which she
guessed held his baseball stuff.
What, she wondered
on an appreciative sigh at the way the muscles on his forearms and
shoulders flexed as he picked up the bag, would happen if she talked
to him? And what would he say if she outright asked him to pose for
her?
She was on the
verge of laughing out loud at her crazy thoughts when she heard a
squeal coming from the parking lot. In a split second she realized an
out-of-control car was whipping straight toward Ryan.
There wasn’t time
to plan, or to think. Vicki sprinted across the several feet between
them and threw herself at him.
“Car!”
Fortunately, Ryan’s
natural athleticism kicked in right away. Even though she was the one
trying to pull him out of the way, less than a heartbeat later he was
lifting her and practically throwing her across the grass before
leaping to cover her body with his.
She scrunched her
eyes tightly shut as the car careened past, so close that she could
feel the hairs on her arms lifting in its wake. Breathing hard, Vicki
clung to Ryan. Wetness moved across her cheeks and she belatedly
realized tears must have sprung up from landing so hard on the grass.
The seconds ticked
by as if in slow motion, one hard, thudding heartbeat after another
from Ryan’s chest to hers and then back again from hers to his. He
was so strong, so warm, so beautifully real. She wanted to lie like
this with him forever, more intimately, closer than she’d ever been
with another boy.
Only, voices were
rising in pitch all around her, and suddenly, the reality of what had
just happened hit.
Oh my God,
they’d both almost died!
She was starting to
feel faint when he lifted his head and smiled down at her.
“Hi, I’m Ryan.”
The way he said it,
as if she didn’t already know who he was, pierced through her
shock. He acted like it was normal to be sprawled over a girl. Which,
she suddenly realized, it probably was. For him.
Definitely not
for her, though.
Her lips were dry
and she had to lick them once, twice, before saying, “I’m
Victoria.” The words, “But my friends call me Vicki,” slipped
out before she could pull them back in.
His smile widened
and her heart started beating even faster. Not from shock this time,
but from pure, unfettered teenage hormones kicked into overdrive by
his beautiful smile.
“Thank you for
saving my life, Vicki.” A moment later, his smile disappeared as he
took in her tear-streaked cheeks. The eyes that she’d seen filled
with laughter so many times during the first two weeks of school grew
serious. “I hurt you.”
She would have told
him no, and that she was fine, but all breath and words were stolen
from her the instant he brushed his fingertips over her cheeks to
wipe away her tears.
Somehow, she
managed to shake her head, and to get her lips to form the word no,
even though no sound followed.
His laughing eyes
were dark now, and more intense than she’d ever seen them. “Are
you sure? I didn’t mean to land so hard on you.”
“I’m—”
How was she
supposed to keep her brain working when he’d begun the slow,
shockingly sweet process of running his hands over the back of her
skull, and then down to her shoulders and upper arms?
One more word. That
was all she needed to get out to answer his question.
“—fine.”
“Good.” His
voice was deeper, richer, than any of the other fifteen-year-old
boys. “I’m glad.”
But as he stared
down at her, his expression continued to grow even more intense and
she found herself holding her breath.
Was he going to
kiss her now? Had her life just turned into the quintessential
after-school-special fantasy, the one where the artsy girl caught the
eye of the jock and the whole school was turned upside down by their
unlikely but ultimately perfect and inevitable pairing?
“One day, when
you need me most, I promise I’ll be there for you, Vicki.”
Oh. She
swallowed hard. Oh my.
He hadn’t given
her a kiss...but his promise felt more important than a mere kiss
would have been.
Before she realized
it, he was standing up again and holding out a hand to help her up,
too. Instantly missing his heat, the hard muscles pressing into her
softer ones, all the lies she’d been trying to tell herself about
Ryan simply being a muse scattered out of reach.
“Can I walk you
home?”
Surprised that he
wanted to spend more time with her, she quickly shook her head.
He looked equally
surprised by her response, likely because no girl on earth had ever
turned him down.
“No, I can’t
walk you home?”
She fumbled to
explain. “I’m not going home. I was actually heading over to the
art store to pick up some supplies for a new sculpt—”
She barely stopped
herself from rambling on about her latest project. Why would Ryan
Sullivan care? Besides, she reminded her racing heart with brutal
honesty, he probably had some pretty cheerleaders waiting on him. And
they wouldn’t need an out-of-control car to get him to lie down on
top of them.
Because no matter
how tempting it was to believe that she had suddenly been cast in a
happy-ever-after fairytale romance, the truth was that getting that
close to Ryan had been nothing more than a fluke of fate.
And Vicki remained
the star of her artsy, and often lonely,
move-to-a-new-town-every-year-with-her-military-family teenage life.
Only, for some
strange reason she couldn’t understand, Ryan wasn’t running in
the opposite direction yet. Probably because he felt like he owed
her after she’d saved his life. After all, hadn’t he just
told her that he would be there for her one day when she really
needed him?
“What are you
getting supplies for?” He asked the question as though he were
truly interested, not just acting like it because he felt he should.
“I’m making a—”
Wait, she couldn’t tell him what she was making. Because she was
sculpting him. “I work with clay. Lately, I’ve been trying
to capture specific facial expressions.”
“Which ones?”
Never in a million
years did she think she’d ever speak to him, let alone have this
long a conversation. But, what shocked her most of all was just how
comfortable she felt with him. Even with all of her teenage hormones
on high alert, Ryan was, simply, the easiest person she’d ever been
around.
And she wanted more
time with him than just five stolen minutes on the high school lawn.
Her nerves were
starting to back off a bit by the time she told him, “I started
with all the usual expressions every artist knows best.” She played
it up for him. “Tears. Pain. Suffering. Existential nothingness.”
His laughter made
her feel like she could float all the way to the art store and back.
“Sounds fun.”
“Oh yeah,” she
joked back, “it’s a riot. Which is why I’m trying something
different now.” She took a breath before admitting, “I’m
working on laughter.”
“Laughter, huh?”
He grinned at her. “I like it. How’s it going?”
Being so close to
the full wattage of his smile made her breath catch in her throat. In
an effort to cover her all-too-obvious reaction to him, she scrunched
up her face. “Put it this way, I think I’ve started to resemble
all those other expressions.”
“Even the
existential nothingness one?”
As if she were
watching the two of them from a distance, Vicki knew she’d always
look back to that moment as the one that mattered most. The one where
she fell head over heels in love with Ryan Sullivan.
And not because
of his beautiful outside.
But because he’d
listened.
And, even better,
because he’d appreciated.
“Especially that
one,” she replied.
He picked up her
bag from the grass. “Sounds awesome. Mind if I tag along?”
Okay, so maybe the
two of them didn’t add up on paper, but Vicki couldn’t deny that
they had clicked.
“Sure,” she
said, “if you don’t have anywhere else you have to be.”
He slung his
equipment bag over his other shoulder and walked beside her. “Nothing
more important than hanging out with a new friend.”
This time, she was
the one grinning at him. In the two weeks since she’d moved to Palo
Alto with her family, she hadn’t done a very good job of making
friends at the high school. As an Army brat who moved more years than
not, she’d stopped making the effort a long time ago when she
realized how hard it was to not only break into fully formed cliques,
but also to maintain long-distance friendships once she inevitably
left town.
Ryan made
everything seem so easy, though, as if the only thing that wouldn’t
make sense was their not hanging out.
By the end of their
trip to the art store and back, she knew all about his seven
siblings, he knew she had two annoying little brothers, he’d told
her what he liked about baseball, she’d told him what she loved
about sculpting, and she’d been invited to dinner at the Sullivan
house.
It was the
beginning of a beautiful friendship.
The best one she’d
ever had.
* * *
Present day, San Francisco
Ryan Sullivan threw
his car keys to the valet as he shot past him. The young man’s eyes
widened as he realized that he was not only about to drive a Ferrari
into the underground parking lot, but that it belonged to one of his
sports idols.
“Mr. Sullivan,
sir, don’t you need your valet tag?”
Ryan took his
responsibilities to the fans seriously and made it a point never to
let them down. But tonight the only thing that mattered was Vicki.
Even though a half-dozen missed connections over the years had kept
them from meeting up again in person after high school, they’d kept
in touch through email and phone calls.
Vicki was his
friend.
And he wouldn’t
let anyone hurt one of his friends.
Ryan pushed through
the dark glass doors to the exclusive hotel foyer and made himself
stop long enough to do a quick scan of the glittering room. The
Pacific Union Club wasn’t his kind of place—it was pretentious as
all hell—and he hadn’t thought it would be Vicki’s usual
stomping grounds, either.
So why was she
here? And why hadn’t she told him she was finally coming back to
Northern California after so many years in Europe?
He’d been hanging
at his brother Chase’s new baby celebration when her texts had come
in.
I need your
help. Come quick.
Ryan had cursed
every one of the thirty-five miles into the city from his mother’s
house on the Peninsula. He’d texted Vicki again and again to get
more information, and to make sure that she was okay, but she hadn’t
replied.
He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d been so worried about anyone...or so
ready to do battle. Vicki wasn’t the kind of woman who cried wolf.
She wouldn’t have sent him those texts just to try to get his
attention. She was the only woman he’d ever known apart from his
sisters and mother who had ever been completely real with him, and
who didn’t want anything from him besides his friendship.
His large hands
were tight fists as he surveyed the cocktail lounge, his jaw clenched
tight.
Damn it, where
was she?
If anyone had
touched Vicki the wrong way, or hurt her even the slightest bit, Ryan
would make them pay.
He was famous for
being not only the winningest pitcher in the National Baseball
League, but also one of the most laid-back. Very few people had a
clue about Ryan’s hidden edges, but it wouldn’t take much more to
set him off tonight.
He grabbed the
first person in uniform, his grip hard enough on the young man’s
upper arm that he winced. “Is there a private meeting room?”
The young man
stuttered, “Y-yes, sir.”
“Where is it?”
His hand shook as
he pointed. “On the back side of the bar, but it’s already
reserved toni—”
Ryan hightailed it
through the lounge and it shouldn’t have been that hard to get
through the crowd, but it seemed that every single person in the room
either got up to buy another drink or was trying to get his
attention.
When he found a
subtly hidden door just to the side of the bar, he nearly knocked it
off its hinges in his hurry to open it.
Ryan saw the flash
of Vicki’s long blond hair first, her killer curves second.
Thank God, she
was here, and in one piece.
But his relief was
short-lived when he realized he’d interrupted her and her cocktail
companion just as the man’s hand was sliding onto her thigh.
Vicki jumped off
her seat as Ryan strode into the room. The terror that had been on
her face when the other man touched her leg slowly morphed into
relief at his arrival.
Her companion, on
the other hand, was clearly surprised to see Ryan...and he wasn’t
happy about it, either. The man was probably in his fifties and was
obviously loaded. Or at least wanted people to think he was, holding
meetings in a place like this, wearing a handmade suit.
Quickly conjuring
up an expression of surprise, Vicki said, “What are you doing here
so early, honey?”
...Excerpt from LET ME
BE THE ONE by Bella Andre ©2012.
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