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One mistake and seventeen-year-old Shake LeCasse lost everything. Now there’s no going back and no way to move forward. The once-popular Varsity hockey captain is living in the basement of a grandmother he barely knows, ditching school, avoiding friends and working hard on self-destruction.
She’s the girl nobody sees.
Cleo Lee survives however she can. Lie, cheat, steal, whatever it takes, and saving Mr. Popular isn’t part of the plan. Telling him the truth about the night that destroyed his life is downright dangerous. She needs to keep quiet, be smart and let the guy she’s been half in love with since middle school throw away a future she’d do anything to have. Too bad she sucks at playing it safe.
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His moment of vulnerability is my moment of insanity:
“Wanna get food?” he asks.
There are only two of us in the car, but he must be asking someone else. I say nothing and assume he’ll realize his mistake.
My mouth works for a moment or two before I produce actual words. “No money.”
“Are you being nice to me?”
“I’m wasted. And hungry.” He shrugs. “And I owe you.”
This is exciting stuff, but I can’t walk downtown with him. There are limits to my risk taking. I’d be safer running in traffic blindfolded and carrying sharp scissors.
“We could grab some burgers or something,” he offers, sounding hesitant, as if he expects to be turned down.
His moment of vulnerability is my moment of insanity, because I hear myself saying, “Pizza?”
“Get cheese. No pepperoni. Pick it up. I’ll meet you back here.”
“Pay attention. Just cheese dude. We’ll meet up.”
“Cuz I don’t like pepperoni.”
“No. Why meet?”
“Keep up Sasquatch. I don’t like meat on my pizza.”
“Not meat. Meet. M...E...E...T.”
“Are we still talking about pepperoni?”
“If I’m paying, pepperoni is non-negotiable,” he decides. “I’m asking why we can’t just go together.”
“Cuz you didn’t buy me a corsage and rent a tux. And I got shit to do. Put on your big boy pants. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Regular shit,” I snap. “None-of-your-business shit.”
“Bullshit. With all your practice you should be better at lying.” He pushes me upright, jerking the bud out of my ear and adjusting so we’re facing each other. “What’s the problem Cleo?”
I don’t look at him as I feed him a teaspoon of honesty. “Me. You. Not a good idea.”
He tilts his head down to catch my eye and his hair flops in his face. God I love those fat blonde curls. I want to pull them straight and watch them bounce back. I want to feel them slide through the spaces between my fingers while I devour that mouth, which is frowning in a really adorable way.
“Explain it to me, Cleo. What’s going on right now?”
“Nobody wants to see us hanging out together.”
“So this is about a bunch of nobodies?”
About the Author: Emily Award Finalist and Melody Of Love Award Finalist, Charisse M Moritz divides her life between upstate NY and northern Florida. When not barricaded inside her writing cave or enjoying every possible minute with her husband and three kids, you’ll find her listening to 60’s music, singing offkey and looking for new reads.
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