That Boy: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 1)

I grab my phone and am just getting ready to dial Phillip’s number for our nightly phone call when the phone rings in my hand and startles me. I look at the caller ID, expecting to see Phillip’s number, but instead I see Renner, David.

Who the heck is David Renner?

Was that the name of the hot guy Lisa and I met at the sporting goods store the other day?

She used to detest going to the sporting goods store with me, but she’s recently discovered that it’s one of the few place guys actually like to shop. I mean, how many guys has she ever met in her girlie stores?

Exactly none!

So, while I was trying on jogging shorts, she was trying on boys. Well, not literally, but she did get herself a date and, well, supposedly one for me, too, with this guy’s friend. Who, I might add, is clearly not capable of getting his own dates. I mean, he is not very fortunate in the looks department. So, aside from the fact that I already have a boyfriend, I’m sure I will be coming down with something highly contagious this Friday.

Then, it hits me.

Renner.

Allison Renner. Phillip’s girlfriend, right?

Is he calling me from her house? No, it’s past ten, his school night curfew.

As if he needs one. I swear, he’s the only person I know—and quite possibly the only teen in the entire universe—who prides himself on being home before curfew.

I look across the street and see that his bedroom light is on.

I answer with a polite, “Hello?”

“JJ, this is Allie,” Allison says, using the name her friends call her.

No duh.

“Hey, Allison. What’s up?” I answer, trying to sound pleasant but purposely not using the name her friends call her.

’Cause this is weird. I mean, she and I aren’t good friends.

Honestly, we’re not friends at all. In fact, I really don’t care for her much. She’s very annoying, and she talks a mile a minute. It’s like she hardly needs to breathe. The boys at school make crass remarks about what else that would make her good at. Boys are sick. Anyway, she acts like she owns Phillip, and they’ve only been dating for, like, three weeks. I don’t think she’ll last much longer though.

I’ve never spoken to her on the phone before, so naturally, I get the feeling I’m being set up. You know, like when your friends call you on a three-way call but pretend that only one of them is there, and she tries to get you to say bad stuff about the other friend, who is secretly listening, and then they both get mad at you.

“Um, JJ, I have a quick question for you; it’s about Phillip—well, I’m sure you guessed that, and I mean, I know you guys are neighbors and good friends, and, well, I really need you to tell me something because I really like Phillip, and I don’t want to be stupid and not believe him, but I also don’t want to be stupid and be, like, cheated on.”

God, she talks fast!

“Allison, Phillip is not cheating on you!”

He wouldn’t! He’s not that kind of guy. I mean, granted, he’ll be dumping her soon, but it will be because her clinginess is driving him mad. As in she is always complaining he spends too much time with me. But that’s beside the point.

“What would ever make you think that?”

“Well, I just called him, and he answered the phone in this sweet, sexy voice, and he never talks to me like that.”

“What did he say?”

This should be good. Did he call her another girl’s name?

“He said, ‘Hey, Princess,’” she says, imitating his velvety-smooth voice.

Oh, boy.

Surely, he didn’t. He would never tell.

I’d kill him!

I glance over to his house and see his bedroom light flickering off and on, off and on.

I’m assuming that is some form of SOS.

I hear my computer ding, and I’m sure it’s a message from him. I’ve got to stall this girl.

“Um, Allison, did you ask him who this Princess is?” I ask as I run over to my computer.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, what’d he tell you?”

There is an instant message from Receiver—Phillip. It’s just one-half of a word.

Ash.

I send him back a message from Cess. Everyone thinks it stands for Excess, to which I tend to do everything, but Phillip set up my account, so it’s really short for Princess.

I write, You owe me!

“Um, JJ, you know who it is, don’t you? So, could you please tell me first, so I know if he’s lying to me?”

“Sure, Allison,” I say, bored. “Phillip’s sister, Ashley’s, nickname is Princess,” I lie.

Totally lie.

Her Royal Queeness possibly.

Her Royal Highness, Ruler of the World, perhaps but never a lowly princess.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she gushes. She’s all happy now and rambles on, “I mean, I wanted to believe him, but I just didn’t know what to think, and I mean, his voice sounded all sweet and gentle, and I guess it would make sense that he talks to his sister that way.”

Not.

They fight like crazy.

He really loves her, but he says that it’s his job to annoy her. And he does.

But I’m not really listening to Allison ramble. I’m lost in thought. I never realized it before, but Phillip does have a special voice he uses when he speaks just to me. It’s one of the reasons I love talking to him before I go to sleep. It’s sort of soothing.

I don’t think I would’ve ever qualified it as sexy.

Puh-leeze. That’s just silly.

But, when I talk to him, it’s kind of like I do a brain dump—tell him about my day, the good, the bad, and the ugly—and then he tells me what I should do. Of course, I usually don’t do it, but talking to him is kind of like getting a mental massage.

Allison says, “Thanks, JJ. See you at school.”

I hang up and call Phillip while I type, It’s me! Pick up!

He answers, “Hey, Princess.”

Okay, so it is kind of dreamy.

“You owe me,” I tell him.

“No, you owe me. I could’ve just told her the truth.”

“Yeah, well, then I would’ve had to kick your ass, and I’m afraid that might be damaging to our friendship and your reputation.”

He laughs at me.

Quite possibly because my chances of kicking his buff ass are very slim indeed. But, since I could do it when we were young, I cling to the idea that I still could.

He finds this humorous and told me recently that he would love nothing more than for me to try. Of course, then Danny piped in with the kind of nasty comment only a boy could make, so I let it slide.

“Enough of your girl problems,” I say. “Mark called me tonight and wants to hang out on Saturday.”

Mark was a hot coworker of mine at my short-lived attempt at waitressing. He’s nineteen, in college, and totally hot. Did I mention that? Thick, wavy blond hair, big muscles, great body, hot car.

He’s what Lisa would call a trifecta.

Hot face. Hot bod. Hot car. Trifecta, baby.

Unfortunately, he seems to only see me as his cute little work friend.

Yeah, it blows.

But I’m totally infatuated with the guy. I can’t help it.

Whenever he calls, I drop everything and change all my plans in order to go hang out with him.

Last time, I even ditched my new boyfriend, Dillon. And Danny gave me all sorts of crap about that.

He was like, “Dillon is my friend. You can’t just be doing that.”

But, honestly, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal because Mark and I always just sort of hung out together. And Dillon told me, as long as it was just a friend thing, he was cool with it.

Unfortunately, it has been just a friend thing.

Until last time, that is.

And, this time, he’s asked me to go out to dinner somewhere kinda nice, which makes it sound like an actual date. So, I am really excited!

“What should I do, Phillip? I’m kinda supposed to go to a movie with Dillon.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, we have a date,” I reply curtly.

“So, what’d ya tell Mark?”

“Um, that I’d let him know,” I lie.

“You know, I don’t know why you always jump every time that guy calls, and then when he doesn’t call, you get all depressed. What’s that line he always says?”

I sigh. “‘When you least expect it, expect it.’”

“Yeah, what the heck does that mean anyway?”

We’ve been over this many times before, but I reply, “It means, just when I’m at the end of my rope, waiting to hear from him and close to believing I’ll never hear from him again, that’s when he calls.”

And he does. He’s got it down to an exact science.

“I’m just saying, that isn’t exactly the best way to treat a girl you like.”

“That’s the problem, Phillip; we’re just friends, so it’s not like I can complain about it.”

“I thought you kissed him last time you went out,” Phillip says.

Uh, yeah. And I’ve been reliving it every night and during all my classes for the past few weeks. He was such a good kisser. And it was perfect, exactly how I had imagined it. I thought, This is it. He wants me. We’ll be together, and it will be amazing.

Then …

One week …

No call.

I told myself that, if he didn’t call in two more days, I would never speak to him again.

Then …

Two weeks …

Still no call.

By then, I gave up hope of ever hearing from him again and convinced myself that it was just a dream. I also decided, if he did ever call, I might speak to him but only to make sure he was still alive because I was a concerned citizen. But, after that, I was going to give that boy a piece of my mind!

Finally, after two weeks and three days, he called and asked me to dinner.

I wanted to scream at him, You freaking jerk, but I caved and said, “That sounds great.”

I’m so dumb.

Hey, wait a minute. I know Phillip never forgets anything, but I don’t recall telling him this piece of information. I haven’t even told Lisa. I was keeping it to myself.

Hoarding it.

Plus, I seriously didn’t want Danny to find out. Or Dillon, for that matter.

“Uh,” I stammer, unsure of how to answer.

“No, you didn’t tell me he kissed you,” he says, reading my mind.

I swear, he can sometimes.

“I saw him all over you when he dropped you off.”

“Phillip, were you spying on me?”

“Actually, no,” he says in a believable tone. “I was seeing if your light was on.”

Sure.

“Phillip, what should I do?”

“What you should do is tell him you’re busy—for once. But what you’re gonna do is break up with Dillon and go out with him. Right?”

Okay, so the boy has me figured out. And he’s right. That is what I’ll do. How can I help it?

Hot face. Hot bod. Hot car. Trifecta. Triple threat.

“So, what are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I already kinda said yes,” I say, telling the truth this time.

“Told you. You’re hopeless! Night, Princess.”

“Night, Phillip.”

I go to bed, thinking of Mark and willing myself to have a juicy dream about him. But, instead, I have some warped one where Phillip rescues me from Mark’s car because Mark has turned into some evil werewolf/vampire creature.

Bizarre.

So, my date on Saturday with Mark didn’t go so well. I suppose my dream should have been an indication of what was to come. It seemed Mark decided, unbeknownst to me, that he wanted to be more than just friends.

A lot more!

He took me parking before dinner. I said no way, and he took me straight home. Aren’t guys supposed to at least buy you dinner before they expect that? I was so upset. And, of course, Danny is mad at me for breaking up with Dillon, and Dillon is still mad at me for breaking up with him.

Maybe I’ll just give up on boys.

Okay, maybe not.

I mean, they’re just so cute!