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

“Mom,” I yell as I bound down the stairs to the kitchen. “Can you tie these strings in tight double knots for me?” I’m holding my bikini top up to my chest. The straps are trailing behind me.

It’s the day of the Summer Bash, and I’m running late—as usual. Jake will be here any minute, and I am so not ready.

Mom is standing at the kitchen sink. Dad is sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Sports section.

He glances up and quickly reverts to the paper. Then, his head comes flying back up. He looks at Mom and then at me and says, “You’re not wearing that, are you, Jadyn?”

No, I just put it on for fun and am having Mom tie it for no reason.

But I don’t have time for any hassle right now. I’m late enough as it is.

So, I say in my sweet, polite voice, “Yes, a swimsuit is required attire for a beach party.”

I give him my I’m your little angel, and I can do no wrong look as I slide over with my back toward Mom, holding my top against my chest with one hand and my hair up with the other.

“Double knots, please,” I say quietly to her.

I don’t want it coming undone at an inopportune time.

Dad says to Mom in an edgy tone, “Don’t you think that swimsuit is a little skimpy, Ronny?”

My mom’s real name is Veronica.

Veronica James Reynolds.

James was my great-great-grandma’s maiden name. All firstborn girls since my great-grandma have had James as their middle name, thus my weird middle name. And, evidently, giving your daughter a boy’s name for a nickname also runs in the family. I seriously didn’t even know my name was Jadyn until I went to kindergarten. Daddy always calls me Angel, and everyone else always calls me JJ.

I’m only Jadyn when I’m in big trouble.

I know what’s coming next.

I don’t let Mom answer Dad’s question. I jump into the conversation by saying, “Mom helped me pick it out, Dad. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Well, it might be cute, but I don’t think it is particularly appropriate for someone your age,” he declares like he is the ruler of the free world.

Unfortunately, of my free—I think not—world.

“Dad, come on. I’m seventeen. Besides Mom said I should wear …” I glance at Mom.

She is clearly giving me the shut up signal, crossing her hand in front of her neck and her eyes bugging out. That, or she is threatening to kill me.

Uh, okay, I get it, I think.

So, I finish, “Uh, I should wear this suit for sunning purposes only.” I nod.

Which I will be doing at the lake.

All day and maybe even into the night.

“Besides, I have a tank top and board shorts that I will wear over it to swim in.”

“Well, you can wear them to sun in at the lake, too, or you’re not wearing it at all. I think it should only be worn for sunning in the backyard.” He thinks about it, squints his eyes at me, and adds, “And definitely no playing football in that thing.”

Uh, yeah … well, it’s a little late for that.

I’ve got to get out of here!

Mom saves the day by saying, “Maybe you should come swimsuit shopping with me and JJ this week, Paul. You can help us pick out something you feel would be appropriate.” She gives Dad a look of defiance, one eyebrow raised in challenge and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

She’s got him so beat.

He’d never go shopping with us in a million years. He still says he is allergic because he equates shopping with torture.

“Uh,” he backtracks, “why don’t you let me see it with the shorts? It’ll probably be okay that way.”

Yeah, I’m sure it will.

After promising to keep the shorts on and finally getting his approval, I fly back up the stairs.

When Jake arrives, I rush out of the house, so he won’t have a chance to talk to my dad.

Needless to say, I don’t wear the shorts at the river, and Jake likes the suit just fine.

Later in the week, I have what starts out as a great dream. I’m in the empty lot, playing catch with Phillip and Danny. We’re having so much fun because Danny and I don’t fight about anything.

It’s like the perfect day.

Strangely, Danny disappears, and I relive tripping Phillip—sort of on purpose—like the other day. He sits on top of me and holds me down.

Then, the dream gets really weird.

He leans in to yell at me but starts kissing me instead. And, well, he does some other stuff, too.

What a nightmare!

Phillip is like a brother to me.

I don’t … I mean, I can’t … well, I shouldn’t think about him like that.

It’s practically incestuous!

But, evidently, I’m pretty warped because not only did I really enjoy the dream, but I also keep finding myself wanting to have it again.

And it’s freaking me out.

It really, really is.