I shut my book and handed it to him. “Read this and you’ll see.”
He looked down at the cover and scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“What? It’s a classic.”
“Yeah, for prepubescent girls like yourself. Not my thing.”
“Oh, please, you’re only two years older than me. It’s not that much of a difference.”
“I’m two and a half years older than you. I turn twelve in a month.”
“Whatever, I’ve seen your scrawny butt in a bathing suit. You still haven’t hit puberty, either.”
He glared at me a few seconds before looking down at Anne of Green Gables. “Give me one good reason why I should read it.”
“Because she loves books as much as we do.”
This time, Reed smiled. Not a smirk, but a full-out grin that lit up his dark blue eyes. That act alone made my stomach flip and flutter with feelings I wasn’t used to having for Reed.
Did I actually like him now?
“I’ll read it if you promise to keep your mouth shut about it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with your deep, dark secret?”
“Well, you didn’t blabber to our parents about that time you caught me smoking with my friends behind the shed. So I figure you’re good for it.”
“I was seven, and you threatened to cut off the head of my favorite stuffed bunny.”
There was that smirk again. I wanted to hate it like I usually did, but somehow this one didn’t bother me as much; in fact, I kind of liked it.
“Finish the pages you have left,” he said, “then leave the book here.”
2
Diary Disaster
Six Years Later
Tabitha’s Diary
Dear Diary,
Sadly, this will be my last entry. I can barely look at your pink and white stripes without reliving the most humiliating experience of my entire life.
And I’m not exaggerating, like, at all. I am seriously thinking of calling the company that made you and demand titanium locks with unbreakable chains. But that wouldn’t do me any good now! You betrayed me! You lured me in and got me to spill my innermost secrets—secrets I don’t even share with my best friend—and then what did you do? You let Reed Walker pick your sorry excuse of a lock and handed him my heart and soul without my permission.
Backstabber! I will burn you in the fireplace tonight and not even feel bad about it.
But first, I have to skim through all my entries one last time to understand how bad this situation really is…
One hour and twenty-seven minutes later
This is bad. Like nuclear-war-level bad.
I have a whole page dedicated to practicing my signature as the future Mrs. Reed Walker!!!
I spent three stupid pages talking about his lips and what it would feel like to kiss them. WTF was I thinking???
Oh, and I can’t forget about the part where I talk about my virginity and wanting him to be my first. Ugh. I literally wrote out how I wished that night to go. Prom night, rose petals on the bed? How cheesy. He’s a senior, and I’m a freshman. He’ll be away at college by the time I put on a prom dress. I highly doubt he’ll be thinking of me then.
And, of course, there’s the fact that he’s my best friend’s brother. How am I ever going to be able to step foot in their house again?
Oh god, please let him have read only the parts he read aloud.
Two Days Later
Dear Diary,
I saw Reed today for the first time since the incident. He’s being weird about the whole thing. Won’t even look at me, which is what I thought I wanted, but in a way, I kind of miss him teasing me like I’m his baby sister. He’s known me since we were in elementary school. I’ve slept over at their house countless times. I walk through their door without knocking, like a member of the family.
Now it’s just…awkward.
I don’t know how much he read of you, dear diary. He was reading aloud as I caught him and tried to pry you from his hands…until he got to a part where he realized the “he” I was referring to was him.
At first, he made fun of me, reading in a totally exaggerated imitation of a stupid, lovesick teenage girl:
“He stands there talking with friends. He has his arm around her, and I want so badly to be that girl by his side. She’s beautiful. Perky boobs and a butt that fills his hand perfectly. They look like the heavens made them to be together. Arm candy for each other. A natural fit. It’s not that he doesn’t notice me, but he doesn’t truly see me. If he did, he’d know I was in love with him—and I don’t just love those kissable lips or that tousled dark hair or those gorgeous midnight-blue eyes that I could stare into for hours…”
The mockery in his voice faded away as he kept going.
“I love that he secretly likes to read every free moment he can and that he loves using outdated idioms even though he’s considered a jock. I love his wall of book quotes because he was moved enough to write them down…”
And that’s when he stopped reading aloud, obviously catching on.
I can still picture the way his face fell as he silently read a little further before closing you and handing you back to me. His response? “Diaries are for little girls.” And then he walked out of the room, crushing me with five little words.
The rest of what he must’ve read?
“I love how even though he teases me like a sister, he’s protective of me. He may act like the big king of school with his side smile, snarky comments, and confident stride through the hallways, but there’s another part to Reed most don’t see—his heart. It’s much bigger than he lets on.”
What he said was worse than his taunting.
It was a total rejection.
Three Years Later
Reed’s Journal
Just to be clear, this isn’t a frigging diary. It’s a journal. Men have journaled for centuries. Captains of famous ships kept daily logs. Without the written word, so much history would be lost or unknown. Not that I’m trying to write history, but I was told this is a great way to sort out your thoughts.
And, man, I’ve got a lot of them.