Today he was taller, of course, and cut with muscle…and he was peering at her with the most beautiful gold eyes framed by thick black lashes. Peering at her. Not the other girls. But…his hands still rested on her waist. He could probably feel the fat rolls underneath her shirt.
Tensing, Dorothea jumped away from him to sever contact.
He frowned at her. “Everything okay here?”
His voice! So low and husky. Her heart leaped into her throat, making it impossible to breathe or speak or even pretend to be cool.
Unaffected by his presence, Harlow flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. “This is a private conversation. Move along, Daneroni.”
Two years ago, when Harlow had given him the nickname—Daniel plus pepperoni—he’d had a problem with acne. But he didn’t have a problem anymore. The summer sun had cleared his skin, bronzing him to perfection. In his black T-shirt and faded jeans, he was the guy every girl dreamed of dating.
An-n-nd he stepped in front of Dorothea…acting as her shield? Her eyes widened as he leaned down, going nose to nose with Harlow. “You’re the queen bitch. Everyone gets it. Don’t be surprised when someone pushes you off your throne.”
The color drained from her majesty’s cheeks, but she gave her hair another flick, as if she’d never been more confident. “You obviously lost brain cells when you gained biceps, so I’m going to let this infraction slide. Just know this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now—move—along.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “How about you give me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I’ll actually like and move to a new town?”
Dorothea gaped. Daniel Porter, the hottest boy ever born, had just out-bullied Harlow Glass.
Forget crushing on him. There, in that moment, Dorothea fell madly, deeply and passionately in love with him. My hero!
Harlow kissed the tips of her fingers, then blew him a kiss with only the middle one extended. “Come on, girls,” she said as she shouldered him out of the way. “Let’s give Daniel time to think about the error of his ways.”
The group marched off. Madison glanced over her shoulder to wink at Daniel.
Something dark rolled through Dorothea. Jealousy? She moved, blocking the love of her life from the blonde and perfect cheerleader’s view. “Thank you. For everything.”
He bestowed his full attention on her, and oh, my stars. She almost melted into a puddle of goo. His eyelashes! They were so long they curled at the ends.
When he smiled at her, revealing straight, white teeth newly freed from braces, she forgot how to breathe.
“Don’t let Harlow’s cruelty get you down,” he said. “She likes herself, which means she has terrible taste. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
Her still-thumping heart dropped into her ankles. Perfect? Her?
He gently chucked her under the chin. “See you around, Dottie.”
He knows my name! A nickname she suddenly loved.
As he strode down the hall, she called, “Yes! I’ll see you around!” Then her cheeks blistered with humiliation. Shrieking at him like a banshee? Not cool.
And oh, wow, had he seriously called her perfect?
Waves of feminine pride flooded her, something she’d never before experienced. Shoulders squaring, chin lifting with more attitude, she made her way to her new locker and dropped off her backpack.
A senior—Jessica Kay Dillon—had the locker next to hers. Tears welled in Jessie Kay’s eyes as she wiped whipped cream off the door. Dorothea caught the remaining letters—L-U-T—and swallowed a groan. Harlow must have spelled slut.
Jessie Kay had a reputation as “easily had and easily forgotten,” and Dorothea’s heart suddenly ached for her. The pretty blonde and her sister Brook Lynn had lost both of their parents. Their uncle had come to stay with them, but he must not have had any money to spare, because Jessie Kay’s clothes were ill fitting and threadbare.
Dorothea repeated what Daniel had just said to her, because—obviously—the words had the power to change everything. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
“Like your opinion matters,” the blonde snapped before stomping away.
A little of Dorothea’s newfound confidence wilted. I’m strong. I’m brave. I’m perfect. Daniel wasn’t a liar.
She floated to first period on a cloud of euphoria. What if she flirted with him? How would he respond? Would he ask her out? What if he fell in love with her, they got married and had a million babies?
Dorothea smiled. She had two long-term goals: become a meteorologist, and have a large family. She’d always been fascinated by weather, in all its many forms, and the more kids she had, the more people who would be obligated to adore her. Now, however, she added a third goal: enchant Daniel.
What career did he want for himself? What college did he hope to attend?
As her teacher droned on and on, Dorothea watched the clock, desperate for lunch hour to arrive so she could see Daniel. What if he invited her to sit at his table?
What if his friends teased him about spending time with her?
Her stomach twisted into sharp little knots. Maybe she should admire Daniel from afar. Just until she’d changed her social status from dead to alive.
But shouldn’t he like her regardless of her station?
By the time first…second…and third periods ended, she’d worked herself into a lather about whether or not to approach Daniel. Was she reaching too high too fast? Oh, crap, she was, wasn’t she? When had anyone ever wanted her?
Dorothea trudged to the cafeteria. When she spotted a smirking Harlow, she whipped around and rushed to the band room, her sanctuary, as if her feet were on fire.
She would be brave tomorrow.
She glanced over her shoulder as she turned the doorknob. Spotting Jessie Kay, who may or may not have noticed her, she quickly and quietly shut herself inside. The lights were out. Good. If Harlow had given chase, she might not think to look here. And if she did look here, she might not see Dorothea in the shadows.
Coward! Shame coated her skin like a sticky film. This isn’t strong, and this isn’t brave. Daniel would never fall for—
A low moan drifted through the air.
Oh, crap! Someone had beaten her to the hideaway. Someone injured?
Dorothea rounded two rows of ceiling-high shelves, each stacked with different musical instruments and—