Get Lucky: A YA Anthology Read online

  It’s my last year here. I see Penny for a month out of the year, chat with her occasionally online, but we only have camp with each other. Yet, she’s still the greatest friend I’ve ever had. And I’m about to say goodbye to it. To her. Right when I realize just how important she is.

  I clear my throat, and get out of the way of her backswing. The look on her face falls, almost like she’s worried she did something wrong. I try to smile to chase that look away.

  “I will win,” I say, clearing my throat yet again because my voice hasn’t come back to normal. “If you aim for those trees.”

  She studies me for a long minute until she shrugs and mutters down at the ball, “Eh, what do I have to lose?”

  Then she does the perfect swing, and the rest goes down in ninth hole history.

  Chapter 7

  Faith, Trust… (and a stroke of luck)

  Penny

  I stare at the ninth hole, the Titleist resting deep inside the cup. It’s still spinning from the long putt I just made.

  Jensen’s doing some kind of crazy monkey dance, and it goes perfectly with the thundering background beat we’ve got going on.

  I did it. I made par on the devil hole.

  “You, my good ma’am, owe me a night out!” Jensen calls from across the green. That’s when it really hits—that swooping sensation in the pit of my tummy that says I actually achieved one of my summer goals. With a Titleist, no less.

  The putter in my hand thumps on the ground, and I do one of those Six Flags kicks into the air. I join Jensen in his flailed dancing, shaking my hips all across the green. He goes right up to the hole and wiggles his butt at it, saying, “Suck it, Nine!” making me laugh and snort and feel like I’ve overdosed on exhilaration.

  This is, hands down, one of the greatest moments of my life. And instead of thinking about what I’ve just accomplished, all I can think about is how grateful I am that Jensen is the one to share it with me.

  He grins wide, chest moving up and down with his heavy breathing. The more I stare at him, the more I want to jump into his arms and have him swing me around, totally Hollywood style. But before I can even move a step forward, the first drop from the scary clouds finally falls, right onto his wide nose.

  “Uh oh…” he says, and those drops start multiplying. He races past me to grab up his putter, and we take off through the storm. By the time we get to the cabins, Jensen’s head is completely soaked—and mine probably would be too if he hadn’t insisted on me using the umbrella.

  “Should we rain check?” I call out to him over the weather. He sneaks his way under the umbrella with me, and a shiver runs up my spine that may not be entirely weather induced.

  “Let’s chill in your cabin till it passes.”

  I throw him a look. “You just want to be with the girls.”

  “Maybe,” he says, and I punch him for it. “Or maybe I know all the instructors went karaoke-ing tonight so the cabin’s empty.”

  “What? Why weren’t we invited?” My lip juts out, and his gaze drops to it. I feel like I need to be looking at his lips now, too, and all I can focus on is the rain spattered over his skin, drizzling down onto his white polo, soaking the material and letting me get a much better look than I bargained for.

  He’s freaking gorgeous. I have no idea what took me so long to see it. And, as fate would have it, I notice too late. That ever familiar sinking feeling of loss triples in my stomach, and I don’t know how it happens, but my arms are suddenly wrapped around his torso, my face pressed against the wetness of his shirt, and my heart is aching to keep him here with me until the end of time.

  I can feel his body tense with surprise, and if he says something I don’t hear it over the rain. The umbrella is long gone, dropped from my hand at some point in my attempt to cling onto him.

  His palm hits the middle of my back, runs across it until he too is holding on to me as hard as I am to him. His cheek drops onto the top of my head, and it’s raining, it’s cold, and I have no idea how I’m going to explain my way out of this embrace, yet I don’t care. I close my eyes and pretend that in a few weeks’ time we’ll be saying goodbye, but not for forever.

  * * *

  I toss Jensen a folded towel, and he stuffs it under his butt while I proceed to sit on my own folded towel.

  “You can change,” he says with a tilt of his brow. “I promise I won’t walk in on you.”

  “I’m not changing unless you’re changing,” I throw back at him. We’ve already argued over this, and I’m not budging. If he’s too lazy to go get a change of dry clothes that is not ten feet away, then I’m going to sit here and freeze with him.

  He lets out a frustrated growl, letting his head fall back. “Fine. But I’m gonna get just as wet on my way back over.”

  “Take the umbrella.”

  “You mean the one we left out in the mud?”

  “Change here, then. Grab clothes and protect them from the rain while you run back.” I cross my arms to emphasize my genius. “You go, and I’ll get into my warm jammy jams.”

  He laughs at my choice of words. “All right.” He rises from the floor and turns around to point a finger at me. “Don’t you dare lock that door.”

  “Aye, aye!” I salute him and he salutes back, indicating I can be at ease. Goodness, I’m going to miss him.

  While he braves the storm for some clothing, I duck inside the bathroom and strip. Every piece, including my bra and underwear, are dripping like I took a nosedive in the pool. I sling them over the shower rod and dry off, ignoring the giant mirror in front of me. Not really a huge fan of seeing myself naked, and I know it’ll only make me feel self-conscious when I’d like to relax and be myself. Jensen and I have too few nights together for me to be worried about stupid stuff.

  He’s still not back when I emerge from the bathroom, so I plop onto my bunk and grab the notebook from under my pillow. I open it to the middle page where I’ve listed my summer goals and cross off number 3.

  “Scha-wing!” I sing as my pen flies across the paper. “Ninth hole, you’ve just been goaled.”

  My smile touches my ears as I cross it out again and again. I honestly thought that would be the one I’d leave uncrossed for the rest of time, but, as I look over my list, it’s one of two that I’ve achieved thus far.

  The top goal on my sheet is make a difference. Kira still won’t golf in front of people, other than me after hours, and none of the other 9 Irons really connect with me. Jensen’s the easy favorite, and I really can’t blame them. He knows what he’s doing. I can’t believe he doesn’t want to even try to come back next year.

  I get it—why he won’t be back—but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less.

  I put that on my list after that first night—spend more time with Jensen. I could probably cross it off, but I don’t. Feels like, even with all the time I’ve already spent with him, it’s still not enough.

  My thumb clicks my pen in and out while I peruse the rest of my goals. Learn more from other instructors, make more friends, and perfect my chipping abilities… A bubble of laughter falls from my lips when I see number 2 surrounded by a bunch of little hearts.

  Summer love.

  I click the pen on and scribble it out until it’s completely covered. What a pipe dream. And good thing it never happened because I’d be missing out on all the time I have with my best friend.

  “Phew!” Jensen says, making me jump on the bed. He’s dripping, but the clothes he’s holding away from his body are more damp than they are wet.

  He shakes his head like a dog, but it does nothing because his hair is so short.

  “Go change!” I laugh, tossing one of the towels at him. It flops a few feet short, and he snatches it up on his way to the bathroom. Huh… I wonder if he looks at himself naked when he changes. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  I unclick my pen and stick it in my notebook, then jam it back under my pillow. Crap, I didn’t do my hair. I bet it’s a mess now since it poured a
nd all I did before it rained was stuff it into a ponytail.

  I rip the elastic out of it and start frantically pulling at the strands to make them at least semi-cute, even though they’re wet… so much for not being self-conscious.

  Jensen steps out of the bathroom wearing a dark blue graphic tee and a pair of striped pajama pants that are mostly dry. My tongue gets swallowed up by the onslaught of hormones that run crazy under my skin. He’s always been nice to look at—okay maybe not during those 9 Iron years—in his polos and golf pants, and even better in his bathing suit last week. But I think I’m digging the comfy, relaxed wardrobe on Jensen. It’s almost as if we’re having a slumber party, and that thought just takes off in my head to very un-G-rated imagery.

  “So…” I say, jutting my eyes to the much less sexy bathroom door. “What’s my punishment?”

  “Punishment?” He drops his jaw. “Is it pure torture to have me pick the activity?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  He laughs, and his long legs bound him up on the bed. He criss-cross-applesauces across from me and nods to my phone.

  “Movie?”

  “Do you know the Wi-Fi password?” Our second year here, the owners got Wi-Fi for the camp, but after experiencing an entire week of instructors and campers paying more attention to their phones than the training, they locked it up.

  “They unlock it every weekend.”

  “They do?” How did I not notice this?

  “For the instructors,” he clarifies. “You haven’t paid attention because you always want to go over lesson plans.”

  “Or you’re dumping me in the ocean,” I fire back. I’m not a complete buzz kill, no matter what he says.

  He grins and nods at my phone again. “I’ll log you into Netflix.”

  “Really?” I ask. “You want to just… watch a movie? Out of all the things—”

  “To do during a storm?” he finishes, even though that was not what I was going to say. “Well, I guess we could make out for a while if you want.”

  My heart is going to climb right out of my chest and rest in his hand. Making out doesn’t sound so bad, but I’m not going to let him in on my little secret.

  “We’re doing what you want,” I say, leaning back against my pillow and plucking my phone from the charger. I give it a good fling, and Jensen fumbles it into his lap.

  “Hmm…” he hums while he signs into his account. “What to watch…”

  “Nothing scary,” I push up so I can peek at what he’s browsing for. “Seriously, the storm is enough for me.”

  “Alrighty.” He surprisingly agrees with me. “Comedy? Action? TV show?”

  “Um…” I lean a bit closer and notice his eyes flick up from the screen. I can feel him watching me, and I know I’m looking at Netflix options, but I don’t really comprehend any of the choices. All I’m doing is forcing my eyes not to meet his.

  “I can’t see,” I blurt for no reason, because I can see. One of his eyebrows rises, and he pushes up off his butt and pats my hip so I can give him some space. My breathing turns as rapid as a river when he settles his back into my pillow and extends an arm for me to rest on.

  I follow his lead because I’d feel stupid if I just sat there. His t-shirt is old and worn, but it’s not uncomfortable to snuggle into. Or maybe that’s just Jensen—making potential awkward situations completely not awkward.

  He settles my phone in front of our faces, his breathing matching the same beat as mine. We could give this storm a run for its money.

  “Pick,” he says, pulling up a list for me.

  “It’s your choice, though.”

  “I narrowed it down to these five.” He smiles, but it feels nervous and less airy than his usual grins. Still just as nice, though. “I want to be surprised.”

  I push a hand over my eyes and blindly poke at the screen. He laughs as I completely miss the phone, and then he directs me to the right place. We settle in for a binge, watching three episodes of Saved by the Bell, one episode of Buffy, and then we start Freaks and Geeks. The whole time all I can think about is how warm he is, how I don’t want to move, and whenever one of us adjusts, the other follows so that we can stay cuddled together.

  The arm wrapped around me starts rubbing my hip where my shirt has risen up. My skin pops with goose bumps, and I suck in a breath and hold it. At first I think that he can do that for as long as he wants, but the longer he continues to caress and hold me, the more I want to twist in his arms and take him up on that make out session. I sit through an episode and a half of Freaks and Geeks before I finally get the nerve to ask him flat.

  “Were you serious about… you know… making out?” I barely whisper. When he doesn’t answer, I brave a peek at his face, expecting a look of amused bewilderment. Instead, I’m met with a drooped head and completely shut eyes.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Oh, thank goodness he didn’t hear my momentary lapse in judgment. A smile teases the corners of my mouth, and I softly nudge him.

  “Jensen?”

  Nothing.

  Silencing my laughter, I turn off the phone and carefully lean over him to set it on the nightstand. Poor guy’s probably so exhausted from his day on the golf course. I watch him sleep for a moment, grinning stupidly at his nose whistling and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Something wraps around my heart, and I realize that this ache inside me is more than missing him. It’s way more than that.

  My eyes flick to the pillow, and my teeth tug on my bottom lip as I sneak a hand underneath it. I pull slowly, stopping at any sign of him waking. Jensen only moves once, but he’s back into his slumber quickly after. I yank on my notebook and settle on my butt at the end of the bed.

  Summer love, I jot down again at the bottom of the list. Jensen flips to his side, nearly knocking the notebook out of my hands. I stifle my laughter until he settles down again, and then my heart gives a tug and my stomach lunges.

  I have to tell him before he leaves. I have to say it at least once, or I’ll regret it forever, I just know. Because even though we have an expiration date, every girl should tell her first love exactly how she feels.

  My gaze drops to the list in my lap, and I press my pen to the side of the goal I’d just written in there. With one more look at my slumbering, adorable best friend, I cross that item off.

  Chapter 8

  Faith, Trust…(and a kiss for good luck)

  Jensen

  The end of camp is creeping ever closer, and I thought I’d be okay—sure, I’d be a little sad at never coming back, but I’d be more excited to start a new venture. Boy, was I wrong.

  Penny’s walking up and down the driving range, watching the 9 Irons as they hit off their tees. Why did I wait so long to close the gaps in our friendship? I felt sparks growing up with her every summer, but I never thought anything of it. I’m slapping my past self for not speaking up. I can’t say anything now—it’s hardly fair to tell her how I feel when there’s such a slim chance of ever seeing her again.

  I tear my eyes away from her, trying to concentrate on my swing. During instruction time I try to get as much practice in as I can. If I make it on the tour, not only will I live out a dream my grandpa’s been waiting to see, there’s a definite possibility of seeing Penny since the tour goes right through her hometown.

  The Camp Eagle tourney is this weekend, and the rumor around camp about Chris stealing it this year is no joke. I’ve watched him out on the course, and he’s gonna give me a run for my money.

  A stray drive comes barreling past my nose, and I jerk back with a stunned laugh. Barry, one of the 9 Irons, cracks up as I turn to see bright red cheeks resting on Kira’s face. Her driver is still poised in the air.

  “I… I’m sorry, Jensen, sir.”

  The corner of my mouth picks up, and I flash a glance at Penny’s wide smile, before looking back to Kira.

  “That was you?” I drop my jaw and bring my hands up for a clap. “Ladies and gentleman, Kira’s ball has b
een hit!”

  The 9 Irons give her a congratulatory golf clap before returning to their own drives, but Kira’s mouth turns down.

  “It… I messed up,” she mumbles, and her eyes meet Penny’s. Kira lets the driver swing back down, shoulders slumping, but Penny’s grin hasn’t been deterred. She leans down and says something to Kira that I can’t hear over the clinking of the other drives on the range. The brightness in Penny’s eyes can be seen from here, though, and it causes my heart to palpitate a little harder. She’s wanted to see Kira at least try to hit the ball in front of other people.

  Instead of going back to my practicing—which I should be doing—I watch, fascinated by the exchange. Penny’s always been the eager learner, but this year has been so different, and I can’t help but think how hot she looks when she’s teaching. There’s this hopeful determination to make a difference. She has no clue that she already has.

  Penny pats Kira on the shoulder, and then steps back with an encouraging smile. As soon as Kira turns, Penny’s mask falls right off, revealing the nervous, anxious girl I’ve come to really adore.

  The line of 9 Irons between Kira and me all hit three balls before she finally, finally, draws her driver back, then connects with the Callaway on the tee. It soars off into the range, a gorgeous spin on it. The squeal I’m all too familiar with sounds from Penny’s exhilarated lips, and Kira turns around with the widest grin I’ve ever seen from that girl.

  I want to go celebrate with them, put my arms around Penny, and feel her excitement in such close proximity. My heart’s still pounding under my white polo, increasing its tempo every time I catch Penny’s happy gaze.