Read the Ex Games 1 Online Free
The Ex Games
How NOT to Spend
Your Senior Year
BY CAMERON DOKEY
Royally Jacked
BY NIKI BURNHAM
Ripped at the Seams
BY NANCY KRULIK
Spin Control
BY NIKI BURNHAM
Cupidity
By CAROLINE GOODE
South Beach Sizzle
BY SUZANNE WEYN AND
DIANA GONZALEZ
She's Got the Beat
BY NANCY KRULIK
30 Guys in thirty Days
BY MICOL OSTOW
Animal Attraction
Past JAMIE PONTI
A Novel Idea
By AIMEE FRIEDMAN
Scary Cute
By NIKI BURNHAM
Getting to Tertiary Date
Past KELLY MCCLYMER
Dancing Queen
BY ERIN DOWNING
Major Crush
BY JENNIFER ECHOLS
Practice-Over
By NIKI BURNHAM
Love Undercover
Past JO EDWARDS
Prom Crashers
By ERIN DOWNING
Gettin' Lucky
By MICOL OSTOW
The Boys Adjacent Door
Past JENNIFER ECHOLS
In the Stars
BY STACIA DEUTSCH AND
RHODY COHON
Beat du Jour
Past MICOL OSTOW
The Underground Life
of a Teenage Siren
BY WENDY TOLIVER
Honey, Hollywood Style
By P.J. RUDITIS
Something Borrowed
Past CATHERINE HAPKA
Party Games
BY WHITNEY LYLES
Puppy Love
BY NANCY KRULIK
The Twelve Dates
of Christmas
By CATHERINE HAPKA
Body of water of Love
By JAMIE PONTI
Miss Friction match
Past WENDY TOLIVER
Love on Cue
BY CATHERINE HAPKA
Drive Me Crazy
BY ERIN DOWNING
Dear Off-Limits
BY WHITNEY LYLES
Available from Simon Pulse
The Ex Games
JENNIFER ECHOLS
If you purchased this book without a embrace, you should be aware that this book is stolen holding. Information technology was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
This book is a piece of work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or existent locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the production of the author'south imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely casual.
SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children'south Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Simon Pulse paperback edition October 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Echols
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in role in whatever form.
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Designed by Ann Zeak
The text of this book was set in Garamond iii.
Manufactured in the The states of America
10 nine viii vii 6 five iv three 2 one
Library of Congress Control Number 2009923186
ISBN: 978-i-4169-7846-6
ISBN: 978-one-4169-8538-ix (eBook)
For Amy
seat belt
seat chugalug
(st chugalug) due north. 1. a trick in which a snowboarder reaches across the trunk and grabs the board while getting air 2. what Hayden needs to spike, because Nick is virtually to accept her for a ride
At the groan of a door opening, I looked up from my chemistry notebook. I'd been diagramming molecules then I wouldn't accept whatever homework to actually take home. But as I'd stared at the white paper, it had dissolved into a snowy slalom grade. The hydrogen and oxygen atoms had transformed into gates for me to snowboard betwixt. My ruby-red pen had traced my path, curving dorsum and forth, swish, classy, swish, down the page. I could almost feel the icy wind on my cheeks and smell the pine trees. I couldn't wait to become out of schoolhouse and caput for the mount.
Until I saw information technology was Nick coming out the door of Ms. Abernathy'south room and into the hall. At six anxiety tall, he filled the doorway with his model-perfect looks and self attitude. He flicked his night hair out of his eyes with his little finger, looked down at me, and grinned brilliantly.
My first thought was, Oh no: fuel for the burn down. Most a month ago, one of my all-time friends had hooked up with one of Nick's best friends. And so, a few weeks ago, my other all-time friend and Nick'southward other best friend had gotten together. It was fate. Nick and I were next, right?
Wrong. Everybody in our class remembered that Nick and I had been a couple four years ago, in seventh class. They gleefully recalled our breakup and the resulting brouhaha. They watched us now for our entertainment value, dying to know whether we'd get out again. Unfortunately for them, they needed to stick to DVDs and Wii to fill up up their spare time. Nick and I weren't going to happen.
My second idea was, Ah, those deep brown eyes.
Perchance snowboarding could wait a fiddling longer, after all.
"Fancy meeting y'all here, Hoyden." He closed the door behind him, also hard. He must have gotten in problem for talking over again, and Ms. Abernathy had sent him out in the hall.
Bring together the guild. From my seat confronting the cement block wall of our high school's science wing, I gazed up at him—mode, way up, considering I was on the floor—and tried my best to glare. The first fourth dimension he'd called me Hoyden, years ago, I'd sneaked a peek in the lexicon to look upwards what it meant: a noisy daughter. Non exactly flattering. Non exactly a lie, either. But I couldn't permit him know I felt flattered that he'd taken the time to wait upwards a word in the dictionary to insult me with. Because that would make me insane, desperate, and in unrequited love.
He slapped his forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry, I meant Hayden. I get confused." He had a way of saying oh and then innocently, like he had no idea he'd insulted me. Sometimes new girls bought his deed, at to the lowest degree for their kickoff few weeks at our school. They were taken past the idea of hooking up with Nick Krieger, who occasionally was featured in teen heartthrob magazines as the heir to the Krieger Meats and Meat Products fortune. And Nick obliged these girls—at least for a few dates, until he dumped them.
I knew his blueprint all likewise well. When I'd first moved to Snow, Colorado, I had been i of those girls. He'd made me feel similar a princess for a whole month. No, ameliorate—like a cool, hip teenage girl who dated! The fantasy culminated with one deep kiss shared in the dorsum row of the picture palace with half our English class watching u.s.a.. It didn't end well, thus the aforementioned brouhaha.
I blinked the stars out of my eyes. "Fancy seeing y'all here, Ex."
He gave me his smile of sexy confidence, dropped his backpack, and sank to the floor beside me. "What practice you retrieve of Davis and Liz?"
My heart had absolutely no reason to skip a beat. He was not asking me out. He was request me my opinio
n of my friend Liz and his friend Davis as a couple. That did not necessarily hateful he was heeding public opinion that he and I were next to assemble. Liz and Davis were a legitimate topic of gossip.
I managed to say breezily, "Oh, they'll become forth great until they discuss where to proceed a date. Then he'll insist they become where she wants to go. She'll insist they get where he wants to go. They'll end up sitting in her driveway all night, fighting to the decease over who can exist more thoughtful and polite."
Nick chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. Because he'd sat downwards so close to me and our arms were touching, sort of, nether layers and layers of clothing, I felt the vibration of his vocalisation. Just again, my center had no reason—echo, no reason—to skip two beats, or perchance 3, just because I'd made Nick express mirth. He made everybody feel this skilful about their stupid jokes, from the nearly popular daughter in our class down to the chick with directly hair and canteen glasses who wore long denim skirts with her Nikes.
"And what's upwards with Gavin and Chloe?" he asked next.
"Chloe and Gavin are an accident waiting to happen." I couldn't empathize this mismatch between the class president and the course bad boy, and it was a relief finally to vocalism my concerns, even if information technology was to Nick. "They're both as well stiff-willed to make it together long. Yous watch. They're adorable together now, but before long they'll accept an argument that makes our tween-love Armageddon wait similar a happy childhood retentiveness."
Of a sudden it occurred to me that I'd said way also much, and Nick would likely repeat this unflattering characterization to Gavin, who would accept it right back to Chloe. I really did agree this opinion of Chloe and Gavin's chances at true love, but I'd never intended to share it! I lost my inhibitions when I looked into Nick'due south dark eyes, damn him.
I slid my arm effectually him conspiratorially—not as titillating every bit it sounds, considering his parka was very puffy—and cooed, "But that'southward just between you and me. I know how expert yous are at keeping secrets."
He pursed his lips and gazed at me reproachfully for throwing our seventh-class history in his face, times two. Back and then he'd brought our tween-love Armageddon on himself past letting our whole class in on his secret while he kept me in the dark.
Non that I was biting.
But instead of jabbing back at me, he slipped his arm effectually me, also. And I was not wearing a puffy parka, merely a couple of T-shirts, both of which had ridden upward a little in the back. I knew this without looking considering I felt the oestrus of his fingers on my bare skin, higher up the waistband of my jeans. My face probably turned a few shades redder than my hair.
"Now, Hoyden," he reprimanded me, "Valentine'southward Day is a calendar week from tomorrow. We don't want to ruin that special day for Gavin and Chloe or Davis and Liz. We should put aside our differences for the sake of the kids."
I couldn't aid bursting into unladylike laughter.
I expected him to remove his hand from my hip in revulsion at my outburst, but he kept it there. I knew he was but toying with me, I knew this, but I sure did enjoy it. If the primary had walked by merely then and sensed what I was thinking, I would have gotten detention.
"Four years is a long fourth dimension for u.s.a. to be separated," he crooned. "We've both had a risk to think well-nigh what we actually want from our relationship."
This was true. Over the four years since we'd been together, I'd come up to the heartbreaking realization that no boy in my schoolhouse was as hot every bit Nick, nobody was as much fun, and nobody was nearly as much of an ass. For instance, he'd generated fire-crotch comments nigh me as I passed his table in the lunchroom yesterday.
Remember when another heir called a certain red-haired extra a fire-crotch on camera? No? Well, I call back. Redheads across America sucked in a collective gasp, considering we knew. The jokes boys made to united states about Raggedy Ann, the Wendy's girl, and Pippi Longstocking would finally stop, equally nosotros'd always hoped, only to be replaced by something infinitely worse.
And so when I heard fire-crotch whispered in the lunchroom, I assumed it was meant for me. Nick was the kickoff suspect I glanced at. His mouth was closed as he listened to the conversation at the tiffin table. However, when there was commentary effectually school near me, Nick was always in the vicinity. He might not have made the annotate, but I knew in my heart he was responsible.
Now I chose not to relay my thoughts on our four-year-long trial separation, lest he take his warm hand off my hip. Instead, I played along. "Are yous saying yous didn't sign the papers, so our divorce was never finalized?"
"I'grand maxim maybe we should telephone call off the court proceedings and try a reconciliation." A strand of his nighttime hair came untucked from behind his ear, and he jerked his caput back to swing the pilus out of his eyes. Oooh, I loved it when he did that! I had something of a Nick problem.
His pilus fell right dorsum into his eyes. Sometimes when this happened, he followed up the head jerk with the pinkie flick, just not this time. He watched me, waiting for me to say something. Oops. I'd forgotten I was staring at him in awe.
A reconciliation? Probably he was just teasing me, as usual. But what if this was his veiled way of asking me on a date? What if he was feeling me out to run across whether I wanted to go with him before he asked me direct? This was how Nick worked. He had to win. He never took a bet that wasn't a sure affair.
And if he'd been listening to everyone in class prodding him to inquire me out, the timing was perfect, if I did say so myself. He was between girlfriends (not that I kept upwardly with his dating status) and therefore complimentary to gather with me. Everett Walsh, my boyfriend of two months, had broken up with me last calendar week considering his mama idea I was brazen (no!). Therefore I was free to get together with Nick.
Playing it cool, I relaxed against the wall and gave his poofy parka a squeeze, which he probably couldn't feel through the padding. With my other hand, I establish his fingers in his lap and touched the engraving on his signet ring, which he'd told me dorsum in 7th course was the Krieger family crest. It depicted bloodthirsty lions and the antlers of the hapless deer they'd attacked and devoured—which seemed apt for our relationship in seventh class, simply not for our relationship at present, in eleventh. I was no deer in the headlights. Not anymore. Coyly I said, "I'll mention it to my lawyer." Ha!
He eyed me uneasily, similar I was a chemistry lab experiment gone awry and foaming over. But Nick was never truly uneasy. He was just taken aback that I hadn't fallen at his feet. And so he asked, "What are you doing for wintertime break?"
Winter pause was next week. We lived in a ski resort boondocks. It seemed barbarous to lock united states up in school the unabridged wintertime. They let the states out for a week every Feb, since the base might or might not first to cook past spring break in Apr.
Was he just making convo, whiling away our terminal few minutes of incarceration at school, or did he actually want to know what I was doing during our days off? Once more I got the distinct and astonishing impression that he wanted to ask me out. Maybe I should notify Ms. Abernathy of a prophylactic take a chance in her chemistry classroom. Evidently I had inhaled hallucinatory gas just earlier she kicked me out.
"I'one thousand boarding with my brother today," I said, counting on my fingers. "Tomorrow I'm boarding with Liz. Really, Liz skis rather than boards, just she keeps up with me pretty well. I'chiliad boarding with some friends coming from Aspen on Sun, the cheerleading squad on Mon—"
Nick laughed. "Basically, anyone who volition board with you."
"I judge I become around," I agreed. "I'm on the mountain a lot. Near people become tired of boarding subsequently a while, which I do non sympathize at all. And and then on Tuesday, I've entered that large snowboarding competition."
"Really!" He sounded interested and surprised, but his hand underneath my hand permit me know he was more interested in throwing me into a hot tizzy than in anything I had to say. He slid his hand, and my hand with it, from his lap and over to my thigh. "You're going off the bound? Did you get over your fright of heights?"
So he'd been listening to me after all.
/> My friends knew I'd broken my leg rappelling when I was twelve. That actually led, in a roundabout way, to my family unit's move from Tennessee to Colorado. My dad was a nurse, and he got and so interested in my physical rehab that he and my mom decided to open a health guild. Only they didn't think they could make it fly in Tennessee. The best identify for a privately endemic health club specializing in concrete rehab was a town with a lot of rich people and broken legs.
Though my ain leg had healed past the time we moved, I was however and so shell-shocked from my fall that I never would have tried snowboarding if my parents hadn't made me go with my little brother, Josh, to keep him from killing himself on the mountain. Josh was a big function of the reason I'd gotten pretty good. Any girl would get pretty good trying to keep up with a boy snowboarder three years younger who was half insane.
And that'southward how I became the earth's only snowboarder with the ability to land a frontside 900 in the one-half-piping and with a crippling fear of heights. Non a good combination if I wanted to compete nationally.
"This competition'due south dissimilar," I said. Growing warmer, I watched his fingers massaging the soft denim of my jeans. "For one time, the only events are the slalom and the half-piping. No big air or slopestyle or anything that would involve a bound. Chloe and Liz swore they'd never forgive me if I didn't enter this one."
"You've got a chance," Nick bodacious me. "I've seen you around on the slopes. You're skillful compared with most of the regulars on the mountain."
I shrugged—a small, nice shrug, not a big shrug that would dislodge his hand from my hip and his other hand from my thigh. "Thank you, only I look some random chick from Aspen to sweep in and kick my donkey." And when that happened, I certain could utilise someone to comfort me in the agony of defeat, hint hint. But Nick was only toying with me. Nick was just toying with me. I could repeat this mantra a meg times in my caput, yet no affair how strong my willpower, his fingers rubbing across my jeans threatened to turn me into a nervous gigglefest. Sometimes I wished I were one of those cheerleaders/prom queens/rich socialite snowbunnies who seemed to interest Nick for a day or two at a fourth dimension. I wondered if whatsoever of them had given in to Nick's fingers rubbing across their jeans, and whether I would too, if he asked.
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