Page 39 of Sweetheart

Luckily, it was also only a couple miles from CHS.

I stopped in front of the building.Brick walls painted black.A lot packed with cars.The garage doors were open, and light music drifted through the air, barely discernable above the other sounds coming from inside.Business was clearly booming.

None of that made me pause.

Sure, it would've been nice to go home, flop on my bed and daydream, spend the rest of the day reminiscing about my first kiss.

But I had to get my car.

Which was currently in there.

The only problem: Colton was Colton Bishop, Sam's dad.

I'd met Mr. Bishop a couple times in passing.

But that was before I agreed to fake date his son.

Before the kiss.

Just…before.

School let out a while ago, and I was suddenly filled with nerves.

Was soccer practice over?

Was Sam in there now?

If so, was he obsessing over the kiss as much as me?

Did it mean anything to him?

Why was it so important that the last answer be yes?

And one final, totally-ridiculous-yet-crucial, question swirled in my mind. Regarding the kiss… Wasit too early to ask for a repeat performance?

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the lobby—and felt my shoulders relax.

Despite the cars and flurry of activity in the garage, thisroom was empty.No Sam then.I wasn't sure how to feel.Part of me was relieved, but the other part felt somewhat deflated. I wasn't really ready toface him again—and yet, I wanted to see him more than anything.

Charlotte was right, I thought.

Kissing really does mess with your brain.

"Can I help you?" a voice said from behind the desk, and I startled.

"Uh yeah, hi," I replied. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here."

"That's okay. Everyone says I'm short, but my parentstold me I should hit a growth spurt soon."

When I walked closer to the desk andfinally caught sight of the speaker, I smiled. The boycouldn't have been much older than 10.He was seated behind the desk computer which was whyI hadn't seen him. Darkbrown hair with natural hints of blond, light blue eyes, and naturally pink cheeks. He was in a word: adorable. Andhe was dressed like a mechanic, backward baseball cap affixed to his head, a flannel shirt over a dirty white tee, and jean overalls. In front of him, he had a set ofwrenches he seemed to be polishing.

"How tall are you?" he asked.

"About 5' 6''," I said.

"Oh, I'm going to be much taller than that."

"Really?How do you know?"

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