Nicole Williams - The Complete Crash Collection

NICOLE WILLIAMS, author of Crash, Clash, Crush, The Eden Trilogy, and The Patrick Chronicles, is a wife, a mom, and a writer who believes in true love, kindred spirits, and happy endings. Nicole currently lives with her family in Spokane, Washington. You can visit her online at http://nicoleawilliams.blogspot.com.

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For the fine and fabulous girls of the FP. Not a day passes where I dont find myself thankful to have each and every one of you. You inspire me to become a better writer, as well as a better person. You encourage me, let me vent, and arent afraid to tell me to suck it up. Write until theres nothing left to be said. Then write some more.
Love and glitter cannons to you all!

Contents

S ummers turn me into a sucker. Thats why I was glad this one was almost over.

Every year since puberty, from mid-June to early September, Id been sure I was going to meet the real-world equivalent to Prince Charming. Call me old-fashioned, call me hopelessly romantic, you could even call me a fool, but whatever I was, I knew the end resultI was a sucker. To date, Id never found a guy who was worthy to stand in Prince Cs shadow; no real surprise there, as Id discovered more and more that guys were something of a pain in the ass. But here, working on my tan at Sapphire Lakes public beach just a couple of weeks before I was all set to start my senior year at a new school, Id just found me a Prince Hot Damn.

He arrived with a whole mess of guys, tossing a football back and forth, and specimens like this confirmed there had been some kind of divine rule in the universe, because no natural selection process was up to the task of creating something like him. This was some gods handiwork somewhere.

He was tall, his shoulders were wide, and he had those dark ringed eyes with black lashes that had the power to undo a girls best intentions. So, in nonsucker terms, he was just my type. Along with every other woman in the northern hemisphere.

My blue raspberry Slurpee couldnt even compete for my attention. I didnt know his name, didnt know if he had a girlfriend, didnt know if he wanted one, but I knew I was in trouble.

However, it was when his dodging and tackling and sprinting ceased when he glanced my way that I knew I was in big trouble.

The glance was immeasurably longer than every other glance shared with a stranger, but what was conveyed in that shortest of connections cut through me, letting some piece of this stranger work his way inside. Id experienced this before a few times in my life, nothing but an eye connection with a passing stranger begging me to take notice and follow.

To date, I never had, but the last time Id let one of these moments pass was at a restaurant my family went to. This boy dropped a pizza on the table, told us to enjoy, and then, right as he was leaving, he winked at me. My heart went boom-boom, my head got all foggy, and I felt this ache inside when he turned and walked away, like we were tied together by a fixed rope. Id let exactly four of these soul typhoons pass unexplored, but Id made a pact of the utmost sacredness with myself that I wouldnt let a fifth go by in the same kind of way.

I was never sure if the person on the other end of that look felt the same kind of intensity I did, so when Prince Hot Damn spun away, tackling someone into the sand, I knew I ran the risk of him thinking I was one of those girls who made an art form of preying on beautiful boys minding their own business. I didnt careI wouldnt let another one of these moments go. Life was short, and Id been a firm believer in seizing the moment for the majority of my life.

Then he came to another standstill, like my stare was freezing him in place. This time it wasnt a glance. It was a good five-second stare, where his eyes did that dumbfounded thing mine were doing to me. His smile had just begun its upward journey into position when a football whizzed right into the side of his face. It was one of those moments you saw played out in movies: wide-eyed boy staring at girl, oblivious to the world around him until the laces of a football indented his forehead.

Stop staring, Jude! the young boy who had thrown the ball called out. Shes too hot, even for you. And since shes got a book, she probably knows how to read, so shes smart enough to know to avoid guys like you.

I slid my glasses into place as serendipity boy chased after the pint-size teaser, and turned my attention to the book sprawled out beneath me.

I saw the attraction in his eyes, that and more. It was only a matter of how much time he wanted to play it cool until he came over. I had all day.

Thats how I reassured myself as he threw the boy over his shoulder and sprinted into the lake, dunking up and down until the boy was squealing with laughter. I reassured myself again when he and the boy trudged from the water and returned to the cluster of boys playing football and picked up right where he left off, oblivious.

I tried to distract myself with my book, but when I found myself reading the same paragraph for the sixth time, I gave up. Still not another look my way, like I was invisible.

When a second hour passed in the same way, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. If he wasnt going to come to me and I wasnt quite ready to go to him, Id just have to make him. Id found boys were fairly simple creatures to figure out, at least on a primal levelon a mind, heart, and soul matter they were about as confounding to me as thermal dynamicsand since primal was just a nice term for raging hormones, I decided to use their overabundance of teenage boy ones to my advantage.

Grabbing a liter of water from my beach bag, I rose to a stand, making every movement slow and deliberate. At least without looking ridiculous. His eyes werent on me as I adjusted my bikini just so, but a few male sets were. Good sign I was doing the right thing, but bad sign he wasnt noticing, since this whole stunt was set into motion for him.

I pulled the clip from my mass of hair so it fell down my back, and I shook it into position for good measure. I practically cursed under my breath when I chanced another peek. Nada. Whats a girl got to do to get a boys attention these days?

I walked back toward the picnic table, where the newest addition to our family, the furry kind, was still smiling through his panting. So new, in fact, I had yet to name him. Theres a good boy, I said, kneeling beside him, where he was using the shade of the table to his advantage. Since youre of the same gender, although I find your species to be more appealing on so many fronts, do you have any suggestions for how to make that boy mine? I asked, pouring some more water into his bowl as I watched Jude pry a football from the air. The boy played the best game of beach football Id ever had the pleasure of watching.