Hard to Get

Hard to Get

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 30 Days

BY MICOL OSTOW

Animal Attraction

BY JAMIE PONTI

A Novel Idea

BY AIMEE FRIEDMAN

Scary Beautiful

BY NIKI BURNHAM

Getting to Third Date

BY KELLY MCCLYMER

Dancing Queen

BY ERIN DOWNING

Major Crush

BY JENNIFER ECHOLS

Do-Over

BY NIKI BURNHAM

Love Undercover

BY JO EDWARDS

Prom Crashers

BY ERIN DOWNING

Gettin' Lucky

BY MICOL OSTOW

The Boys Next Door

BY JENNIFER ECHOLS

In the Stars

BY STACIA DEUTSCH AND
RHODY COHON

Crush du Jour

BY MICOL OSTOW

The Secret Life
of a Teenage Siren

BY WENDY TOLIVER

Love, Hollywood Style

BY P.J. RUDITIS

Something Borrowed

BY CATHERINE HAPKA

Party Games

BY WHITNEY LYLES

Puppy Love

BY NANCY KRULIK

The Twelve Dates
of Christmas

BY CATHERINE HAPKA

Sea of Love

BY JAMIE PONTI

Miss Match

BY WENDY TOLIVER

Love on Cue

BY CATHERINE HAPKA

Drive Me Crazy

BY ERIN DOWNING

Love Off-Limits

BY WHITNEY LYLES

The Ex Games

BY JENNIFER ECHOLS

Perfect Shot

BY DEBBIE RIGAUD

Available from Simon Pulse

the romantic comedies

EMMA CARLSON BERNE

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It 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 work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE

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First Simon Pulse paperback edition February 2010

Copyright © 2010 by Emma Bernay

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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Designed by Ann Zeak

The text of this book was set in Garamond 3.

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Control Number 2009936202

ISBN 978-1-4169-8951-6

ISBN 978-1-4391-5625-4 (eBook)

For H. B. B.—the best reason
to keep writing

Sincere thanks and appreciation go to my agent, Michael Bourret, who took a chance on me when he didn't have to, and to my editor, Michael del Rosario, for his keen and witty insight. Writing this book has been a yearlong journey I never would have completed without the unswerving support of my husband, Aaron. Thanks also to him for paying the bills. And Henry—thank you for brightening so many days when I stumbled blearily from my computer to rest my eyes on your chubby little face.

Hard to Get

This is the longest night of my entire life.
I rolled over in bed for the millionth time, opened one eye, and squinted at my bedside clock. 3:00 a.m. I groaned, kicked off the blanket, and fanned some air under the sheet.
Just relax
.
Think nice thoughts.
Okay, nice thoughts. Cookie-dough ice cream. Sunbathing. Road trips. Boys with green eyes. Kissing. Kissing!

“Arrghh!” I thrashed around as the image of Dave kissing Taylor Kilburn flashed through my brain once more. I clawed at my pillow, wishing it were Dave's face instead. Again the scenario from last week played itself out in my mind. It was like some grisly highway accident you can't help
staring at, even though you know you really shouldn't look.

After coming home last Monday, I realized I had forgotten my chem text and had to drive back to school late in the afternoon to get it. That's when I saw them. I remembered the bang of the metal door against the brick wall of the high school. Myself emerging, squinting in the bright sunlight, text clutched in my arms. Dave's car parked in the middle of the empty parking lot. My heart leaping. I thought he had come to pick me up. My lifted hand wilting halfway through the wave as I recognized
two
figures in the front seat. My feet rooted to the ground like weeds as I stared openmouthed at the heads bent close to each other. Dave's face turning toward me, his eyes wide. My frantic, stumbling retreat back into the deserted school.

Now, with one violent motion, I threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. I tugged at the window. The creaky wood stuck and then gave slowly with a screech of protest. I leaned out into the cool night air. “You're a giant jerk, Dave!” I shouted into the silent suburban night. “Do you hear me, you cheating stinkwad?” My voice echoed
across the neatly fenced yard. Far away, a dog barked in response. I couldn't tell if he agreed.

I leaned my head on the window frame. How could I have been so wrong about Dave? I had totally misjudged him—and I never did that. And why
Taylor
? Former beauty pageant contestant who was never without her MAC foundation and plum lip liner? Did he actually like that kind of thing? Apparently so. I slowly rapped my forehead against the glass. Judging from the way his face was mashed into hers, he liked that kind of thing a lot.

Dave and I had been together since last summer, my longest relationship so far. Everything had seemed perfect. He was smart, cute, athletic, funny—all the things I wanted in a boyfriend. It was true he'd been a little distant ever since we got back from skiing at his parents' cabin over spring break, but I'd assumed he was busy with classes, like me.

Oh yeah, he was busy.
I slammed the window shut and climbed back into bed.
Just not with classes.
I pulled up the tangled sheet and stared at the clock.

3:25 a.m.

The next morning I blearily inventoried the train wreck staring back at me in the mirror. Pasty skin. Dark circles under the eyes. Sleep wrinkles across one cheek. I took a few futile swipes at my hair, gave up, and threw it into a messy bun on top of my head. Eyes still mostly closed, I plucked my favorite old jeans from the back of my desk chair, where I'd thrown them the night before, and pulled on a navy blue tank top. So what if I looked like dog meat? It wasn't like I had a boyfriend to impress.