Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance (3 page)

“Maybe we’re doing them a favor,” I say quietly, slumping back into my seat. It’s a super-pathetic excuse, but it’s all I have. “Because really, have you ever heard Talon talk about Reagan when we’re not together? Has he ever professed his love for her? Because I can honestly say that lately, Reagan only talks about Talon when he’s pissing her off. And maybe she deserves more than that.”

The air in the car thickens, and I’m holding my breath waiting for Wesley’s response. I’m hoping like crazy he says Talon is the same way. That he’ll help me with this, even though it’s going to be incredibly difficult to pull off. We can do it if we help each other, and we’ll all be happy campers when it’s over. And Talon and Reagan will be none the wiser.

He clears his throat, and I clamp my eyes shut preparing myself for the final no.

“If we do this, we can’t mess things up. We can’t move in on them until they’re broken up and one hundred percent over each other.”

My eyes spring open, and I nod like a crazy person. “I promise. We’ll be careful. No ruined friendships or relationships.”

“Except theirs,” he says softly, but I catch it.

“No. We’ll be
helping
theirs.” And that’s not some line, even though he probably thinks it is. I really believe it. That we’ll
all
be a much happier love square if we’re with the right people. And even though Reagan’s been with Talon for almost a year, I don’t see them making each other super happy. Glimpses of it at times, but not like their worlds revolve around each other. Not like they’re in love. No matter what Wesley says, I don’t see it.

I set my hand on Wesley’s arm resting on the steering wheel. “So, you in?”

It takes a minute, or maybe it feels like forever, but he finally looks at me with those hazel eyes and blows his dirty blond hair from his face. “I’m in.”

Progress Report: December 8

I’m an organized freak, I know. I have to write everything down so I can remember things. Guess I’m a visual person. And this journal is a
major
risk since my roomie is super nosy. (If you’re reading this, Reagan, I love you, but the fact that you’re reading this just proves my point. Maybe you should stop now.)

This is progress report numero uno, so, not much has happened except Wesley said he had an idea and to just go with it. I think he’s full of crap, because he wouldn’t tell me what that idea was. Probably serenading Reagan like he does every weekend at open mic night at Phantom’s. Hasn’t worked in the six months since we moved to California, so I really hope he’s thinking of something else. But it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s his plan. *rolls eyes*

I, however, have a
brilliant
idea. I’ve got to pack a bag, get a couple of fake IDs, and ask my parents for a huge loan. I mean, plane tickets to Paris—the romance capital of the world—don’t come cheap.

It involves kidnapping, though, so I suppose we’ll use it as a backup.

(And try not to be too obvious about it.)

“Love lifts us up where we belong!”

Reagan’s replaying her
Moulin Rouge
soundtrack, belting out the song they sing on top of that huge elephant, smiling her big giddy smile she uses right after hot and heavy … 
Ugh
. I don’t even want to think about it.

I slam my pillow over my face and groan, accidentally sucking in one of my wild curls and coughing. She’s too lovesick and loud for seven in the morning. I need my Red Bull stat.

Wesley and I were out
way
past curfew. I’m not as strict as Reagan about it, but then again, I’ve never been caught by our RA, Bitchy Brenda, and she and Talon aren’t as sneaky as I am. And Wesley has his own apartment, so that’s a plus. He told me to crash there, but hello, weird! No way in a million years will I ever spend the night alone with Wesley. Aaaawkwaaard.

But we have a plan! And it’s all going to be set in motion today … as soon as I get my sleepy head on straight.

Red Bull … where are you?

The pillow gets yanked from my face, and Reagan’s bright green eyes take its place.

“We could be heroes, forever and ever!”

I grunt out a tune similar to the song she’s singing in my ear, but I’m so groggy, not to mention completely tone-deaf, that it sounds like a frog croaking its last croak.

“Reagan’s insane, for being up this early!”

She lets out an excited laugh and bounces me on the bed. “Guess what, guess what!”

Red Bull … I need Red Bull!

“Talon called me this morning and he said Wes is taking him somewhere today. Isn’t their bromance adorable? So that means I get all day with you. Girls’ day!”

I rub the sleepiness from my eyes. “Wow, that was fast.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Huh?”

Oh, tired Kayla, learn how to keep your mouth shut
. I shake my head and sit up. “Nothing.” I yawn. “So, I take it you already have an itinerary?” One thing I love about my girl is she’s totally organized, like moi. It’s also why I’m okay rooming with her. I can’t even
imagine what I’d do if I was put with a slob. Probably tear every single blond curl from my head.

Reagan rolls off my bed and picks up her phone. “Breakfast, chick flick, lunch, salon, shopping, then …” Her eyes get real evil, and I automatically shake my head.

“No. We’re not going to Phantom’s. No. No. No.”

She pushes her bottom lip out. “Pwease? It’s open mic night!”

“Wesley won’t even be there.”

“
You
can sing with me.”

Hell no. “I’ll embarrass myself.”

“And that’s different from when?” The pillow she grabbed off my face flies across the room. I’m too tired to catch or dodge it, so I let it hit me and fall to my lap. “I’m going to call Julia and Grace, see if they want to meet up with us.”

I’m not getting out of going to the club. She knows it, and I do too. Wesley really did set me up nicely here. I mean, we agreed to dig up as much dirt as we could, and now I have all day to do so. And seeing her at a club tonight flirting in her Reagan way will help. But I despise clubbing. I have no rhythm, and I can’t flirt
at all
. Besides, there’s never really any cute guys there. At least not like Talon.

I push out a sigh. “Fine. But you have to stick to me like glue.”

She crosses her heart. “Promise. I have a boyfriend, remember? I’ll be your wingman.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“What do you think? Purple or blue?”

Honestly, neither, but Reagan has a thing for putting colored highlights in her gorgeous red-brown hair.

I eye the two pieces of sample hair she has up against her head and rub my lips together. “Um … purple.”

She tosses the blue strands on the table behind her salon chair. “Yeah, I think so too.”

“It’s not like you won’t be back here in a month to change it,” I joke. But I can’t really give her too much crap because I love getting my hair done as much as she does. It’s probably the one time a month it actually looks sexy wild.

Her tongue pokes out and she grabs her phone from her pocket. A smile jumps onto her lips and she starts clacking away.

“Hey!” I kick her lightly in the shin. “Girls’ day. No texting Talon.”

Her already naturally rosy cheeks darken in a blush. “It’s not Talon.”

Who else can make her smile like that? I widen my eyes and stick my head toward her, urging her to spill.

“It’s just Wes.” She tucks the phone back in her pocket. “But you’re right. No boys.”

Holy crap, did I hear that right?

“What did he want?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just my stupid one joke a day.”

Huh? “One joke a day?”

“Yeah. He’ll send me a joke a day because, well, you know Wes. He’s goofy like that. It’s stupid, but it always cheers me up even when I don’t need it.”

Props to Wesley. Wow.

“How long has he been doing that?”

She shrugs, spinning around in the salon chair. “I don’t know. Like a few months.”

“Does Talon know?”

“Of course.” She shoots me a glare, but there’s still a small smile on her lips. “What’s with all the questions?”

I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. “Sorry. Just thought I knew everything about you already.” I laugh, and she does too. But really, what is my problem? This is a good thing. He’s wiggling his way in already. And the way she smiled … hell yes! This will be easier than I thought.

Still, I can’t help the green monster that wants to burst forth. I do things with Talon, but we don’t have a joke of the day or anything. Except our lame football lessons.

I
have
to find a way to connect with him too. And Wesley is my key to it, if he digs up enough dirt today. Which reminds me of what
I’m
supposed to be doing. I’m blaming lack of sleep for making it so hard to focus.

“Do you like him or something?” Reagan asks, her eyes growing wide and excited.

“Who?”

“Wes.”

Oh hell no. “Are you kidding? That’s not even funny.”

She laughs. “You sure? He is cute. Got that blondish hair and that adorable little dimple on his chin. He’s hilarious, and you two spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s because you and Talon totally ditch us!” Yeah, I could spend time with some of my other friends, but I can’t whine and mope with anyone besides Wesley because they’d all call me a bitch for pining over Talon. That and some of the big mouths—cough, cough, Grace—would go straight to Reagan and spill. So I’m totally keeping this between me and him.

And if I didn’t know any better, it sounds like she’s into Wesley a lot more than I thought. My heart thump-thump-thumps harder the longer she talks about him.

Do I even need to give Wesley pointers? He seems to be doing fine on his own.

“Well, we need alone time.” She grins, and her cheeks darken another shade. A euphoric rush of breath escapes her mouth. “We’re almost at our anniversary. I think I’m going to surprise him.”

“With what?” I try to say as casually as possible. But I’m trying to find a way to bring the conversation back to Wesley before I get sucked into a Talon-is-so-perfect-and-he’s-mine speech. They don’t happen often, thank goodness, but when they do, it’s like she’s waving a flag that says,
Look at me with the sexiest man alive while you have nothing!
Not that she means to, but it still feels like that.

“With me, silly. Can we hit Victoria’s Secret while we shop?”

I force myself not to whine or cry. Reagan hasn’t told me much about her sex life, which is super weird because she’s so vocal about anything and everything uncomfortable like that. I assume they’ve done it, but I refuse to ask. This is the huge red blinking light that says they are sleeping together. No doubt about it.

I give her a semi-smile and go back to looking at the magazine of hairstyles in my hand. I need sexy Kayla hair stat.

“Um, hello!” She kicks me this time. “I just dropped a huge bomb there and that’s all you give me?”

“What?”

Her voice lowers as she leans toward me. “I tell you I’m going to have sex for the first time, and you just smile? No reaction at all? I’m hurt.”

I’m blinking so fast and my jaw is somewhere on the floor. She gives me her giddy grin.

“There’s the reaction I wanted!”

“I’m sorry,” I say in a rushed breath. “I just assumed … I mean I thought you’d already …”

“You thought I lost my virginity and didn’t tell my best friend?” Her hand goes over her open mouth in mock shock. “You know I’ll be giving you
all
the details.”

My stomach is all torn up, like shredded paper, and I’m not sure what to feel. It’s part relief because, wow, they haven’t had sex. But it’s also part panic because they are about to, and I’ll have to deal with the aftermath. Not only picturing his lips all over her, but actually hearing where and how and … no. I can’t do it. My eyes are prickling just with the thought.

“When is your anniversary again?”

“Two weeks.”

Looks like we’ll have to speed up our plan a little bit.

“And you want to, you know, you’re ready and all that? You love him?” I have to know if she loves him. Because she’s never said it. Never talked about loving him. It’s the one thing
that will stop me from pulling off the plan Wesley and I came up with. Because I love Reagan, so if she’s in love, I’ll step aside. Wesley said they were in love, but I have to know for sure. Because they don’t act like they’re
in love
. Talon and Reagan act physically attracted to each other but never connected in a deeper way.

Or maybe I don’t see it because I don’t want to. I refuse to see anything else but my best friend with the guy
I’ve
loved for what seems like forever. Before we even officially met, I had my eye on him. Basically being the total loser stalker who was too afraid to tell anyone—including Reagan—how I felt about him.

But maybe I’m meant to leave them alone.

To be alone.

She opens her mouth to answer, but the hairdresser moves into my line of vision, and the question’s dropped, almost as if I never asked it in the first place.