True Love and Magic Tricks

Becca Ann

Tessa Marie

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Becca Ann and
Tessa Marie

Sale of the electronic edition of
this book is wholly unauthorized. Except for use in review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, by
any means, is forbidden without written permission from the
author/publisher.

Cookie Publishing

This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the
right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever.

Cover photo courtesy of Prochkailo
via Shutterstock

First Edition: July 2014

Becca Ann’s dedication:

To those who feel friendless. This book has
now claimed you as its “Bestie.”

Tessa Marie’s dedication:

To those who never felt good enough. You
are.

Chapter 1

These gym shorts come with built in
butt floss. Seriously, every time I move an inch, I get an instant
wedgie and have to wiggle the material out.

“
Oh these things!” I growl
to the heavens, and Cindy Lawston, who’s stretching next to me,
laughs as I yank the shorts down.

“
You should’ve ordered the
bigger size,” she says, her long tan legs poking out of her own
wedgie-inducing gym uniform.

I roll my eyes and rip the hair tie
from my left pigtail. “I should’ve ordered a boy’s one.” My eyes
drift over to all the guys lined up on the track. Today’s a “work
out however the heck you want” day, so most of the girls lounge on
the grass only pretending to do something when Coach Harris looks
over. The guys like to show off how fast their legs can go, or do
push-ups, or make complete idiots of themselves. These kinds of
days are my favorite. It’s unbelievably entertaining.

Cindy stands upright and stretches her
arms to the sun, sticking her jiggly C-cups out toward the guys
warming up before their run. I think Sean Dixon’s tongue is about
to touch the asphalt.

I smack her across the boob, and she
automatically curls in.

“
Stop torturing them.” I
laugh, bending over to touch my right toe. My shorts creep up my
butt again. Gar!

The boys start running past, and I get
wolf-whistled at as I stretch to my other foot. Just for them, I
straighten and pick my wedgie with grand bravado.

A high-pitched laugh echoes across the
track, and I spot Lexie Boggs with Ryan Parker. Looks like he’s
dumped his entire water bottle over her head. Ryan takes off down
the track, Lexie right on his heels screaming
obscenities.

Lexie is probably the only
girl who doesn’t hang out with… well, the girls. But she’s not a
total flirt. I mean, she bats her eyes at Sean Dixon every twenty
seconds, but the guy is hot, so I don’t blame her. Not
my
type. My type is
currently picking up the water bottle Ryan dropped and examining
it.

Nate Hatfield’s brow furrows, and his
jaw moves up and down like he’s clucking his tongue. He scratches
his dark hair that looks soft as a feather and flicks the cap off
the bottle. To anyone else, that water bottle would be trash, but
to him… I know he’s thinking of some brilliant way to use it for an
illusion.

My cheeks blossom with warmth when his
eyes flick up and catch me staring. Oiy… how many times is this?
Eight million? I force a big smile and wave, then I turn back to my
final stretch before I start cartwheeling the crap out of this
turf.

“
You want to do a lap?”
Cindy asks, and I shake my head, pigtails swinging off my
shoulders. She shrugs and starts toward the track, nearly running
into Ryan as he turns around and throws a charging Lexie over his
shoulder. Seriously, those two… I can never tell if they’re dating,
or if they’re just friends, or if they’re head-over-heels in
love.

I’m one of four girls left on the
small piece of grass we’ve claimed for our tumbling. Mindy Peters
is amazing. She’s already doing a back-flip double twisty something
or other. Kiki Oliver does a handspring, landing pretty solidly for
it being grass. Me? I can rock a handstand.

I’d run with the guys, but it’s hard
enough being around Nate in gym. Physical activity makes me sweat
so much I can wring the armpits of my gym shirt and fill a jug. Or
two.

I turn around, stuffing my stomach
butterflies into a jar. Better keep those suckers under
control.

The grass is a little wet because I
got stuck in first period gym. I do a quick cartwheel, but with my
shorts riding up my butt and not enough stretches, I slip on the
landing and fall straight to my rear. Kiki lets out a high-pitched
laugh and rubs it in by doing a double-backhand spring. Show
off.

I fold myself in half and growl into
my knees. The stretch in my hamstring feels good, so I press
farther down till my face is grazing the grass and my fingers latch
to my toes. Ah, there we go. Releasing my feet, I lie flat on my
back, placing my hands by my ears, and do a quick bridge. My shirt
is pulling up at my bellybutton, and if I hold it much longer I’ll
give the guys a great show. My sports bra isn’t extremely
effective.

Once I’m back on my feet, I shake my
arms and legs loose, loving the feel of after-stretched limbs. I’m
going to kick this cartwheel’s booty.

I take in a long breath, hold it, and
then fling my body into the air.

Thwack!

“
Aiy!” Nate cries as I
tumble to the ground, foot throbbing. When my world turns
right-side-up, his hand flies over his nose, eyes watering to the
brim.

“
Omigosh, omigosh,
omigosh,” I sputter, crawling over to him. I yank on his gym
shorts, urging him to a crouch. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Lemme
see—”

“
Immmokay,” he muffles
through his fingers. I tap my hand over his, tingles shooting
through my skin as we make contact. He quirks a semi-smile when I
coax his hand from his face. No blood. Thank heavens.

“
I’m so sorry,” I say
again, totally breathless. “I was in the zone, and I didn’t see
you, and normally I’m really observant, but I fell on my butt and I
wanted to prove to all those tumbler girls I could do a simple
cartwheel, but I guess that didn’t work and I ended up…oh my gosh,
like seriously, I’m sorry. I should be restricted from doing any
physical activity ever ever ever.”

Nate’s gorgeous face blooms red, and
he offers a shaking hand out to me. “No, I-I shoulda announced
myself or something. It’s okay. Really.”

He helps me to my feet, and tiny pops
crackle through my palm making my stretched limbs
wobble.

“
Glad I didn’t break your
face.” I laugh. Oh my freaking heavens, I sound like a
hyena.

Nate’s lip turns up at the corner. I
love how it makes these teensy crinkles by his crystal eyes. My
mouth is hanging open. Whoops!

“
Yeah, me too.” His eyes
latch with mine for the most amazing half a second of my life then
he’s suddenly really interested in the grass. “So, uh… I noticed
you can touch your toes.”

What the what? “You were watching me
stretch?”

He nods. “You’re really
flexible.”

“
Thanks.” Wait… was that a
compliment?

His eyes keep flicking up to mine then
back to the grass like he’s not sure which one he’s talking to.
It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t stop the smile from
stretching across my lips.

“
I know this is gonna sound
weird,” he says, “but you know the talent show coming
up?”

“
Sure.” Everyone knows
about the junior talent show. Freshmen get the play. Sophomores get
the Silver Wolf Olympics (I totally won the silver in Jell-O
wrestling last year.) Seniors get the ski trip. And juniors have
the talent show.

“
Well, uh, I made the last
cut.”

“
Awesome,” I say, and
totally mean it. I’ve been not-so-discreetly admiring Nate’s
illusions since I first caught sightof him freshman
year.

“
Thing is… there’s a couple
tricks I want to do, and I need an assistant.” His voice starts
shaking. “A-and she needs to be… flexible.”

My feet bounce before I can stop them.
I nearly jump on him as I squeal, “Of course! I’d love to help out.
Anything you want.” Oh… maybe one step too far.

But he smiles and says, “Great,” like
it really is great, and then I curse the gym coach for blowing the
whistle. Time to rack in.

“
Um, I’ll catch you later?”
he asks. “Maybe I can get your number. You know, for practices and
stuff.”

“
Yeah,
definitely.”

“
Awesome.” He turns toward
the school, the wind blowing his short black hair.
“Thanks.”

“
It’s no prob—”

“
Nate, help me out, man!”
Ryan shouts from across the field. Lexie has one of his shoes and
starts running toward the girls’ locker room. A giggle slips past
my lips, and Nate shoots me an apologetic glance before he jogs off
after Lexie. I watch his butt the whole way.

***

My locker is in the worst place in
this school—the one right by the exit. It’s nowhere near any
classes, and I have to book it everywhere I go or carry every book
I own.

So I don’t understand why someone
would travel all the way to my locker—every day—just to slip notes
in the top slat.

I bite back my smile as I open the
crumpled blue notepaper.

Caela Sculptoris, the
sculptor’s chisel. It was the closest constellation to the name
“Kaylee” I could find. The brightest star in it is called Alpha
Caeli. Seems fitting, I think.

A tiny sigh flits through my lips, and
I lean back against my locker. How many months does this make?
Four? Five? I don’t know, but whoever this guy is, he sure is
dedicated. And shy. Because after five months of notes in my
locker, I’d think he’d have the guts to actually talk to
me.

Marcus Clegg turns the corner, and he
shakes his head when he spots me with my blue paper.