First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,21

type his name into the search bar.

Connor’s chuckle sends the butterflies soaring.

I read the summary of the first site that shows up.

Connor Ledger of St. Luke’s Academy, NC, named All-American…

I gasp. Audibly. And turn to Connor, my smile unconfined. I lean into him, whisper in his ear, “Congratulations.”

His throat moves with his swallow as he reaches over, takes my phone from me. Under the table, his thumbs fly over the screen. When he’s done, he places the phone back down in front of me.

Notes app open.

Cursor blinking.

Five words:

I did it for you.

Chapter 11

Connor

Trevor wanted me to tell you congratulations for making All-American Ava writes on a notepad, sliding it on the desk between us during class.

I’d gotten to the room before she did and placed my bag on the seat so no one else would take it. By the time she walked in with another note from Miss Turner, it was the only available spot.

I write:

Tell him I said thanks.

Okay.

Then I take the notepad and set it in front of me, glancing up to make sure the teacher isn’t watching. I can’t make any mistakes leading up to playoffs.

I write down:

1.

2.

3.

And turn to Ava. She’s looking at me, eyebrows drawn, and I can’t help but smile. I move in closer to her, our arms touching, and fill in the empty spaces.

1. You’ve been wearing your hair down lately, and I think it’s because you know I like it like that. True or false?

Ava scoffs, circles false.

2. You’ve been coming in late to class after seeing Miss Turner. Is everything okay?

Ava takes the notepad from me and writes on the bottom half of the page:

I’m just going through a lot at the moment, and she’s helping me work through it all. In a good way.

I smile when I read her response, claiming the notepad back. And, just to add extra drama to our silent conversation, I turn my back to her, arm shielding her view, and fill in the last number:

3. I, Ava Diaz, forgive one Connor Ledger for being an ass… for being selfish and stupid in saying he couldn’t be just friends. Just because he’s seen me naked in the past, it doesn’t mean that he only ever wants to see me naked every time we’re around each other. Because friends don’t get naked together. They just don’t. Unless, of course, I, Ava Diaz, want to get naked in front of Connor Ledger. Then Connor Ledger is all for it. And I, Ava Diaz, will never, ever, EVER bring up the fact that Connor Ledger got a half-chub during one of Miss Salas’s long-winded speeches thinking about me naked. True or False?

I slide the notepad over and watch Ava’s eyes move with every line she reads, her smile getting wider, ending on a breathy giggle. She takes the pen from me and crosses out everything after me being an ass, then circles True.

Looking up, Ava’s already watching me, her face only inches from mine. My eyes explore hers, searching for a semblance of hope. “I want you to look at the person sitting next to you,” Miss Salas announces.

Ava and I share a smile.

“Get used to them,” she adds.

And Ava’s breath warms my flesh when she lets out a silent laugh.

“Because that’s going to be the person you work with on your next project.”

“Here we go again,” Ava whispers.

Miss Salas adds, “And you’re going to be spending a lot of time with them.”

Smirking, I break eye contact to write down:

Naked?

Under the table, Ava pushes her leg against mine. I clasp her knee, squeeze once. And keep my hand there.

“Who here has heard of podcasts and YouTube?” Miss Salas asks, and the room fills with a mix of groans and giggles.

I shift my hand higher up Ava’s thigh and squeeze again. “This is all you,” I tell her.

“Yes!” she whispers. “Time to get the boobies out.”

Chapter 12

Ava

“Which ones would you like?” I ask Mom, sitting at the kitchen table with pictures sprawled out in front of us. She wanted to rearrange the photographs on the wall of her room so she could see them clearer from her bed.

“This one,” she says, pointing to one of Trevor and me standing by his car. “And this one.” It’s another one of us—this one when we were younger, standing out by the pool at our old house, Trevor’s dark skin such a contrast against mine. She lifts it up to her nose, inspects it closer. “I took this one.”

“You did,” I say, trying

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