Boomerang, Part 2 by Noelle August

Author:Noelle August
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062369796
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-06-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Mia

Q: Is honesty always your policy?

I’m going to blame it on a brain fog, because under normal circumstances, I absolutely would not tear away from the soccer field, drive back across town, and find my way into the Boomerang offices.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have zipped home, changed into my comfiest sweats, and flopped onto the sofa while Beth served me a heaping plate of her Poor Girls’ Paella, the exact ingredients of which are kept strictly secret—even from me.

But clearly I’ve snapped some major twig because here I am, slinking along the dimly lit center corridor, on a weird kind of needy girl autopilot that just doesn’t feel like me. Or like anyone who’s not a cartoon character.

Still, I have to know. Who did Ethan choose for his next Boomerang date? Raylene? Why is he being so tightlipped about it all? Why do I care? And how can I get off this ridiculous treadmill of clichés?

I can’t. Not until I know.

A patch of light oozes from beneath the conference room door, turning the bamboo floor a milky white. Heart thudding, I tiptoe past. Someone’s here, working late. Probably doing something more productive and reasonable with their evening. Whoever it is, I hope to hell I don’t run into them. I already feel like an idiot.

Of course, that’s not enough to keep me from slipping into Ethan’s seat, imagining that somehow I can still feel the warmth of his body cradling mine. The oven clock ticks noisily, something I hadn’t noticed before, and this little alcove seems especially shadowy and drafty at dusk.

I shiver as I glance around, listening for breathing or footsteps or the Ghost of Common Sense to come drag me out by the hair. And then I pull out Ethan’s tablet and power it up. His wallpaper is an image of a soccer dude in a white uniform with beads of silver sweat haloing his head, caught mid-kick. Or mid-block. Or mid-something-intense.

I love the image. It’s so Ethan. Beyond the obvious soccer element, it seems like him because it demonstrates someone’s passion, his hunger to succeed.

Scrolling through apps, I tap on the Boomerang icon, which loads the site. Ethan’s account is ready, the password already auto-filled. Which makes me wonder what I would have done otherwise. Gone home without prying maybe? I touch the screen, try to imagine what words make up that row of asterisks, wishing I knew him well enough to even attempt a guess.

I maneuver right to the “Game On” page and see that no, he hasn’t chosen Raylene for dates two or three. This is worse. Date two—Carmen—is petite, deeply tanned, with full glossy lips and the brown limpid eyes of a baby deer. She’s a nursing student, into crafting her own wooden jigsaw puzzles, and her profile is so funny and self-deprecating, I practically want to date her myself.

Date three: total disaster. She’s beautiful, Asian, and a top-seeded tennis player. Every photo of her is fierce, shots of her on the court or hoisting a trophy, except for one where she’s in a micro-dress and thigh-high snakeskin boots.

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