The Art of Being Indifferent (The Twisted Family Tree Series) by Brooke Moss

Author:Brooke Moss [Moss, Brooke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-02-09T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Him.

Posey and I slid into a routine almost instantly, and by the time two weeks had passed, it was like we’d always been together. I walked Posey to her classes, she rewarded my hard work in our tutoring sessions with kisses. She came to one of my swim meets and watched from the top of the bleachers with Jessa and Natalie, I joined her in the courtyard at lunchtime. I did my best to keep the wolves—otherwise known as my ex-girlfriend and her idiot friends—at bay, and she invited me to eat dinner with her family almost every night.

And our chemistry?

Yeah. The chemistry was out of this world. Though all we’d done is kiss, she made me crazy. Like, nuts, flopping around the bed, punching my pillow, cold showers and blue balls crazy.

Posey was beautiful. She looked like a doll, or a fairy tale character or something, with her dark hair and white skin. And her figure, when she actually let it show, was enough to make me cry like a punk. With joy. And frustration. She was shaped like a lingerie model without being in my face about it. The fact that I only caught glimpses of her impressive cleavage when she bent across the table in the library enticed me. Sometimes when she reached up for the glasses to set the table at the Coulters, I saw a sliver of her flat tummy above the curve of her feminine hips and it made me crazy. After being with Maddie, who left nothing to the imagination when she dressed for school everyday and pretty much jammed it in your face if she thought you weren’t noticing it enough, Posey’s modesty was refreshing.

I never, in my entire existence, thought I would feel that way. What red-blooded eighteen-year-old guy wanted modesty in a girl? I guess the clincher for me was that I knew I’d get there with Posey. We’d both been with other people. We knew what we were working towards. We weren’t stupid. And believe me, we wanted each other.

“Baxter, you ready?”

Coach’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts, and back into the present. I was in the staging area with my other teammates, where we stretched and rehydrated between heats. I should have been doing the same. Coach constantly hollered at us to stay limber between races so we didn’t cramp up. But I’d been too busy sneaking glances up at Posey to keep my head in the meet.

“I am,” I called. Twisting a few times at the waist, I then headed to the chairs. We had to wait for our races in the chairs and unfortunately they were set up in two rows right below the front row of the bleachers, where my parents sat. Their seats were practically reserved. Sometimes people clapped for my dad when he walked in, which usually made me want to yack into the pool water.

Today, Dad watched me through narrowed eyes. Though I’d won both of my races I’d already swum in, I’d missed my own best time twice, and my dad knew something was up.

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