Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Beth K. Vogt Page A

the parking lot. Some, like her, were walking home solo or in small groups. Being alone was fine with her. Easier. As Vanessa made her way around a group of kids, her shoulder collided with something—or someone—and she stumbled forward, almost falling to her knees on the sidewalk before a pair of strong hands reached out and steadied her.
    â€œYou okay?”
    The guy’s voice held the hint of a laugh.
    â€œI’m fine.” She pulled away, her gaze colliding with a pair of blue eyes, the laughter adding a bit of sparkle to them. Her Watch where you’re going lodged in her throat.
    â€œSorry about that.” The boy brushed his long blond hair off his forehead, smiling at her again as if sharing a joke. “My sister says I’m a klutz.”
    â€œIt’s okay. No big deal.” She shifted her backpack to her other shoulder. “Well, I gotta go.”
    â€œMe, too.” He motioned to a silver and red motorcycle parked behind him. “Don’t want to show up to work late.”
    Vanessa nodded and moved past him, aware of the half grin on his sunburned face. How tall he was. The sun seemed to up its intensity, and she resisted the urge to hold her hair up off her neck—and the even stronger desire to turn around. To look back. Was he watching her with his intense blue eyes? A minute later, she gave in and glanced over her shoulder. Stumbled again. And sure enough, he sat astride his motorcycle, watching her. He lifted his hand and waved, offering her another glimpse of his grin. With a groan, Vanessa waved back and faced forward again.
    She should have kept walking. Never turned around. He must think she was a bumbling idiot.
    But he did have a cute smile. Worth a second glance.
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    Logan exited the school a few seconds after Vanessa, careful to keep some distance and a few other students between them. After waiting in the school parking lot and watching her walk home for the past week and a half, he was beginning to feel a little bit like a stalker. Usually he sat on his motorcycle while Vanessa walked past him, and then he headed to work mowing lawns. If she looked his way, he waved hello. Some days she ignored him, but he got the feeling she knew he was there, watching her. Today he decided to mix it up a bit—only now he had to hang back and wait while she and Mindy talked on the steps.
    Vanessa Hollister. What were the odds that the new girl in school would have the same last name as he did? And that they’d have the same math and science classes? Not that sitting near her meant anything. She was friendly enough—said hi to everybody, including the teachers, seemed to know a lot of kids’ names already. But after watching her—and hoping no one else noticed—he could almost see a barrier surrounding her marked “This far and no farther.” The way she held her backpack on one shoulder, so that it half shielded one side of her body. The way she’d keep walking even as she said hello to the other kids in school. A nod. A wave. The briefest of smiles—and moving on. And how she volunteered in the office during lunch—avoiding the whole Who do I sit with? dilemma.
    Her elusiveness made him want to get to know Vanessa Hollister better. To figure out how to earn more than a “Hi, Logan,” from her—to move past those two words where she barely even looked in his eyes. But what was he supposed to do? Wait at her locker and ask her if she knew that day’s math assignment?
    Lame.
    So far he’d avoided being late to work despite his new habit. Waiting on his motorcycle for a few minutes didn’t delay him that much. It helped that Vanessa had a routine.
    Walk outside with Mindy. Talk for a few minutes until Mindy headed for the bus. Then head the opposite way, through the parking lot, walking home. By herself. Every single day.
    That was his in.
    All he had to do was wait for her.