Is Bridgeport big enough for Kae, Robyn, Alex and Jasmine? They're all beautiful, captivating, and a little bit crazy... but there can be only one It Girl.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
"You suck, Graham," Rakim spat as he threw his body across the squash court in a feeble effort to return the perfectly placed drop shot Aubrey had just unloaded. He crashed into the smudged white wall of the court as the ball dropped harmlessly in front of him.
"How come I just kicked your ass then?" Aubrey let his racquet clatter to the ground and stretched a sweaty hand out to where Rakim was sprawled, panting, on the floor. Rakim took it and stood up with a groan. On the other courts the thwacking sounds of squash balls hitting racquets, walls, and sweaty boys continued, but Aubrey had just beaten Rakim, the second-best player on the team, for the fourth game in the row. It was one of the best feelings in the world when everything about his game seemed to be working for him—when his reflexes were instantaneous, when his shots were all slapped at exactly the right angle, when he could almost tell where the ball was going to land even before his opponent hit it. He was just...on. Maybe it had something to do with the sexy text message he'd gotten from Jhene right before practice?
"Yeah, whatever." Rakim shook Aubrey's hand good-naturedly before wiping his once-white wristband against his glistening forehead. "Just wait until next time." Aubrey laughed and pushed open the court door and started to head toward the water fountain.
"Nice game, sexy." Startled, Aubrey looked up toward the three benches that served as bleachers (there were never that many spectators for squash games) and noticed Jhene sitting on the middle one, wearing a denim miniskirt that looked like she had cut it off herself, black tights, and a scoop-neck black leotard top. The heels of her mid-calf Doc Martens were perched almost delicately on the edge of the bench below her. Her curly hair spilled across her shoulders as she pulled her white earphones out of her silver-studded ears.
Aubrey hadn't realized he was staring at her until Rakim nudged him in the ribs. "Hey." Aubrey started over to her, still a little astonished at the sight of her somewhere as uninteresting as the squash courts. It was almost as if he had conjured her up, since he'd been thinking about her nonstop since their make-out session in her room yesterday. She was just so sexy, and sweet. And funny, and— "What are you doing here?" Aubrey asked, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he was practically dripping with sweat. He swiped his wristband across his face quickly.
"Watching you wipe the floor with that poor kid." Her eyes twinkled amusedly as Aubrey slid toward her on the bleacher. He swelled with pride but was grateful he hadn't noticed Jhene (and her sexy legs) sooner, as it probably would have distracted him. Robyn had come to watch him play in one of the big tournaments once, and Aubrey had been so self-conscious the entire time he'd gotten completely crushed by this kid from Deerfield whom he'd destroyed the last five times they'd played, much to the detriment of his masculine pride. Robyn had tried to cheer him up afterward, telling him it hadn't been so bad, but Aubrey could detect the hint of disappointment in her pretty face—and he could almost hear her control-freak mother chiding, "Fentys do not date losers." Robyn had actually canceled their plans for that night, saying she'd forgotten that it was the season finale of America's Next Top Model. He decided to take it as a good omen that his and Jhene's relationship was starting off on the right foot.
