Even after a long hot shower, my legs are killing me. Coach had us do thirty minutes of burpees and then an hour and a half of sprints. Soccer players can run, but even we hate an hour and a half of sprints.

I could really use a nap right now, but what I want more than that is to spend some time with Clarissa. I pull into her driveway and rub my sore thighs for a second before getting out.

I’m here, I text her, because she’d asked me to let her know the second I arrive.

When I get up to the door and ring the doorbell, I’m a little surprised at the nervous feeling in my stomach. It’s stupid because I’ve dated plenty of girls. I’ve done this plenty of times. Parents always love me.

The door swings open and an older man stands there, looking at me like he’s not too happy with what he sees.

“Hello,” I say, standing tall. “I’m here to pick up Clarissa.”

He squints at me. “What’s your name?”

“Gavin,” I say. “Gavin Voss, sir.”

“I don’t know you, right?”

“That’s right.”

He nods. “Okay, well nice to meet you.”

He doesn’t hold out his hand to shake mine. He also doesn’t look me in the eyes. I wonder if he’s trying to intimidate me. Clarissa appears behind him. “Grandpa, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

She steps in front of him and takes his shoulders, turning him around. “Thank you. I’ll be home in a little bit.”

“That’s Gavin Voss,” her grandpa says. “I think he likes you. He certainly sounds nervous.”

She steps outside and closes the door behind her. “Sorry about that,” she says sheepishly. “My grandpa is mostly blind. I told you to text me so I could be at the door first!”

“I did text you,” I say, offering my arm to her.

“You didn’t text me fast enough! We could have avoided that awkwardness.”

“I don’t mind it.” I keep my elbow out and she finally looks down, noticing it for the first time.

She chews on her bottom lip as her fingers reach out and tentatively wrap around my elbow. I tug my arm closer to my side and she comes with it.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Are you?” she says.

“I’m always hungry. I thought we could go down to the boardwalk. There’s a diner there that’s amazing.”

“The pie place?” she asks. I’m keenly aware of her strawberry smelling hair and the gloss on her lips that might taste like the same thing.

“Yeah, it’s called The Apple Pie. It’s only been there a few months but the food is amazing.”

“That sounds fun. I’ve heard a lot of people talk about it.”

We get to my truck, and I open the door for her. Only now do I realize what she’s wearing. I’d been so focused on her face that I hadn’t looked down.

She’s wearing tight jeans that are cuffed on the bottom, and black ballerina shoes. I know from experience in homeroom that her ass probably looks amazing in them, but I’m not about to turn her around and find out. At least not on our first date. Her shirt has long sleeves and it falls off her shoulder on one side. The smooth skin there drives me crazy.

“Thank you,” she says, climbing into my truck. I wink at her as I close the door behind her.

I am really good at this dating thing, and I’m going to prove that to her tonight.

At the boardwalk, I find a parking spot next to the Flying Mermaid, which is a surf shop that supplies pretty much all of the clothes I wear all summer.

“I haven’t been to the beach in a while,” Clarissa says as we make our way toward the restaurant. The boardwalk stretches on for a few miles along the Texas coast. There are tons of stores and restaurants along the way, and beyond the wooden railing is the beach for as far as you can see. Since it’s the end of August, there’s still enough summertime left for the surfers to be out enjoying the waves.

“I come here as much as I can,” I say. I want to reach for her hand, but I know it’s too soon for that. “Lately all I do is work and play soccer, so there’s not much time for it.”

“The only thing stopping me is that I don’t have a car,” she says. The breeze blows her hair around and she runs her fingers through it to straighten it out. “I’m one of the only juniors at the school who has no wheels.”

“That’s no fun,” I say, holding open the door to The Apple Pie for her. “Took me three years of working to save up for mine. I actually started mowing lawns when I was fourteen just for the sole purpose of buying my truck.”

“Wow, way to plan ahead. I’m saving my money for college, but the daycare does not pay very much. And it’s only three hours a day, a few times a week.” She makes this face and it’s so cute I want to kiss it off her.

But I have to keep my hands to myself, at least for now. Be a gentleman, Gavin.

“If you ever need a ride and I’m free, I’d be happy to drive you wherever you want to go.”

She stares into her soda. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious,” I say. “That wasn’t some empty offer.”

“Do you make empty offers often?” she asks in this teasing way.

I shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. But only to the jackasses I call friends.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” she says with a playful grin.

We get our food and eat it on the restaurant’s balcony that overlooks the beach. I am terrified that the conversation will lag, so I try to keep talking.

“So what’s your schedule like this year?”

Inwardly, I cringe. That’s about the lamest question you can ask a girl on a first date.

“Let’s see,” she says, counting off on her fingers. “Boring, boring, boring, boring, and boring. The only class I really like is my sixth period sign language class.”

“I took French, but I wish I’d taken sign language,” I say. “Then I could have secret conversations in class.”

“We already can,” she says with a coy smile. “It’s called text messaging. It lets you talk without verbally saying anything. You should look it up.”

“I see how it is,” I say, fixing her with a stare. “You go out with a guy, looking cute as hell, and then you rag on him for not being a genius.”

She stops laughing and her expression turns serious. “So, is this a date?”

“Yes,” I say, wondering if I haven’t made that part clear.

“Like a real date?” she asks, her voice getting a little bit higher.

I nod and bite on a French fry. “I mean, I want it to be a real date. I fully intend on buying your dinner and refusing you if you try to pay for part of it.”

Her cheeks turn a glorious shade of pink. “Okay. I was just wondering.”

“Do you often go out with guys and it’s not a date?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I mean, all signs pointed to this being a date, but I wasn’t sure. So I just wanted to ask and get it out in the open.” She puts her hands on her face. “Am I ruining this?”

“No,” I say, reaching out and pulling her hand down. I let my fingers slide down her arm, down her palm, and across her fingertips. “I’m having a really good time making you nervous.” I grin and she glares at me, her lips pressing together.

“Not very gentlemanly of you, Gavin.”

“I’ll behave,” I say. We talk for a while about every random topic we can think of. School, mostly, and a little about how her friend Livi also doesn’t have a car so they rarely get to hang out after school. When our food is done, I stand up and hold out my hand.

“Want to walk on the beach? That’s a fun date thing to do.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, standing. I hold out my hand closer to hers and she eyes it before sliding her palm into mine. “First time for everything,” she says softly as we walk away.

I stop right in the middle of the sand. “Wait, what?” I hold up our clasped hands. “Is this your first time holding hands on the beach?”

She nods meekly. “Kind of?”

My brows pull together. “What kind of guys have you been dating?”

She shrugs. “First of all, not very many. And secondly, guys who don’t like being seen with me.”

She looks away and I start walking toward the water, keeping her hand grasped in mine. “Now why wouldn’t a guy want to be seen with you? You are totally beautiful and very much rocking those jeans, by the way.”

When she glances up at me, there’s a spark in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Something tells me she doesn’t get complimented much. I make it my personal mission right here and now to tell her how unbelievably cute she I at all times.

“Let’s not talk about … that stuff,” she says after a moment. “It’s just—awkward.”

I gaze at her, trying to figure out what insecurity she’s hiding behind those brown eyes. But I come up empty, because the girl is adorable in every way.

On the sand, the water rushes over our feet and then sweeps back out to sea. “Tell me something about you,” I say.

“Not much more to tell,” she says quickly. “I go to school, and I work at the daycare. I have exactly zero hidden talents.”

“Hidden talents are overrated,” I say. “Do you like working at the daycare?”

She nods. “The kids are so sweet. I’m pretty sure I want to be a kindergarten teacher, but my mom says those kinds of jobs are more stressful than they seem.”

“You’ll never know unless you try it,” I say.

“What about you?” she asks, nudging me with her elbow. “Some kind of rocket scientist? Brain surgeon?”

“Do I look like a rocket scientist?” I ask.

She laughs. “No, but you’re in all those AP classes.”

“So jealous of my mad school skills,” I tease her. “I wish I could take the credit for it, but school stuff just comes easily to me.”

She pokes me in the stomach with her free hand. “I’m not jealous of a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd,” I say, pretending to look offended. “I’m a star soccer player.”

She rolls her eyes. “You soccer guys are on my shit list right now.”

“Why’s that?” If I had taken even two seconds to think before I speak, I would have remembered why. But of course, I didn’t, because I’m caught up in the smell of Clarissa’s shampoo, the quirk of her lips every time I tease her. I’m also kind of checking out her cleavage in a way that’s turning me on but making me feel like a dick about it. It’s not my fault that she’s so captivating that I can’t think clearly.

Her expression darkens. “Because two of your teammates ruined my greenhouse.”

“But it’s going to get rebuilt, though, right?”

She sighs. “I have no idea. Probably not.”

“Why?”

She turns away from me, letting her gaze drift over the ocean. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

She’s told me she loves kids and she liked the greenhouse, but I can’t see why she’d be so damn upset about it. But she clearly doesn’t want me to push the topic, so I don’t.

“I’m sorry someone ruined it,” I say, feeling a tightness in my chest. This lie is so deeply buried in my heart now that even I’m starting to think I didn’t actually do it.

She slows down, digging her toes in the sand. Her hand falls away from mine and suddenly I hate that she seems so far away. I want to be touching her, getting to know her. She folds her arms over her chest, not caring when the wind whips her hair into her eyes.

“Do you know who did it?” she asks softly.

“What do you mean?” I say.

Her head tilts up at me, her eyes filled with sadness. “You’re all a team. Surely the other guys talk with each other. Do you know and you’re just supposed to keep it a secret?”

Guilt claws at my insides. This girl is smart. Part of me wonders if she’s only here tonight as a way to get information out of me. That thought alone rips into my ego and makes my heart ache. I’m really starting to like her. She’s gorgeous, she’s funny, and sweet. She’s the kind of girl who cares so damn much about some dumb greenhouse just because she works there.

That’s the kind of girl who makes a great girlfriend. One who cares about things besides herself. She’s the kind of girl I need in my life. She could be the light when I’m surrounded by all the darkness that makes me want to drink.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t know who did it,” I say, reaching for her hand again. “I’m sorry.”