Romance Is My Day Job Read Online Free Page B

it’s hard not to go dreamy-eyed over his fearlessness, how he hurls himself at bigger men in football. Just recently, for good luck, our stern headmaster asked Sam to rub his bald head in order break their football team’s losing streak—in front of the entire school. This is the power of Sam.
    I’m thrilled he’s paying attention to me. Delirious but preparing myself for the bucket of blood falling from the ceiling like in the movie Carrie . The night has mostly been a disaster . . . except for now.
    Sam twirls me on the dance floor, encouraging me to break free of myself. I like how he feels in my arms. He’s a little sweaty, but that endears him to me even more. Could he be nervous or is it just that he sweats a lot when he moves? He’s holding me as if I were a delicate creature—and then leads me into a fast-and-furious square dance from hell. The more I look at his face, the more I like it. I didn’t notice before just how gorgeous he is with his sparkling eyes, that wide smile. I’m a little breathless.
    Though I can’t move too much in my tight dress, I do my best. Most of all, I have fun and take in this special moment. A real dance with a school legend.
    Any guy who rescues a newly dateless girl at a dance has to be the nicest person ever. He’s that hero who swoops in after a miserable night. I had no idea anything like this could happen to me, that I could be the target of such a person. It dawns on me now how sexy he is, how he might be that romance-novel hero. The key element is the unexpected.
    When the music ends, I make as if to leave, but Sam has other plans and takes my hand. Faun would never argue over such a bold gesture, and I won’t either. He brings me along to chat with his friends, the big stars of the senior class. One of them is the vice president’s nephew. Vice president of the United States, the one who became president later. They are extremely nice to me, as if I’ve been hanging with them for years.
    â€œLet’s take a picture,” Sam says insistently, shepherding me to the photographer and pulling me into the frame with him. While he’s not affectionate with me, he’s attentive in a way that brightens my night. I know that he has another date at the dance and is just being a nice guy. It doesn’t even occur to me to be jealous of the girl he’s with. How could I when this night was deemed a downer? He could have seen my suffering on the dance floor and wanted to make me feel better. Mission accomplished.
    I’m so dazed over Sam’s request that my jaw drops just as the bulb flashes. This is the official picture, the one I should have taken with Kent. For a few minutes, I feel cherished, like someone’s princess, like I had a real date experience.
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    All too soon, the lights come on. Sam folds back into his super-pack and Kent finds me at the end to say good night. I prepare myself for the inevitable kiss-off and because I can smell rejection from far away, I explain to Kent that no-no-no, I don’t have unreal fantasies of our dating since that would upset my boyfriend, Jason from Cape Cod. All is well. I am secretly grateful Kent said yes to me in the first place. I return to my room, let go of the night, and keep one precious memory of the popular boy sweeping me off my feet.
    We all move on from this dance. Kent continues being cute and friendly—but out of my social sphere, and never again masquerading as Devlin. Despite the lack of romance with Kent, I’m grateful that he inspired me to be audacious, really go after what I want. Everyone should ask out their Kent. He might say yes, and if he says no, you’ll get over it.
    Nici and I keep dreaming about the perfect guy, reading our romance novels. My soul mate is someone else—possibly John Taylor, who finally learns of my existence for about thirty seconds when a classmate of mine