When a Heart Trips Read online

  When a Heart Trips

  Dominique Laura

  Contents

  Some Songs that Inspired the Story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Dominique Laura

  Excerpt of Here I’ll Stay

  When A Heart Trips

  Copyright © 2020 Dominique Laura

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, or by any other means, without written permission from the author. The only time passages may be used is for a teaser, blog post, article, or review, so long as the work isn’t being wrongfully used.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events, and incidents portrayed are solely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, events, or other incidents is coincidental or are used fictitiously.

  Editing & Formatting: Elevated Edits

  Photography: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models: Austin Conn & Courtney Larsen

  Design: Outlined with Love Designs

  For Kimberly, my best friend, my person.

  You know all of the reasons why.

  Love you always.

  Some Songs that Inspired the Story

  “Seventeen” by Alessia Cara

  “Crush” by David Archuleta

  “Seeing Blind” by Niall Horan & Maren Morris

  “Fireproof” by One Direction

  “18” by One Direction

  “What Dreams Are Made Of” by Hilary Duff

  BONUS TRACK, COURTESY OF MY EDITOR + BFF

  “Smooth Operator” by Sade

  One

  “I really want a crush,” I muse out loud, pencil tapping on the edge of my desk while I daydream about someone who may or may not exist.

  “A Crush? Like the soda?” my best friend, Erin, questions from beside me, eyes narrowing in confusion.

  “No, a crush like a person.” My eyes narrow right back at her in response.

  She sighs, shaking her head in slight annoyance. “You want to have a crush is what you’re saying? Then don’t say you want a Crush because my mind immediately jumps to soda.”

  “That’s legit what I said,” I say in defense, brow raising.

  “Fine, so you want a crush. What brought this on?”

  “It sounds lame, but I read about relationships all the time, and I’m starting to wonder what that’s like, ya know? Also, not that this should matter, but we’re seniors, and I’ve never really liked someone. Someone who made me giggle and blush and invaded my dreams. I just want to know what the fuss is; if it’s possible for me to even experience butterflies and goosebumps and that other cliche stuff.”

  “You know what would really help with finding a crush?” Erin asks, smirk in place.

  “What?” The word comes out slowly since I never know what’ll come out of her mouth. She’s Latina and feisty, and filters don’t exist in her world, which works for our friendship because I’m the same way, just a smidge less confident.

  “Kickbacks. Friday night football followed by a kickback would help,” she states matter-of-factly. “I admire your love of books and your ability to read an ungodly amount each weekend, but going out and actively socializing is the best way to meet new people, guys included. That’s how you’ll find someone to crush on, I guarantee it.”

  “I go to kickbacks,” I half-heartedly defend, knowing full well that she has a really good point.

  “Yeah, when I practically drag you, and even then you end up in some corner with your nose buried in your phone while you read on your Kindle app.”

  My eyes widen, and she tsks. “Oh yeah, I pay attention, Devon. You’re not fooling anyone.”

  I groan, only slightly embarrassed at having been caught. “Fine, you do have a point, but it’s not as easy for me as it is for you. I mean, sure, I can socialize with the best of them, but it’s rarely genuine, and it’s not the most fun—it’s uncomfortable and forced.”

  “Maybe it’s not the most fun because you don’t actually try or make any effort,” she tells me bluntly before her eyes turn sympathetic. “You’ve gotta get out of your shell and out of your books. Live in the real world with me.”

  Her words might sound insulting to anyone else, but not to me. She means well, and I trust her. She’s not one for ill intent, despite her brutal honesty and sharp tongue most of the time.

  “Fine. I’ll try it your way this weekend,” I concede, nodding my head with conviction.

  Erin’s eyes light up at my words. “Perfect. Most of the parties and kickbacks are starting this weekend anyway, so it’s the perfect time for you to integrate yourself.”

  “I feel like I’m going to regret this later, aren’t I?” I grumble, mostly to myself.

  “Oh, most definitely, but what’s life without some regrets, am I right?” She gives me a wink, settling back as our homeroom teacher tries to claim everyone’s attention.

  As she starts to talk about a compatibility test we’ll all be taking for the next fifteen minutes, I give Erin a wide-eyed look. She just laughs, shaking her head.

  “Maybe you’ll really get that crush after all. We’ll use this to narrow down the list of potential crush-worthy guys to scope out this weekend.” Her tone is serious, but then her body shakes with barely restrained laughter—at my expense.

  I really should have kept that whole wanting a crush comment to myself, especially with the questions staring back at me across the sheet on my desk.

  I had completely forgotten about this whole compatibility test thing. ASB, our Associated Student Body or student council, had announced it weeks ago, and it’s not even Valentine’s Day. We’re only a couple weeks into the school year, but here we are, taking a test to see who we’re most, well, compatible with. Why? Who honestly knows. They decided it’d be a great way to open up new friendships and love interests for this school year, like some Riverdale storyline or something.

  So here I am, sitting in a classroom answering questions about myself with multiple choice answers that range from simple to a bit over the top while my best friend giggles beside me as she does the same.

  Would you rather take a bath or shower? Shower.

  Do you believe in soul mates? Yes.

  Do you believe in love at first sight? Maybe.

  Are you an early bird or a night owl? Night owl.

  What’s your favorite color? Yellow.

  Would you rather call or text? Call.

  Would you rather go camping or glamping? Glamping.

  Are you an energetic or mellow person? In-between.

  Do you prefer drinking warm or cold water? Warm.

  I’m not sure how any of these arguably ridiculous questions will be helpful in finding one’s perfect matches, but I guess I’ll find out. I glance around the room, pencil twirling in hand while people laugh and whisper about who they think their top matches will be.

  This test apparently incorporates the entire studen
t body, which means that a first-year student’s most compatible person could very well be an upperclassman. That would really fuel gossip. A first-year student with a senior? The horror. Note the sarcasm.

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I fill in my final response and place it face down on my desk as instructed.

  Honestly, this entire thing is a disaster in the making, but people genuinely seem excited about it, so maybe it won’t be all that horrible.

  Sometimes the universe works in your favor, and maybe this is one of those times for me. Well, with any luck. I’m part hopeful because of my current want for someone to crush on and part cynical because there’s a very real possibility that this will end up being a complete train wreck, a train wreck that’ll end with me continuing to experience infatuation and love and all that through the pages of a book—which isn’t the worst thing in the world, it’s actually quite wonderful.

  In short, I’m not entirely sure how to feel about it, and that bothers me a bit because, like, come on, mind and heart, get it together.

  Deep breaths. Pop a mint. Let yourself be excited about this prospect.

  And that’s what I do. I let myself feel excited.

  My body buzzes at the thought of actually socializing with others while out, even if it is a game of sorts to snag some attention and affection. It’s not something I’m great at, but appearances are everything. The friendlier you are, the more people like you. So, that’s how I am. I’m friendly and social-ish at school, but as soon as that final bell rings and we’re let out for the day, I book it home so I can lose myself in one of the many worlds on my shelves.

  I’m happy this way. Time with myself is the best, but lately it feels like there’s something missing. It’s silly to assume a crush will fix that, but who’s to say it won’t?

  Ugh. This whole thing is starting to mess with my head. Sigh.

  At least there’s Erin. She’s the one constant in my life.

  Still, all those love stories I read? For once, I’d love to experience one of my own firsthand.

  I blow out a deep breath. This school year just got a whole lot more interesting, that’s for sure.

  Two

  “Yeah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I voice, eyeing the crowd making its way into the stadium for the game. Anxiety, my dear old friend, is slowly creeping in, and I’d very much like that unwelcome guest to leave.

  It's a Friday night in September, which means football is officially in full swing. The Southview High Warriors are ready to dominate this season—well, according to the many posters adorning the vast space before us. It’s a home game, so of course our school colors of blue and white are on full display. I’m only slightly ashamed to say that I’m also sporting said colors.

  Blue chunky, unflattering headband? Check.

  White tank top and jeans that are both a little too fitted for comfort? Check.

  Oversized jean jacket to help lessen the level of embarrassment begging to settle in? A million checks.

  Erin’s hand gives my arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and her eyes narrow in determination. “No, this was the best idea. I mean, what are the chances that the person you’re most compatible with at this mediocre school of ours, the person listed as your number one match, just so happens to be Braxton Jones, one of the biggest hotshots of our entire class?”

  It’s been a week since we took the compatibility test, and we received the results this morning. The results consisted of a list of ten names, boys and girls, and started with our most compatible match at number one and worked its way through nine other spots and names. In typical fashion, Erin perused the names on her paper and then proceeded to crumple it up and toss it into the nearest trash can.

  She wasn’t pleased with the names on her sheet, so she took an even bigger interest in the ones on mine, which leads us to where we are now.

  “What exactly do you expect me to do, go up to him while he’s playing on the field and announce he’s my number one match?”

  She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Ya know, that’s not such a bad idea.”

  “Erin, be serious, I don’t have enough Altoids to get me through this night if that’s where it’s leading.”

  I take that moment to pop an Altoids into my mouth, chewing aggressively as I shove the small tin back into my pocket and let the minty sensation anchor me.

  She releases a deep breath, eyes training on mine with determination. “Okay, okay, we’ll enjoy the game—as much as we can, anyway—and then we’ll go to this kickback thing, and we’ll initiate our plan then.”

  “What plan is that exactly?” I ask a bit hesitantly.

  “The plan where we make this crush thing happen and you both live happily ever after.”

  “Oh, so we’re still visiting in fantasy land, I see,” I grumble, regretting my admission to her about the crush thing for the umpteenth time since our first conversation about it. Her vested interest is deeper than I thought it’d be. I mean, I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, and I should be grateful for that, but I am about point two seconds away from running away from this entire night.

  The reason I won’t? The reason I’ll stay? Well, there’s a small part of me that wants to see how this ends, to see if this fantasy plan she’s conjured up can become a reality.

  “Well, that was,” I pause, searching for the right word, “something. That was something.”

  “It sure was,” Erin agrees, looking about half as overwhelmed as I feel. “After months of not attending one, I had forgotten how intense these games can get. I feel like I need a shot of something I’ll most definitely regret tomorrow.”

  “Well, we are heading to that kickback, unless you’ve changed your mind and want to head home and Netflix it.”

  My words are hopeful, but I know better than to let that hope linger because Erin has her mind set on this, which means we’re going to see it through to the end—no matter how insane, traumatizing, wonderful, or whatever it may be. And I did vow to myself to make an effort with this. I mean, this is what senior year is all about, right? Chasing crushes and high school dreams.

  “Yeah, nice try,” Erin spouts. “I’m definitely taking advantage of your willingness to participate and put up with my antics.”

  “Please, like I haven’t been doing that since we got paired up in middle school,” I remind her as I turn to look back at her.

  We make our way past the open gate where people are starting to gather to greet the players as they cross the space to head onto the waiting buses.

  “Anyway, this kickback is going to be poppin’ because our team won and everyone is going to want to celebrate,” Erin says like a proud fan, which she probably is—deep down. “No Sour Sallys tonight, and I am honestly excited.”

  “I can tell, you’re practically buzzing.” My comment makes her eyes narrow and an M&M fly toward my head, which I try and fail to catch in my mouth before it hits my chin and falls to the floor.

  I glare, body still half-turned as I stare back at her and wait for her to catch up. Her mouth opens, and I catch a smirk spread across her features at the same time I collide with something that feels an awful lot like a body.

  My eyes widen as I turn, hands raised to brace for further impact, but nothing more happens.

  “Whoa, there. Sorry about that,” a deep voice says from above me. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Post-game high and all that.”

  I blink a couple of times, shock and embarrassment threatening to take root, but at the sound of Erin’s giggling from somewhere behind me, those feelings fade.

  “No, I’m sorry, I definitely wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, clearly,” I apologize, my gaze sliding along the figure in front of me—a figure wrapped in sweat-drenched clothes and a hand gripping onto a helmet and pads. My eyes reach his just as realization strikes, and the wave of embarrassment hits at full force.

  Just my luck.

  Dark eyes stare back into mine
, and I only blink. It’s all I can do as an invisible cat grasps my tongue.

  I’m not a huge talker, but I’m not easily rendered speechless either. I must have bumped into him a lot harder than I realized. Yep, definitely going to have to get that looked at. If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure what that is.

  “You good?” he asks, dark brows drawing together in concern, and then his gaze shifts to something behind me before returning to me. “Friend of yours?”

  I don’t have to turn to know he’s referring to Erin, who I can still hear giggling like some sort of maniac. She’s definitely going to pay for this whole interaction later.

  “Unfortunately,” I manage, finally finding my voice again. “I’d trade her in, but I’m pretty sure the cutoff for that passed forever ago.”

  He chuckles, and it’s warm and inviting, and these random goosebumps that have found themselves spreading along the surface of my arms need to go away.

  I clear my throat. “Anyway, sorry again for running into you. Good game though, really good. You won. Whoo.”

  I cringe hard at my extra awkwardness and slowly start to walk away, but he stops me with a quirk of his lips and another question.

  “So, you watched me on the field, huh?” His eyes are all-knowing, but of what?

  “Oh, yeah, you were really great with tackling and throwing the ball and running and stuff,” I state, sounding just the tiniest bit convincing to myself, but based on the twinkle in his eyes, I know he knows I’m full of it.