Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

“Is that Knox?” Hope nods toward my phone when she walks over to the beam where I’m sitting, taking a break and catching up with my boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Knox is my boyfriend. Weird. I haven’t tried out the word yet, but I like it.

It’s been two weeks since he told me he loved me and then had to leave for New Mexico. Two weeks of daily phone calls, hundreds of texts, and missing him like crazy.

I hold out the phone for Hope to see Knox.

“Hi!” She gives him a huge smile and waves. “When are you coming back? Avery is all mopey without you.”

“I am not,” I say a little too defensively. Fine. I was at first. It’s weird not having him around all the time. There are so many things that happen every day that I want to share with him and at first, I felt weird about spamming him with messages about mundane topics I was sure he could care less about. But when I told Knox that, he scoffed. “I want to know it all, princess,” he said.

And so our epic text conversations began. Does he need to know what I ate for lunch today or vice versa? No, but somehow sharing little bits of our days makes the distance feel smaller.

“I’m hoping I can come home this weekend or next,” he tells her. “How was your meet last weekend?”

She takes my phone and gives him the rundown, leaving no details out. I smile as I listen to them. I’m pretty sure she misses him almost as much as I do.

When there’s a pause in the conversation, I motion for my phone back.

“Wait,” she says to me and then to Knox, “I need your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

I lean over to see him on the screen. He called from the gym where he trains and he’s sitting on the floor, still shirtless and sweaty.

“This boy I like told me he had a crush on someone but couldn’t tell me who. My friend Janet says that means it’s me, but I’m not sure. I went through our class roster guessing and he said no to everyone.”

“O-kay,” Knox says the word slowly. “What do you need my advice on?”

“Does he like me?” she asks, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “And how do I get him to tell me?”

Knox’s brows lift and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but no words come out. He rubs the back of his neck. He’s so out of his depth right now it’s hilarious.

I jump in to save him. “When you went through everyone in your class, did you ask him if he liked you?”

Her face pales. “No way. I’d die of embarrassment if he laughed or something.”

Fair. First crushes are tricky and so are first rejections.

“You go to Valley Middle School, right?” Knox asks.

“Yeah. Why?” Hope’s mouth purses as she studies him.

“If he laughs, I’ll have to pay him a visit the next time I’m in town.”

I press my lips together to fight a laugh. Do I think he’s kidding? Absolutely not.

“Knooooox.” She groans.

“Okay.” He gets a contemplative look and then nods. “Yeah, I think your friend Janet is probably right and that he’s trying to tell you he likes you without actually saying it. He’s being evasive for the same reason you haven’t told him how you feel. You can either wait him out or ask him.”

Her smile falls, but she nods.

“If you ask him, then at least you’ll know. You don’t want to waste time on some boy who doesn’t realize how awesome you are.”

“Yeah,” she says solemnly.

“If he doesn’t like you, he’s an idiot,” Knox tells her. “You’re the coolest kid I know.”

Her full smile returns. “You’re right. I’m amazing. Thanks, Knox!”

With that, Hope hands me the phone back and takes off to warm up.

Laughing, I bring the phone back out in front of myself so I’m in the frame. “I think you just made her day.”

My boyfriend lets out a breath that puffs out his cheeks. “Growing up with brothers did not prepare me for girl talk.”

“You did good.”

His shoulders slump and he shakes his head. “I really hope I don’t have to make an emergency trip back to tell off a middle schooler.”

“If anything, it better be an emergency trip so I can kiss the crap out of you.”

“Not kissing you definitely feels like an emergency,” he says with a smirk.

On Friday after class, I get back to the dorm and have a note in my mailbox that I have a package being held at the front desk.

The girl working lights up when she sees me. Standing, she grabs the big vase of pink roses on a desk behind her and holds them out to me.

“Somebody is awfully smitten with you. This is the third time this week,” she says.

It’s actually the fourth, but someone else was working on Tuesday afternoon.

“Thank you.” I take them from her and bring the flowers closer to sniff them.

“This came for you too.”

I shift the heavy vase to accept the bubble mailer. “Thank you.”

I call Knox as soon as I get to my room and can set everything down. I’ve run out of space on my desk, so I’ve had to start placing the flower arrangements on the floor. It’s like a very pretty obstacle course in here. It turns out, Knox doesn’t know how to do anything without doing it all out.

He was so worried about being a good boyfriend and not being there for me while we’re apart, but he’s the most present person even from another state. I know these gifts are his way of making sure I know he’s thinking about me.

Some days are harder than others, but most of the time I just feel incredibly lucky that we both get to do the thing we love.

“Hey,” he answers, sounding out of breath.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I also have a suspicious looking package in my hand,” I say as I stare down at the bubble mailer from a New Mexico address.

“Did you open it?”

“Not yet. I just walked in.” Tearing it open feels like Christmas morning. The only other person I ever get mail from is my mom. I also have this weird vision of Knox standing in line at the post office like a regular human. Who would have thought?

Reaching inside, I pull out a folded hot pink T-shirt. When I hold it up in front of me, I smile at the Neon Punch name and logo in black on the front. On the back it has his number, 18, and Holland. My insides go squishy, and I hug it to my chest.

“I love it. Thank you.” I’m already peeling off my shirt to put this one on instead. It smells faintly like him.

“You’re welcome.”

And then it hits me, “Oh my gosh, their color is pink?”

“Neon pink.”

I burst into laughter.

He makes a noise that’s a mixture of a scoff and a groan. “And black.”

I’m laughing so much it’s hard to talk. “You’re going to have to wear pink? This is too good.”

His own quiet chuckles join in a second later. “At least now it’ll make me think of you.”