Believe in Me (Jett #1) by Amy Sparling

that I call her Bayleigh since Becca goes by her first name (and apparently calling her Mrs. makes her feel old) makes us lunch and we sit around and eat it just like we had for breakfast the other day.
    Only the men aren’t here this time. They’re already working at the track next door. Jett complains a million times about how he doesn’t want to work the little kid lock-in tonight because, according to him, kids are sticky and whiney and they’re so slow on a dirt bike that it makes the whole thing boring.
    I’m really surprised that I’m not in more trouble. My mom is pretty lax about things, hell she’d probably love it if I decided to move in with a guy so I’d be out of her hair, but I’d expected Jett’s parents to be more uptight about the whole thing. Since everything else in his life is like one perfect American family movie, I guess I thought he’d be grounded and I’d be escorted off the property like an embarrassing incident they’d rather sweep under the rug.
    I guess people can surprise you when you’re not expecting it.
    “I gotta get to work in about ten minutes,” Jett says, taking my empty plate and carrying it over to the dishwasher. Becca and Bayleigh have moved into the breakfast nook and they’re both pouring over some magazine that features Becca’s artwork. They’ve gone just far enough away to give us some time to talk, but close enough that we know they’re still watching.
    “Let me take your stuff over to Becca’s for you,” Jett says, flashing me this smile that makes my insides tighten up and twist around, like there’s a little monster in there trying to fight his way out.
    “It’s okay, I can do it.” I head back to his room with Jett on my heels. As I make my way toward his closet, he dives in front of me and slips inside, grabbing my bags. “Ha!” he says triumphantly, holding my suitcase and duffel bag up in the air. “I win.”
    I put my hands on my hips. If the flimsy duffel bag rips open and spills all of my pathetic belongings. I might die of embarrassment. “Give it here.”
    “No, I’m taking it over for you.”
    I sigh and reach for my bag. He holds it up out of my reach, his muscles flexing under the weight of all of my earthly possessions.
    “Don’t be an asshole,” I say, feeling all of those happy thoughts from earlier slip away. I know he’s teasing me, but it’s starting to feel a lot like being in school, where guys do this shit all the time.
    “I’m taking your bags and you’re going to like it,” Jett says. He pushes past me and heads outside, all while I’m following him, but failing to catch up.
    In the guest bedroom at Becca’s house, he drops my bags and then stands, hands on hips as he gazes out at the room. “There. Job well done.”
    “You’re a jerk,” I say, grabbing my suitcase and pulling it away from him. Anger fills me up and I latch onto it, preferring the feel of being pissed off to those earlier feelings that were strangely like having a crush. I will not let myself feel things like that for this guy. He is not my type at all. He’ll only screw me over, or make fun of me to his rich friends, just like every other guy like him. I made a mistake going home with him last night, and I guess I’ll just blame that on being delirious from too much fast food, a sugary milkshake, and a lack of sleep.
    “Hey, what’s wrong?” Jett says, his face falling. He reaches for me and I back up.
    “Just get out. Seriously.”
    “Really?” He looks hurt, but then he replaces the look with a smirk. “Don’t I at least get a thank you or something?”
    “Why the hell would I thank you? You took my stuff without my permission! You carried it over here against my wishes and you lorded your strength over me like you’re superior and I’m just the pathetic girl who has to do what you say. That’s not cool. And I’m definitely not thanking you for it.”
    The hurt on his face is real, and I love the satisfaction I get from