Free Boy Crazy by Hailey Abbott Page A

conversation. Which had been practically unheard of in the ten-boy summer so far! Cassie probably should have guessed why even before he mentioned West Hollywood, L.A.’s trendy gay neighborhood.
    “I must be missing out if everyone thinks the dive park is the go-to hot boy destination,” she said. “I almost went there today, but opted for eating instead. Obviously a big mistake.”
    “Wet suits,” Ryan said, enunciating each consonant. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Wet suits molded to hot bodies. End of discussion.”
    He walked over to another customer, leaving Cassie laughing to herself.
    The café filled up quickly. The crowds pouring off of the giant cruise ship made a beeline for the shops and restaurants along Crescent Avenue. Cassie saw Trey walk in, and made a huge show of studying her menu when he walked by, as if she hadn’t even noticed him.
    But she could feel him—his nearness. It was like an infuriating prickle on the back of her neck. Why was he on Catalina again? What did he want? Why was he following her around when she was trying to ignore him? Cassie was torn between the part of her that wanted to see his behavior as romantic—and the part of her that grimly repeated Greta’s words over and over, trying to make them sink in. Greta wouldn’t lie. Trey was exactly what she said he was, and the fact that he had kissable-looking lips just made his games more regrettable.
    If only Cassie didn’t have to practically chant it to herself to get it through her apparently thick head.
    The most embarrassing part was that she wanted to turn around and let her eyes drink him in. She wanted to talk to him again and see if she would feel that same spellbinding ease all over again. Or, at the very least, she wanted to go over and prove, once and for all, that thenight that had seemed so perfect had just been about the thrill of the first party of the summer and the fact that Cassie had already been so happy. It hadn’t been about him at all. It didn’t mean there was any particular chemistry between them.
    Ryan came back to her table, and Cassie was grateful for the distraction.
    “I’m going to change it up and order the Southwestern Salad,” she told Ryan. “And please don’t feel you have to skimp on the buttermilk dressing.”
    “That’s the best part!” Ryan agreed. He scribbled on his pad and then leaned close to Cassie again. “And speaking of cute boys…”
    “Yes?” she asked, laughing. “Aren’t we always speaking of cute boys?”
    “We should be,” Ryan murmured.
    “Then please,” Cassie said, gesturing grandly. “Go ahead.”
    “The one at the table behind you is staring at you,” Ryan said. “Has been since he walked in, all smoldering and dark-eyed. Very Chuck Bass, but with a much more summer-friendly wardrobe. I approve.” He paused. “And he paid for your lunch.”
    Cassie stared up at Ryan’s blue eyes, her stomach twisting. She was touched for about thirty seconds. But why would Trey buy her lunch? What game was he playing? Oh, right, she reminded herself. This is his game.
    She knew that Trey was staring—she could feel it. But she knew he couldn’t see her face. So she rolled her eyes so only Ryan could see. Then, she reached out and put a hand on Ryan’s well-sculpted arm and let it roam a little bit upwards in a caress. She also tossed her head the way she’d seen Greta do—in fact, she’d studied the way Greta did it. Toss the head, then gaze adoringly. Cassie did both—and then let her fingers roam even farther, testing out the shape of Ryan’s bicep. Which was, as it happened, maybe the most perfect bicep she’d ever touched.
    Ryan blinked down at her for a moment.
    “You’re silly,” Cassie said, in her flirtiest possible voice. “You’re the only one I ever look at.”
    “Of course I am,” Ryan said smoothly, flashing his dimples. He collected Cassie’s menu in one swoop, then leaned over to take her face in one hand. He pulled her