Free The Secret Life of a Dream Girl (Creative HeArts) by Tracy Deebs

the back there. A casual arm around the waist is no big deal, even if he is close enough that I can smell his cologne.
    And can I just say, he smells really, really, really good.
    Not that I care, because I don’t. Of course I don’t. Still, it’s all I can do to keep from turning my head into his chest and breathing him in. In a purely platonic way, of course. Because that’s what this is all about—us being friends. And me helping him get Dream Girl. Obviously. “So, where are we going, Crush Boy?”
    He lifts a brow. “Crush Boy?”
    “After the song you sent last night, it seems to fit.”
    He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin. “Dream Girl, Crush Boy. Do you have nicknames for everyone?”
    “Not everyone. Just the people I like.”
    “Oh, yeah?” He stops in front of a black Dodge Challenger with two broad silver racing stripes that start at the front of the car, under the hood, and go up and over the roof and down the trunk. It’s gorgeous and sexy and somehow exactly Keegan, though it’s not at all the kind of car I would have guessed he drove. And not exactly what I would pick to sneak off campus, since NextGen is lame and doesn’t have an open campus for seniors. Then again, maybe being the son of the vice principal really did come with perks, like he said. “What’s your nickname for Finn McCain?” he asks.
    It’s a weird question, and the look on his face is even weirder. For a second I wonder if he knows more about who I am—and how I know Finn—than he’s letting on. But if he doesn’t know, making a big deal of it will only make things seem weirder… Besides, there doesn’t seem to be any harm in answering. “Finn is Trouble.”
    “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
    I’m so distracted by the fact that he’s holding the car door open for me that I almost tell him the truth—that I nicknamed Finn that when we were in Paris a couple of years ago because everywhere we went he caused some kind of ruckus.
    Then, just for a second, I think about telling him. If Keegan and I are becoming friends, he’s got a right to know who I really am. But then I think about Finn, about the paps who follow him and Willa around looking for a story, and know I can’t risk it. I mean, yeah, I think Keegan would mean to keep my secret, but all he has to do is slip up once with Jacen or one of his other friends and I’m screwed.
    It’s that thought that brings me to my senses—no thanks to Keegan’s sexy green eyes—and I say with a shrug, “I don’t know. It just seems to suit him.”
    Keegan mutters something under his breath at that, but I don’t quite catch it. Before I can ask him to repeat himself, he’s closing my door and walking around to the driver’s side of the car.
    “You never did answer my question about where we’re going,” I tell him as he backs smoothly out of the parking space. It’s hard not to notice that the car is all but purring beneath his hands, and for a moment I think about getting myself one of these. But in fire-engine red instead of racer black, as this car seems to cry out for it.
    “That’s because it’s a surprise.”
    “A surprise? I thought we were just going to grab a taco at Torchy’s or something.”
    He grins at me. “I think we can do a little better than that, don’t you? After all, plotting true love requires some secrecy.” He hits the gas then, and we go flying down the road. We make a couple of sharp turns, but lights and traffic are with us and we get to our destination—a parking lot at the end of a long, kind of scruffy-looking road—in only a few minutes.
    “What is this place?” I ask as we climb out of the car. Directly in front of me is a huge—like forty-foot-tall huge—statue of an aluminum man looking up at the sky.
    “Laguna Gloria.” He reaches into the backseat and pulls out the bag he was carrying earlier.
    “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
    “Sorry. I totally forgot that you’re new to Austin. It’s