Free Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1) by Amy Reece Page A

I’m only 16 and my mom would never even consider giving me permission to get one, unlike Veronica’s mother.”
    “You’re only 16?” I’m pretty sure I heard him swear under his breath. “So, when do you turn 17?”
    “Next month. I’m one of the unlucky few that has a Christmas birthday. Why? Does it matter? Do you have a rule against hanging out with 16 year-olds?”
    “No, I don’t have a rule against it. I just thought you were older. You seem older.” He drove in silence for a few minutes. “I’m 18, Ally, almost 19. And I’m on probation. Listen, I know we’re not dating or anything, but it still doesn’t look too good. I have to be careful. The next time I’ll be tried as an adult.”
    “Oh,” I said in a small voice. “I don’t want to get you into trouble or anything.”
    “I know.” He sighed and reached over to take my hand. “It’s okay. None of this is your fault. I need to be extra careful because my next probation hearing is coming up in a couple weeks. I’m really hoping this will be my last one and I’ll be done.”
    I gripped his hand tighter. “God, Jack, that would be great. What can I do to help? Can I talk to anyone, tell them how great you are or anything?”
    He gave me one of his wonderful half-smiles. “How about you don’t do anything that would make you seem like you’re having your morals corrupted? Like don’t go getting a tramp stamp like Veronica.”
    Why was he noticing that tramp’s tramp stamp? “Gross. I would never do anything that trashy.” I took my hand out of his and pointedly looked out the side window.
    “So, you think I’m great, huh?” he teased.
    I continued to look out the window and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Yeah, well that was before I knew you were scoping out Veronica’s ass.”
    “Hey,” he defended. “I can’t help noticing when she sits down and her jeans ride down and those stringy underwear are showing along with her tramp stamp. What do you call those things?”
    I chuckled in spite of myself. “You mean thongs?”
    “Yeah, thongs. You never have those showing above your jeans.”
    I turned and punched him on the arm. “I would never wear a thong. And you shouldn’t be looking at my ass, either.” Of course, I was lying and was secretly flattered. And I might have a secret thong or two hidden in my underwear drawer, courtesy of a shopping trip with Tara. But Jack certainly didn’t need to know that.
    “Oww! Jeez. Besides, what you ask is physically impossible. But I will never look at Veronica’s ass again. Pinky swear,” he said as he held out his pinky to me.
    I really couldn’t tell if he was being serious or teasing me some more, but I wrapped my pinky around his. He didn’t let my hand go as we continued to drive to my house.
    Later that night, as I sat on my bed doing homework—which the thief had not stolen, unfortunately—I got a text on my new iPhone from Jack. He had made sure to program his number into it before we even pulled out of the Verizon parking lot and then made me call his phone to make sure it worked.
     
    Jack: Hey just wanted 2 make sure ur OK. Sick or anything?
     
    Ally: I’m fine. That’s an old wives tale that getting cold gives you a cold.
     
    I have a thing about proper grammar and spelling in my text messages. I don’t have a problem with other people using shorthand, as long as I don’t have to look anything up, but my messages will be written with correct spelling and punctuation, thank you very much.
     
    Jack: Yes ma’am
     
    Ally: Thanks for rescuing me today. You seem to be doing that a lot lately.
     
    Jack: My pleasure. Any time. C U 2morrow
     
    As I lay back on my pillow staring at his text messages, I realized I needed to face the truth: I did indeed have a major crush on Jack Ruiz. No more denials. No more self-lies. In the span of about a week and a half we had gone from being two strangers who had a couple classes together to a friendship of sorts.