Lovestruck Read online

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Thank You For Reading

  About the Author

  Also by Rachel Anne Jones

  LOVESTRUCK: KISSES, LIES, AND OATMEAL CREAM PIES

  Copyright © 2022 by Rachel Anne Jones

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  ISBN: 979-8-88653-054-4

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  Fire & Ice Young Adult Books

  An Imprint of Melange Books, LLC

  White Bear Lake, MN 55110

  www.fireandiceya.com

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  Smashwords Edition

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  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

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  Published in the United States of America.

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  Cover Design by Caroline Andrus

  To Douglas, the one who holds my heart

  To Abby and Mayah, my two favorite bakers.

  To Isaac and Isabel and Amy, my dreamers; keep on dreaming.

  To Mom, Dad, and Nathan–Always.

  To the Kapfer-12—Thank you for your inspiration.

  To Connie and Don, thanks for understanding.

  For Jaimie L and her daily wit—never stop.

  For the Quest family—Thanks for the confidence.

  For the gift of creativity, thank you, Lord.

  Forever to Amanda, the Queen of “what if”.

  “love is kind of crazy with a spooky little girl like you…”

  THE ZOMBIES

  ONE

  SOMETIMES MY HEART IS A LANTERN IN THE SKY

  It’s been six long months since my mom’s passing, and I miss her every day. Sometimes when I get lonely, I get out my checklist for my future husband, the kind Meghan Trainor sings about. I doubt I’ll find exactly what I’m hoping for in the chaotic high school hallways which feel more like a zoo; but what is life and love, if not to dream of what might be, which is what I’m doing as I lay here in my bed wide awake at 4:45 a.m., wishing I could go back to sleep. It’s my sixteenth year, the fateful year that was so magical for my mom.

  Mom was a hopeless romantic. She could make a love story out of a milk dud. I can still hear the smile in her voice. “What if there was a boy who loved milk duds, and a girl who held the last box at the movie theater, and so he sat by her, and she shared her milk duds…and they lived happily ever after?” Mom got her happily ever after with my dad. I just wish it had lasted longer.

  Mom was sixteen when she met my dad, the boy she was “destined to marry”. I never tired of hearing their story. Her eyes would light up as she looked over at my dad sitting in his recliner with a small smile on his face as she told of their meet-cute; how he almost knocked her over in the school hallway when they bumped into each other, and how she knew he was “the one” from the moment he picked her books up off the floor.

  Mom loved romantic comedies, and I loved watching them with her. Once a week without fail, mom and I would curl up in our blankets on the couch with bowls of popcorn and ice cream and spend a few hours falling into the land of happily ever after. Then we would move on to the second half, analyzing the movies after they were done. We would talk about the characters and how they emerged and grew in the perfect span of one hundred and twenty-five minutes. If they didn’t meet our romantic standards, we would make up our own endings with little additions to make it a more perfect love story.

  Mom is the reason I started my list of the kind of love I want someday.

  Memories of mom make me wonder if I’ll meet my first love this year. I wonder if I’ll know right away when I meet him, or if our love will develop over time and in-between relationships like when Harry Met Sally.

  I read over my checklist as I lay in bed, not sleeping. A window rises on the opposite wall. I stumble out of bed to look into a pair of very familiar big brown eyes. My bestie, Anna Marie, takes my hand and hauls herself over the ledge. “You should know, bee-yotch, I don’t get up for just anyone at 5:00 a.m. You should feel like totally honored I’m here for your birthday.”

  I frown at her. “Language this early in the morning? The sun’s not even up yet.”

  Anna Marie sets her cup holder and brown bag on my end table. She wipes a dainty hand across her glistening forehead. “I’m too old for this.” She wrenches her cup out of the coffee shop cup holder and takes a sip. “It’s a good thing I’ve had lots of practice climbing in and out of windows. Otherwise, I might have dropped our coffee and donuts, and that would be sacrilege. You know how I feel about wasting a perfectly good donut.”

  I take a sip of my delicious white chocolate mocha, my absolute fave. “Yeah, Anna Marie, I know.” I clutch my future love list in my hand. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

  Anna Marie gives me an are-you-kidding-me-right-now look. “Meridian. It’s your sixteenth birthday! This is the perfect time to send off this moony love list of yours.” She sighs. “I swear, sometimes I think you’re just in love with flowery words written on a piece of paper.” She whips out a folded-up piece of paper from her hoodie pocket. “Either way, I made one too, and you know how much I hate this kind of thing.”

  My heart melts a little. “You made a love wish list for me?”

  She groans. “Sure. Let’s call it that. Shut up about it already.” She slips an arm through mine. “Come on, Meridian, let’s do this thing right. Now, where are the lanterns?”

  I point to the top of my closet. “They’re up there. I didn’t want them to get broken. They’re fragile.”

  Anna Marie stretches and groans as she stands on her tippy toes. “You’re making me work this morning. It’s a good thing we’re best friends.” She hands me my lantern.

  We stand by the window. She smacks my butt! “You’re getting your skinny arse out on that rooftop and we’re doing an epic Instagram-worthy, super-sappy, Snapchat story to kick off your destiny quest for the perfect guy. If you’re going to follow in your mom’s footsteps and find the love of your life, you gotta do it up right.”

  I stare down at my lantern. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

 
Anna Marie pulls me close and looks deep into my eyes. “Meridian, there’s only one way to know if he’s out there.” She stretches an arm out the window and gets all starry-eyed as she gazes at the moon like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. “You must send out your request on a wing and a prayer into the mystical, magical, universe of love, and hope it responds.”

  I bite my knuckle to keep from laughing.

  She stomps her foot and sighs. “Hey, I know I don’t have your mother’s romantic touch, but it’s the best I can do. Let’s go already.” She steps out on my roof in her white ducky pajama pants with her matching yellow hoodie.

  I flatten out my list, tape it to the inside of my lantern, and follow her out the window. I shiver beside Anna Marie in my flannel jammies and fuzzy slippers. I hold my lantern in both hands like it’s a precious crystal vase.

  Anna Marie squeezes my arm. “You can do this, Meridian. It’s time to let your idea of the perfect love and the perfect guy go. There’s no such thing. There are only boys and their crazy hormones and annoying flaws. You just have to decide which ones you’re willing to put up with.” She gives me a wink. “I say go for a pair of broad shoulders that come with a handsome face.”

  I sigh. “You’re wrong, Anna Marie. My perfect guy is out there somewhere, I just know it.”

  Anna Marie coughs a little. “I hope so, Meridian, but life ain’t like the movies. No one rides off into the sunset. There’s no grand gestures. No one says what they’re feeling. Everyone’s too busy playing games.” My bestie picks up her lantern. She throws her arms wide. “Oh, great universe. Hear my plea for someone to love me, preferably someone who looks and kisses like Hardin Scott.”

  I nudge Anna Marie. “Hardin Scott? Really?”

  She giggles and shrugs. “What can I say? I like depressed bad boys and tats.” She turns to me and winks. “Now we get to play with fire! I’m lighting the fuel cell.” She takes the lighter from her pocket and lights the square. She gives her lantern a shove, and it floats up into the early morning sky.

  I look down at my lantern with a big heart drawn on both sides. I pick it up carefully and hold it up in the air one-handed. I take the lighter from Anna Marie’s hand and light my square. Something magical happens as the lantern leaves my hands and rises toward the moon. I watch in awe and wonder as a piece of me becomes a part of the sky. I wonder if my mom is close by. I wonder if she’ll read my words, a continuation of the conversations we used to have. I look up at the moon that fades into the sky as it lightens. “Universe. Accept my plea for the perfect love. I know it’s out there somewhere. Let it find me.”

  I glance over at Anna Marie. So what if she says I need to forget all about my perfect guy because he doesn’t exist, just like my make-believe check-list boyfriend doesn’t exist; I think she’s wrong. The love I want and wish for is out there, and one day I’ll find it.

  I watch the glowing lantern of my perfect love as it joins Anna Marie’s. A shooting star winks at me as it burns out. It’s definitely a sign. This year I’m going to find “the one.”

  I keep my eyes on the sky long after my hopes and dreams float away. I picture my wishes fading into the universe and dream of what I long for:

  A devoted and undying love that includes swamp fires and giant creatures, and is inescapable, like Wesley and Buttercup’s in The Princess Bride

  A Reality Bites love-hate relationship filled with heated stares, dramatic moments, and high emotions like Lelaina and Troy

  A love that is as quirky and crazy as Benny and Joon’s, complete with a top hat and grilled cheese sandwiches

  A Jack and Rose Titanic timeless love that is muse-inspired

  A complicated Million Dollar Baby love with a little fame and a cheering section like Frankie and Maggie’s

  A magical, spell-binding Practical Magic Gary and Sally love that is mysterious and captivating

  A dutiful and committed Pride and Prejudice love that lingers, like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet

  A persistent and intense, true, and magnetic Noah and Allie kind of love that can’t be broken, one that is necessary and inseparable like in The Notebook

  My list is lengthy and specific, but I know there is a guy out there who embodies all these things. I just have to find him.

  Anna Marie gives me a big hug. “Happy birthday, Meridian.” She makes a face at me. “Your list has pret-ty high standards. So, if you don’t find the guy, just know I’m here for you.”

  I hug her hard. “Thanks, Anna Marie, but I think I’ll find him.” I look over at the fat tree branch that grazes my rooftop. “You going down the way you came up, or do you want to use the front door?”

  She grins at me. “I’ll just grab my coffee and donut before I shimmy down that tree branch and head for home. I’ve got a three-hour date with my bed.”

  Anna Marie slips out my window. I watch her exit the tree and lope across the grass. I set my coffee and donut on my dresser and sit on the floor by my windowpane. A single tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away and wait for the sun to rise.

  “I’m sixteen now, Mom. I wish you were here.” My words break the silence along with my heart. I sit a bit longer before I climb back in bed and wish for sleep to steal my sadness.

  TWO

  SOMETIMES IT BE LIKE THAT

  The hair tie stings my wrist as I snap it in an absent-minded rhythm. I sit on a bench with my family, waiting to be seated. Anna Marie, my bestie, has been ghosting me for the last twenty minutes on Snapchat, which stings, because it’s still my birthday, and we always spend my birthday supper together. I know I saw her this morning for our releasing of the lanterns, but she’s supposed to be a part of our family supper too. It’s tradition.

  The restaurant window is full of people walking by; none of which are my ever-tardy cousin, Isaac, and his new wife, Amy. They’ve been on their honeymoon in Jamaica. I hope they got me something cool, like a sweet hat or a traditional island bracelet I can wear on my first day of future-boyfriend hunting that has my anxiety level through the roof.

  While we wait for the rest of our dinner party to show up so we can be seated, my mind thinks about my upcoming search for the perfect guy. I’ve gotten pretty good at stifling my worries during the day, but after midnight, all bets are off. I toss and turn in my bed, fighting insomnia like a weary soldier until I am forced to hunker down in my bathroom with my journal.

  2:00 a.m. is my witching hour. Something strange happens between my brain and my pen, and amazing revelations that can only be borne at 2:00 a.m. are revealed in a jibberish language that generally comes out in rhymes and makes no sense to me, even though I am the author. I choose not to dwell so much on the meaning of the jibberish, as my incessant need to do it. It is the only thing that calms me. Once in a while, I allow my bestie, Anna Marie, to read it, as she insists everything in her life is as dull and mundane as her name because she was named after both of her grandmas, which is the precise reason she must constantly analyze every spoken word of our classmates to death to discover hidden meanings and conspiracies in our everyday lives as well as the reason the social hierarchy in our established system of learning continues to exist, which has forced her to express her frustration in her favorite way; attaching the phrase “and die” to the end of every sentence as much as possible.

  As these random thoughts swirl about in my addled brain, “Meridian, party of four,” blares over the intercom like a public announcement of my pathetic life, one more reminder that our table will probably be the smallest group table on my first Saturday night as an unofficial sophomore, which is kind of like the nights of my freshman year which was a mix of incredible sadness at home and a complete blur in the educational and social department. I spent half of it at home with my mom, and the other half hiding in the library. Even though it was difficult watching the illness take over, I wouldn’t give up those last six months with my mom for anything.

  I’ve been seeing a grief counselor, and it helps. Most days I feel kind o
f normal, but then I’ll smell mom’s perfume, or see something that reminds me of her, and I’m struck with incredible sadness all over again, like someone knocked the air out of me.

  “Meridian, party of four,” blares out again.

  I slug my brother Lewis in the shoulder. “Did you purposefully forget to count Isaac and Amy? We’re a party of six.” I walk up to the podium. “I’m Meridian.”