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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Excerpt of 'Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend'

  Copyright ©2014 by Caylie Marcoe

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  First Printing: April 2014

  Cover design by Lisa Hubert

  To Hales

  For rhyming with Cales

  “Trav, why are we here so early?” I complained as we hiked up the dirt hill to the starting line. I held my styrofoam cup tightly in my hands, praying no one would jostle me and make the much needed coffee fall out of my hands. I could not be held responsible for what I would be forced to do to them.

  “I’m not the one who organized this event. Apparently it was someone who despises you,” Travis said with a laugh as he escaped my arm which had come out to smack him and ran up the rest of the hill.

  “This is torture! How are you guys this awake?” I groaned when I reached the top and took in the chipper riders milling about.

  “Riles, not everyone hates mornings like you do. Plus, it’s 9:30. It’s not early.” Travis winked at me over his shoulder and retrieved his bike from the back wall.

  “I hate you,” I replied to his comment with a glare.

  “I’ll believe that when you say it with a little more feeling.” Travis grinned, patting my cheek like a child before hopping on his bike for his practice round.

  Ugh. Why did I ever agree to be his personal assistant after I graduated from college? Not only did I have to wake up at ungodly hours, but I also had to run his errands, field his phone calls, make sure everything ran smoothly at events, and do every other random mundane task he could think of. I wasn’t sure it was worth the lack of sleep to hang out with my best friend on a daily basis.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I love this freaking job.

  Sipping my coffee, I headed to the back wall to stay out of the way and pulled out my phone. Might as well get some work done while I wait for Travis to finish his practice rounds. I scrolled through the few e-mails I had waiting and flagged a few important ones I would need to talk with Travis about. As I finished replying to the last e-mail, my phone vibrated with an incoming text message. I glanced at the screen and saw it was from Travis’ mom, Kathy.

  Mom2: Are you there already?

  Me: Yeah. Your son hates me.

  Mom2: You know him…perfectionist. :) See you soon!

  Sighing, I slid my phone into my back pocket and glanced up to see if Travis was done practicing yet—he wasn’t. Guess I could take this time to find some more coffee and wait for his mom by the back entrance. It’s not like he’d even notice I was gone.

  Ten minutes later I had a new steaming cup of coffee in my hand and was sitting outside against the building near the back door, waiting on Kathy to arrive. My phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  Trav: Where’d you go?

  Me: Coffee run & waiting for your mom.

  Trav: Well….at least you missed my crash.

  Me: Shut your face!

  Me: Did you hurt yourself?

  Trav: No. It’s just the stupid grooves in one of the hills. Lots of riders are having issues with it.

  Me: Well make sure you figure it out so you don’t crash during finals and really do damage.

  Trav: I have. I think.

  Me: If you hurt yourself, I’m resigning.

  Trav: No you’re not. Stop lying. You love me too much.

  Me: Is love the word you’re using for hate?

  Me: Because if it is, than yes…that’s very true.

  Trav: Woman. You are frustrating.

  Me: Does that mean you’ll fire me?

  Trav: Never.

  Me: Damn.

  “Riley?” A voice asked from above me. Startled, I looked up and saw Kathy staring down at me with an amused expression on her face.

  “Hey Kathy,” I said, standing up. “One second.” I turned back to my phone.

  Me: Your mom is here. See you in a few.

  “So, how long were you standing there?” I asked as I followed her into the arena.

  “Not long. Figured I’d let you finish your conversation with my son.” She chuckled. “So, anything interesting happen before I got here?”

  “Sure, if you’d call Travis crashing interesting.”

  Kathy stopped and turned to face me. “He didn’t hurt himself, did he?”

  “No.” I laughed. I’d had the same reaction. “He says he’s fine.”

  “Let’s just hope he stays safe during the finals. Did he figure out what went wrong?” she asked when we approached the starting hill and began the climb to the top.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment—it’s funny how our thoughts worked the same way.

  “He did. He said it was the grooves. I’m sure he and the other guys fixed it.” I huffed as I lagged behind her in the climb.

  “Good. That’s good,” she said, preoccupied with an incoming message on her phone.

  “Hey, it’s about time you showed up. The finals are about to start.” Travis appeared out of nowhere, startling me. I jumped and watched helplessly as my cup of coffee fell to the ground.

  “No!” I cried staring sadly down at the puddle absorbing into the dirt.

  Kathy turned when she heard the commotion and looked between Travis and me, then glanced at the ground. She just shook her head, patted her son on the back and walked back down the hill to secure her spot on the sidelines.

  I turned to Travis with a glare and smacked him in the stomach as hard as I could.

  “Hey. Whoa,” Travis said, backing up while rubbing his stomach. “I didn’t do anything Riles. You dropped it all by yourself.”

  “I just…I don’t even…” I couldn’t even think a clear thought. I needed the coffee which was now turning into mud. I glanced back up at him. He was standing at a safe distance with his hands in his fron
t pockets and just shrugged at me.

  “Ugh. Get over here,” I yelled, anxious to get our ritual over with. Usually if I could, I would stay at the top of the start hill and watch from the back as Travis did his run. Today was one of the days I wasn’t allowed to stay up here. I’d be watching from the sidelines with his mom, so we needed to complete our ritual early.

  Travis stepped close to me and pulled me into a hug.

  I hugged him tightly and whispered, “Be calm. Be cool. Be safe.” This had been our ritual before each of his events since we were 18 and he was just coming back from a broken leg. I’d said those six words to him and he grinned and nodded at me before having the run of his life. Since then, it just become second nature to say it before his run. Not that it ever stopped him from getting injured or anything—the boy was accident prone— but it was our thing. One of the many quirks of our fifteen-year friendship.

  Travis pulled back from the hug, grinned at me and nodded. “Always, Doll,” he said, stepping away from me to get ready for his run.

  I turned and headed back down the hill to find his mom—or maybe find some more caffeine. Seriously, how did people function this early?

  Kathy was still typing away on her phone when I found her on the sideline. She glanced up as I came up next to her. “You didn’t kill him did you? I need to know if I have to cancel his events.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. He should have gotten worse than what I gave him.” I yawned. The first round of the finals was just about to start so I was stuck where I was for the next three hours.

  There goes my caffeine fix.

  For the next hour I sat against the fence and watched rider after rider complete their run. Finally it was Travis’ turn and I looked up at the start line, zeroing in on him. I placed my hands over my eyes, peeking through my fingers. I’ve never been able to watch his full run before, but I would always sneak glances. As much as I didn’t want to know, I had to know how he did. For one, he’d ask me a hundred questions later and want me to help dissect the whole thing, and, for two, I just couldn’t not watch.

  I heard the rumble of the crowd as Travis was announced. Then the buzzer went off and I saw him roll down the hill into the first jump. I closed my fingers unable to watch his first trick, but after the crowd erupted in cheers, I opened my fingers and watched as he landed a backflip.

  He makes it look so easy.

  Still peering through my fingers, I watched as he flew up the next hill with a slight wobble. He launched into an awkward 360 tailwhip and I stared unblinking while he bailed last minute. My stomach dropped when he pushed his bike away from his body and fell violently on the dirt. He lay unmoving for a second, then quickly rolled over and grabbed his ankle.

  My breath rushed out of me, relieved that he was relatively okay. I clambered to my feet while the crowd cheered as Travis stood with the help of another rider and slowly limped to the waiting ambulance.

  “You go with him in the ambulance. I’ll take the car. Text me the hospital name,” Kathy said as we walked towards the waiting ambulance, rambling off the protocol she had come up with years ago.

  “You sure I should do that? I can’t promise I won’t injure him more,” I hissed through my teeth. It was bad enough that Travis gave a couple other riders a fist bump and was laughing with them. But it was the ridiculous grin on his face that pissed me off the most. He just didn’t care about getting injured. “It’ll heal,” he always says.

  Kathy laughed and pulled me into a side hug. “I don’t care what you do—just make sure you yell at him first.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I plan to.”

  As we neared the ambulance Kathy took out her phone and dialed her husband before giving me a smile and heading towards the back parking lot. Before she was out of earshot I heard her say into her phone, “Keith, your son injured himself again. I swear he takes after your dad.”

  Before I could get into the ambulance Travis just hopped into, I was stopped by one of the medics.

  “You can’t go in there. Family only.” She nodded to the ambulance.

  I rolled my eyes, tired of having to go through this every time Travis crashed his bike. “I’m Riley Logan—emergency contact.”

  I waited for her to check the paperwork and confirm that I was indeed the emergency contact. Finally she looked back up at me, “Can you tell me the patient’s name and date of birth?”

  “Travis Grayson, September 18, 1986,” I responded automatically, though I was getting more irritated the longer she kept me out here.

  She glanced down at the paperwork in her hand and nodded. “Okay, you can go see him now.” She stepped aside so I could climb into the back of the ambulance.

  “Hey, Doll,” Travis said as I approached. “I stayed safe.”

  I rolled my eyes, standing at the end of the gurney and out of the way of the medic taking care of Travis. “Yeah, your bike’s current condition really supports that statement.” I heard Mr. Medic chuckle as he injected Travis with some pain medicine.

  “Oh come on, I tucked and rolled after coming off the landing. Seriously Riles, it could have been worse,” Travis argued, adjusting himself on the gurney.

  I snorted. “I’m not sure what could have been worse than seeing you lying there, looking like you were dead.”

  Travis smiled lazily up at me. “I could have really been dead.” I reached out and smacked him upside the head.

  Mr. Medic laughed out loud, and then cleared his throat. “Okay enough of that. He may already have a concussion and I’m pretty sure he has a broken leg. I don’t think he needs any more injuries. Especially from his girlfriend.”

  “We’re not dating,” Travis and I said at the same time.

  Mr. Medic looked between us. “Could have fooled me.”

  Travis patted the seat next to the gurney. “Come on Doll, you know you still love me and you always hold my hand on the trips to the hospital…while yelling at me.”

  “Again, I’m thinking you’re confusing love with hate here.” I glared, but still laughed, taking the seat next to him and holding his outstretched hand. He always became super needy when he was pumped full of pain medicine.

  “Ah, see there it is.” Travis smirked up at me, his eyes already glazing over as the medicine took hold.

  “You know, one day you’re going to have to find someone else to do this. I’m not sure how much more I can take,” I told him, resting my head back against the wall.

  The adrenaline was finally wearing off and he glanced up at me with sleepy eyes. “No one else can put up with my shit. Most girls would be crying in the corner. You’re my strong, caring, stubborn Riles.” He closed his eyes, the pain medicine working its way quickly through his system. “Plus no … can… …your… place…,” Travis muttered as he fell off to sleep.

  I glanced over at Mr. Medic. “What hospital are we heading to?”

  “St. Mary’s,” he said while flipping through Travis’ paperwork.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. I pulled out my phone and quickly typed out a text to Kathy, letting her know the name of the hospital.

  Travis and I had been friends a little over fifteen years now. We met when we were ten and his family moved into the house next to mine. He was an awkwardly tall and gangly ten-year-old. Not that I was much different. I was also awkward, wore glasses which covered most of my face, and was as tomboyish as they came. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with three older brothers.

  The first time I talked to him I had just come back from my grandma’s birthday party, where I’d been forced to wear a dress. I jumped out of the car in hopes of running into the house to quickly change out of the itchy tulle when I saw him on his bike down the street.

  He was popping wheelies and jumping the curb. I had never seen anyone so graceful on a bike. I was entranced. I stood at the curb watching him as my family went into the house. Travis glanced up when he heard our front door slam shut and saw me looking at him. He stared back. He had just the h
int of a smirk on his face, when his front wheel rammed into the curb in front of me. He fell off the bike in slow motion, ramming his knee down on the blacktop before tucking and rolling to his back. He lay there not moving. I walked over to him and kicked his leg.

  “You dead?” I asked in a small voice. Travis still didn’t move. So, I kicked him a little harder in the side.

  “Ugh, woman. Stop kicking me!” Travis still had his eyes closed, but he swatted at my leg.

  “I’m 10. I’m not a woman,” I mumbled.

  Travis smirked. “Fine. Stop kicking me, Doll.”

  “I hate dolls,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

  “But you look like one right now.” He squinted up at me. I rolled my eyes and kicked him one more time. This time because he was annoying me. Travis laughed and started to sit up, wincing a little. I finally glanced down at his leg to see a tear in his jeans and a bunch of blood soaking the denim.

  “You probably shouldn’t look at that,” Travis said to me, trying to stand up.

  I snorted. “I’m not scared of blood.” I told him to stay there while I ran into my house to grab the first aid kit.

  When I got back Travis was sitting on the sidewalk with his leg out in front of him. I plopped down in the grass beside him, and started yanking items out of the first aid kit.

  “This might hurt,” I said, as I held up the bottle of peroxide. He just shrugged his shoulders. So I did what any 10-year-old girl would do to a boy—I dumped what was left of the bottle on his wound. Let’s just say I have never heard anyone scream as loud as he did that day. It’s a wonder why he ever wanted to be my friend after that, but that’s exactly what happened. We bonded over his bloody knee — and have been pretty inseparable since.

  The ambulance came to a stop outside the local hospital and I released Travis’ hand as the medic rolled him into the hospital.

  Travis startled awake and quickly glanced around. “Riley?!” He continued to look around, his eyes out of focus.

  “I’m right here,” I told him, walking up to the bed. “I’m pretty sure you have to get some x-rays done. I’ll be here filling out your paperwork, okay?”

  Travis sighed and sank back down into the bed. He nodded as the nurse wheeled him away.