The Summer We Fell

  the summer we fell

  amber garza

  Cover: White Rabbit Designs and Creations

  Copyright © 2014 Amber Garza

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  For information: ambergarza.wordpress.com

  Other titles by Amber Garza

  Tripping Me Up

  Winning Me Over

  Finding Me Again

  Head Above Water

  Falling to Pieces

  Star Struck

  Love Struck

  Break Free

  Break Through

  Delaney’s Gift Series:

  Dazzle

  Shatter

  Betray

  To connect with Amber Garza online:

  http://www.ambergarza.com

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Amber-Garza-author

  Or to sign up for the newsletter: http://eepurl.com/sp8Q9

  Table of Contents

  1

  sloane

  2

  cruz

  3

  sloane

  4

  cruz

  5

  sloane

  6

  cruz

  7

  sloane

  8

  cruz

  9

  sloane

  10

  cruz

  11

  sloane

  12

  cruz

  13

  sloane

  14

  cruz

  15

  sloane

  16

  cruz

  17

  sloane

  18

  cruz

  19

  sloane

  20

  cruz

  21

  sloane

  22

  cruz

  23

  sloane

  24

  cruz

  25

  sloane

  26

  cruz

  27

  sloane

  28

  cruz

  29

  sloane

  epilogue

  sloane

  Read on for an excerpt from WINNING ME OVER, available now…

  ONE

  PAIGE

  TWO

  COLT

  Authors Note and Acknowledgments

  To Auntie Boo for your unconditional support, and for making me sound smarter than I am.

  1

  sloane

  “Mom, I’m heading over to Cruz’s,” I call as I push the front door open with my palm.

  “Okay. Don’t stay out too late,” Mom’s voice floats from the kitchen. I hear water running, the clink of dishes.

  “I won’t.” After stepping outside into the warm summer air, the door slams shut behind me. It may be evening, but here in Folsom it stays warm even at night. I hurry across the grass, my flip flops slapping on the ground with each step. By the time I reach the sidewalk I can hear music coming from the garage across the street. Our suburban neighborhood is fairly quiet. We don’t get much traffic since our street ends at a cul-de-sac. In the distance I hear a dog barking, the hum of a lawn mower. But the manic drumbeat drowns it out. Shaking my head, I step onto the asphalt and make my way toward the sound.

  Cruz moved in across the street from my family the summer before kindergarten. I remember watching his family as they carried boxes and furniture from the U-Haul. My older sister Regan and I had been hoping for a family with girls, but the Vargas family consisted of four boys. Cruz is the youngest. I couldn’t have known then that Cruz and I would become best friends. Now I’m glad it had been him and not a girl moving in.

  The drums are joined by the screech of a guitar by the time I reach Cruz’s front door. I guess he’s trying out the band thing again. Cruz’s mom wanted a girl badly. That’s the reason for Cruz’s existence, actually. After giving birth to three boys, she decided to give it one last valiant effort to get her girl. Even though Cruz is not a girl, his mom made it her life’s mission to live out all her girl fantasies with him.

  That’s one of the reasons he’s been taking piano lessons since he was five. The thing is, that he’s incredibly talented, but playing classical piano isn’t exactly cool in high school. So Cruz has spent the last few months trying to make it cooler by starting a rock band. Problem is, he can’t find anyone with real talent to join it.

  “Hey, Sloane.” Cruz throws me a smile when he opens the door. He wears a grey t-shirt that clings to his muscles and a pair of jean shorts. His feet are bare. Not exactly rockstar material, but with his dark hair, tanned skin and dark eyes, I figure he could perfect the look if he wants to.

  “Are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here?” I ask him with a slight laugh under my words. That’s what I call Cruz’s new bandmates, Carlos Sanchez and Trey Marshall. Not only do they lack talent, but they lack serious tact. Everything out of their mouth is some kind of sexual innuendo. It’s like they have no idea how to talk to a girl.

  “Play nice,” he warns.

  “Tell that to them.” I brush past him, stepping inside. The scent of freshly baked cookies smacks me in the face. “Hmmm.” I follow the smell.

  “Yeah. Mom made cookies. You can grab some. They’re on the counter.” Cruz closes the front door as I scurry into the kitchen. “I’ll be in the garage.”

  “Yeah. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on valuable practice time,” I tease.

  “Hey, I’ll have you know we’re getting better. We even have a gig lined up.”

  “Oh, really?” I spin around, cocking an eyebrow. “Where?”

  “At Ruby’s.”

  “Ruby’s? Like the café that has open mic night on Thursdays?” I lean my elbow against the kitchen doorway.

  His eyes shift back and forth, but he shrugs it off. “Yeah, but whatever. It’s still a gig. Anyway, I better get back.”

  “Hold on.” I have already spotted the plate of cookies sitting on the kitchen counter. After taking a step forward, I snatch one. “I’m coming.” With the chocolate chip cookie in my hand, I follow Cruz toward the door leading to his garage. As he pushes the door open, I bite down on the cookie, chocolate exploding in my mouth. I wipe my mouth with my free hand as I step into the garage behind Cruz. Male voices float over me. The lighting is dim, and white spots fill my vision as my eyes adjust. My gaze sweeps the room landing on Carlos and Trey who stand in the corner laughing about something on Trey’s phone. Something sexual, no doubt. Nudging Cruz in the side, I am about to make a quip about it when my breath catches in my throat.

  “You didn’t tell me Adam Stewart was here,” I whisper harshly, my gaze locked on Adam sitting in front of the drum set, his tousled brown hair falling over his forehead. As he lifts a drumstick, the muscles beneath his t-shirt flex, and my stomach flip flops.

  Cruz flashes me an amused look. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it matters,” I say. When I glance down, I cringe at the cookie melting in my hand. Great. Before Adam can see me, I shove the remainder of the cookie in my mouth and then wipe my palm on my jeans.

  “Why are you getting so worked up?” Cruz laughs, eyeing the chocolate spot on my pants.

  “It’s Adam Stewart,” I hiss.

  “Seriously. I thought you were better than that, Sloane.” Cruz’s eyes darken.

  “Better than what?”

  “Better than Lauren and her friends.” He holds up his arm, his hand dangling daintily from his wrist. In a girly voice he says, “Adam is so hot,
Adam is so smart, Adam is such a good kisser.”

  My eyebrows lift. “Good kisser?”

  He lowers his arm and shrugs. “I sat behind Lauren in math last year.”

  “Ah.” Lauren was Adam’s girlfriend until just a few weeks ago. She is also the head cheerleader, which makes sense since Adam is the star quarterback. They were the perfect couple, but rumor has it she cheated on him so they broke up. I don’t understand why anyone would cheat on Adam Stewart. He’s every girl’s fantasy. Mine included, even though I’ve never really admitted it to anyone, which is obvious judging by the look on Cruz’s face.

  “I had no idea you liked him,” Cruz says.

  “I don’t like him,” I respond defensively. Then I draw in a breath, noticing Adam glancing over in our direction.

  Cruz lifts a brow, one side of his lip curling a bit. “Sure you don’t.” His tone is sarcastic.

  “Shut up.” I punch him in the shoulder. “How come he’s here, anyway? I didn’t even know you were friends.”

  “Are you surprised that the great Adam Stewart would want to hang out with me?” His eyes hold a teasing gleam, but there’s an edge to his voice that bothers me.

  “No, not at all.”

  Reaching out, he circles my arm with his hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  As he guides me over to where Adam sits, I take deep, steadying breaths. I’ve never really spoken with Adam before. I mean, unless you count the time I sat behind him in history last year and accidentally hit him in the head with my book. I muttered an apology under my breath, but other than that I’m pretty sure the guy doesn’t even know I exist.

  When we approach, Adam’s head bobs up and his dark eyes meet mine. Setting down the drumsticks, he runs a hand through his hair and smiles. I literally can’t breathe.

  “Hey, Sloane,” he says, shocking the hell out of me.

  I throw Cruz a surprised look. His eyes are narrowed in a pensive look. Ignoring him, I shake his arm off and turn back to Adam. “Hey,” I say, my tongue feeling swollen in my mouth.

  “So are you in the band too?” Adam asks, placing his hands on his thighs.

  Cruz chuckles. “Hell, no.”

  I stiffen, glaring at him.

  “What?” He throws up his arms. “You’re totally tone deaf.”

  I stare at Cruz, fantasizing about strangling him with my bare hands. When his gaze lands on me, understanding fills his eyes.

  “But she can play a mean tambourine,” he offers with a smile.

  “And she sure can shake that tight ass,” Trey interjects, much to my dismay. Apparently he pried his eyes from whatever debauchery he had been looking at on the phone.

  I turn sharply, catching him and Carlos staring at my rear end.

  “Yeah, why don’t you give us a little preview?” Carlos guffaws, slapping Trey on the back.

  “Hey, leave her alone,” Adam says. “I don’t think she came here to entertain you two pervs.”

  I glance over at Adam, stunned.

  “In fact, I’m guessing she came to hear some music. Am I right?” He gives me a questioning look.

  Unable to find my voice, I nod. Truth is, I didn’t come here to listen to music. I came to get out of my house and hang with Cruz. But now that Adam is playing in the band, things just got a little more interesting. Trey and Carlos sober up and head for their guitars. Cruz looks at me once over his shoulder before heading over to the keyboard.

  As the guys get set up, I plop down in a nearby folding chair. Rotating fans stand all around the room, emitting cool air. I relish it, savoring the feel of it as it brushes over my warm skin. Heat rises in my cheeks when I notice Adam eyeing me. Reaching up, I fiddle with the ends of my long, dark hair, nervously twirling it around my finger. Biting my lip, I glance down at my chipped toenail polish and dirty flip flops. Oh, hell. I’m a mess. Since Cruz was pretty much my only friend growing up, I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy. I only started wearing makeup and dresses this last year after befriending Becca. Still, guys hardly ever notice me.

  Music swells around me, and I look up, Adam’s gaze finding mine again. Unnerved, I look away. Why is he acting like this? I mean, I didn’t even think he knew my name. And I never would’ve expected him to defend me like he did. The whole exchange makes my head spin. Yanking my cell out of my pocket, I think of texting Becca about it. Tonight she’s at the yogurt shop where she works, but she can still get texts. I start to type on the screen and then delete it. There’s no way she’ll believe me. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.

  Adjusting my position in the chair, I listen to the boys play. Oddly enough, they don’t suck as much as last time I heard them. Maybe all they needed was a good drummer to pull them together. I had no idea Adam even played drums, but he’s pretty damn good. The last guy Cruz had was all over the place. I don’t know much about music, and even I could tell his beats were off. When Cruz presses his lips to the mic and starts to sing, I find myself mesmerized. His low, rich voice fills the garage. I’ve known Cruz almost my whole life, but his raw talent never ceases to amaze me. He offers me a broad smile when he sees me watching.

  “Sloane,” Adam says, yanking my attention from Cruz. “I have a tambourine right there.” While he continues to drum, his head nods to the ground next to the drumset. “Come sit over here and give it a go.”

  My stomach flutters. “Okay.” I stand up on shaky legs, pulling the chair behind me. It scrapes on the cement floor as I walk. After reaching down to pick up the tambourine, I set the chair next to Adam and sit in it. On his cue, I hit the tambourine against my open palm. Every time I do, he offers an encouraging nod and grin. A permanent smile etched on my face, I peer over at Cruz. He’s watching me, but his expression is unreadable. A shiver runs through me. Usually I can read Cruz like a book. Confused, I furrow my brow and avert my gaze.

  The boys go through a few more songs, and I continue to play tambourine with Adam’s help. It feels like a dream. Never in a million years did I ever think I’d be hanging out with Adam Stewart. The only downside is how loud it is sitting directly next to the drumset. I’m fairly certain my ears will be ringing for days. But it’ll be worth it. When the practice is over, disappointment sinks into my stomach. Normally I can’t wait for practice to be over so Trey and Carlos can leave. But tonight I had been hoping they would play all night long.

  As Trey and Carlos pack up their guitars, Adam stands up and nods toward Cruz. “Hey, you okay with me keeping my drums here until next practice?”

  “Sure, man,” Cruz responds.

  My heart skips a beat. That ensures I’ll get to see him again. I suppress the grin that threatens to jump on my face and keep my expression neutral.

  “Cool, because I gotta jet. I’m late to meet someone.”

  My stomach plummets at his words. I’m sure the “someone” he’s referring to is of the female variety. Sighing, I set down the tambourine.

  “Hey, you were great tonight,” Adam says.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “Will you be here next time?”

  I nod.

  “Cool.” With that, he spins on his heels and heads toward the door. I watch as he waves at Trey and Carlos. Then he slips out of the garage and I finally allow myself to breathe. Air rushes out of my mouth in a giant exhale.

  “So, I guess you’ll be coming to more practices, huh?” Cruz sidles up to me.

  “Yeah, I think I will.”

  Cruz nods, a dark flicker in his eyes.

  My stomach knots. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Nothing at all.”

  2

  cruz

  Damn it, I never should’ve let Adam join the band. Sure, it seemed like a good solution at the time. Our last drummer couldn’t even keep the beat. He was all over the damn place. When I went to Ruby’s the other day to talk to the manager about playing, Adam was there and he overheard my conversation. He approached me and
said he was a drummer. I thought, what the hell? I’ll give him a chance. I figured the worst that could happen was that he’d be a shitty drummer, so we’d have to kick him out and find someone else.

  But no. Apparently the worst that can happen is he’ll end up dating Sloane.

  I’m not surprised that he was flirting with her. Sloane is hot. She has no idea she is, and that only makes her hotter. But I am surprised that she likes him. I mean, she’s never even mentioned him to me. Although to be fair, she never really talks about guys to me at all. Other than her celebrity crushes, she’s not really one of those girls who gushes about guys. It’s just another thing I love about her.

  Sloane isn’t like other girls. It’s safe to say that for much of our friendship I forgot she was a girl. Lately that’s been more difficult since she’s developed and she’s wearing sexier clothes. It’s damn near impossible when we go swimming. But even though she’s maturing, she’s still tough as nails and can keep up with me any day.

  When we were younger she could belch the whole ABC’s, and she never cared about getting muddy or hurt when we played outside. That’s why I’m surprised about her reaction to Adam. Yeah, yeah, I know that every girl at our school falls all over the dude like he’s a freaking rock star or something. But like I said, Sloane is different. I’ve never seen her fall all over any guy.

  Until tonight, that is.

  Frankly, I was embarrassed for her. I mean, have some self-respect.

  The longer I watched her play that goddamn tambourine and giggle with Mr. Quarterback, the angrier I got. I mean, Sloane isn’t even musical. And she hates playing the tambourine. It’s the reason I brought it up. The one time I asked her to play it at practice I thought she was going to throw the thing at my head she was so irritated. Honestly, it would’ve been funny to see her throw it at Mr. Football Superstar’s head. Then again, his head is so inflated it would probably bounce right off.

  Slamming my fist into the wall in my bedroom, I groan.

  “Whoa. What’s got you so upset?” Gabe pushes open my bedroom door that was slightly ajar and then leans against the doorframe, his eyebrows knit together. “Rough practice?”