Jace’s Intro in his POV — Girl at Heart Deleted Scene

When I first started Girl at Heart, I planned to include Jace’s POV. For some reason, it never felt right. It felt like I was trying too hard to add his scenes and that they weren’t necessary for the story. I didn’t like the flow of the book with them in there, so I took them out. There weren’t many and some of them wouldn’t make sense to you because things got rewritten a lot, but here’s my favorite. It was Jace’s original intro, told from his point of view.

***

Prom. I swear if I have to hear one more thing about it, I’m going to—

“Jace. Are you even listening to me?”

I turn into the school student parking lot and briefly glance at my twin. “Are you still talking about the prom?”

She gives me a look: What else would I be talking about? “Yes. I was just saying—”

I shake my head and cut her off. “Then no. I’m not listening. You’ve been blabbering on about it the entire drive. Actually the entire weekend. I get it. Cole Anderson asked you. You’re excited. Even though I don’t think he’s good enough for you, I’m totally happy for you. I am. I promise. But I am done, Leila. If I have to see one more dress, or hear one more cute story about how Nick and Mia are going to get nominated for King and Queen and make the cutest prom couple ever, or how Sean is going with some random girl instead of Stacie because she refuses to admit she and Sean are together, my head might literally explode.”

Leila sits back with a huff and digs through her purse for her lip gloss. As she flips down the vanity mirror, she says, “You don’t have to be such a grump. I was only asking who you’re taking and if you want to go with Cole and me. I know the football team/cheer squad isn’t your normal crowd, but you’d be welcome.”

My annoyance melts away. My sister can be enthusiastic about a lot of dumb crap, but there’s no denying she’s awesome. “Thanks, sis. I appreciate the invite.”

She smacks her lips to even out the gloss on them then flashes me the beautiful smile that won her a date with the most popular guy in school. “Of course.”

Leila’s gorgeous. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister and it’s my job to brag about her. She just is. All the guys in school talk about her. I’ve had to threaten plenty of them to stay away from her. We share the same blond hair and brown eyes, and we both got my mom’s golden skin tone and Dad’s dimples. I guess I’m decent looking too, but she’s definitely the more attractive twin.

She’s also a sweetheart and super out going. She’s way more popular than me. Not that I care. I’m not the extravert she is. I don’t exactly keep to myself, but I don’t really stray from my small group of friends, either. I’m not stuck up or anything, just focused. I don’t have a lot of time to be social.

“So…?” Leila asks again.

I startle back to the conversation. What was the question? “So…what?”

“Jace!” She groans. “Who are you taking to prom?”

I squirm in my seat and get out of the car without answering hoping she’ll get distracted by one of her bazillion friends because I know she’s going to hate my answer, and I’ll never hear the end of it.

No luck. Leila scampers out of the car and comes chasing after me. “Nice Try Jace King. Come on. Tell me.”

I tip my head back and curse at the sky. “No one, okay? I didn’t ask anyone. I don’t think I’m going.”

“What?” Leila freezes and grabs my backpack, pulling me to a stop with her right in front of the doors so that we’re blocking everyone’s way and causing a scene. “Why not?”

I drag her out of the traffic pattern and lower my voice hoping she’ll follow my lead. “I don’t know. I just have other things on my mind right now than some dumb dance. And besides, the only girl I’d even want to go with is probably going with someone else.”

The moment the confession leaves my mouth I wish I could take it back. Leila’s eyes get scary big and she squeaks as if she’s trying to contain an ear-piercing giddy squeal. “There’s a specific girl you want to go with? You’re seriously crushing on someone? I didn’t know you liked anyone! Who is it? Tell me!”

Why me? Why was I cursed with a perpetually peppy sister?

I grab the straps of my backpack and kick at the ground with my toe. “No one, okay? I’m not crushing on anyone.”

I must blush because Leila’s eyes get even bigger, and she starts jumping shaking and squealing with excitement. “Oh my gosh, you are!” She throws herself at me, squeezing me in this weird jumping hug thing. “I’m so excited! You never date!”

I peel her off me and set her a good arm’s length away. “Chill, okay? It’s not a big deal. It’s not going to go anywhere. She’s dating someone else.”

Leila frowns, her giddiness melting away into disappointment. “Is it serious?”

Is it serious? I met Charlie Hastings the first day of baseball tryouts freshman year, and for as long as I’ve known her, she and Eric Sullivan have been joined at the hip. “Yeah. They’re serious. That’s why I’ve never said anything. Because it doesn’t matter.”

Leila’s face scrunches up, and I swear she’s about to cry on my behalf. “Pull it together, sis. I swear it’s okay. I just don’t want to go to the dance.”

She swallows hard and shakes her head. “No. It’s your senior prom. You should go. We’ll find you someone. Maybe it won’t be your mystery crush, and maybe it won’t turn into a relationship, but we can still find someone you’ll have a good time with.”

I sigh because I know it won’t matter how much I protest. She’ll win in the end. She always does. “That’s really not necessary.”

She rolls her eyes and drags me into the school. “Yes, it is. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you.” She loops her arm through mine and we head toward our lockers, which are pretty close to each other’s. She only lasts about ten second before she’s back to pestering me. “So…? Are you going to tell me who she is, or not?”

I smirk. “Not.”

We argue about this until we get to my locker and find my best friend Mark Reynolds waiting for us. I laugh at how quickly Leila says goodbye once she sees him. Mark’s a good guy, but he’s got a sick puppy-love crush on Leila, and she’s just not having it. She avoids him like the plague. Poor sucker. I can relate. Unrequited love sucks.

“What’s up?” I hold out my hand to slap him five then open my locker.

He sighs, watching Leila disappear around a corner. “Cole Anderson? Seriously? How am I supposed to compete with that?”

I snort. “You’re not. You’re supposed to stop pining over my sister and find a girl who’s actually interested in you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s still staring off in the direction my sister went. “That’s why I asked Rachel Judge to prom.”

My eyebrows climb my forehead. “Leila’s friend Rachel? The cheerleader?”

Mark puffs out his chest. “That’s right.”

I laugh. Mark acting cocky just doesn’t work. “Good for you. She’s cute. I’m surprised she agreed to go out with your sorry behind.”

Mark hits my shoulder. “Hey, shut up man. We’re athletes. We’re about to be state champions too. We’re every bit as popular as the dumb football team.”

“Sure.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and we head toward out first hour together. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Man, whatever. Did you talk to Sullivan?”

I perk up at this. Anything having to do with Sullivan usually involves Charlie too. “No. Why? What’s up?”

“Dude scored Shelly Turner as his prom date. Man, that chick is seriously hot. He, Jones, and Escobar are going in on a limo. They actually invited you and me to go with them—if you can believe that. I told them we’re in, of course.”

I trip over my feet, but thankfully catch myself before I fall on my face. “Sullivan asked Shelly Turner to prom? But what about—”

“Hastings? Yeah, that was my first thought too, but I guess it’s not like that between them. I wonder if she’s going in the limo with us. Who do you think she’s going with?”

I shake my head, stomping down the hope exploding in my chest. There’s no way that can be right. “No way. It has to be like that between them. I mean, sure we’ve never seen them kiss or anything, but they’re practically glued together at the hip.”

Mark shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe she just doesn’t want to go to prom. I can totally see that. But still, if I were her, even if I wasn’t going to the dance, no way would I let him go with someone else. Especially not someone as hot as Shelly Turner.”

I scratch my head and blow a breath out of my cheeks. “No, you’re right. They must not be together. They did grow up together. Maybe they’re too close, you know? Like pseudo siblings.”

“Maybe. Or she’s gay.”

My eyes bulge at that possibility. I’ve never gotten that vibe from her, but I haven’t ever seen her date anyone else, either. If she hasn’t been with Sullivan all this time, maybe there’s a reason. “You think?”

I hate to even entertain that idea. In my head, even though I thought she was dating Sullivan, I always had this sick hope that one day they’d break up and I’d have a shot. I’m up a creek if she’s into girls.

Mark shifts his backpack from one shoulder to the other as we make our way into our classroom and sit down. “Could be,” he finally says. “It’s a possibility anyway. That’s cool, though. I’m always down to be friends with a hot lesbian.”

I roll my eyes and lightly punch Mark’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

…

For the next two hours I obsess over Charlie Hastings. She’s not together with Sullivan. What does it mean? Is she single? Is she batting for her own team? Can I ask her out, or not? By the end of second hour I’ve formed a plan. I only have one class with her—third period, Government, and I always sit next to her. We’re not close, but we’re still teammates, and teammates stick together. We talk a little, but never anything beyond polite conversation or something baseball related. I want to ask her to prom, but I don’t know how to bring it up. Instead, I go with what I’d planned to talk to her about before I found out she might be single. (Yes, I plan ways to talk to her before I get to class every day. Don’t judge.)

I give her a smile when she plops down into her chair beside me. “Hey.”

Her eyes flick to mine for a brief second and she mutters a soft “hey” back before sinking deep in her chair and staring really hard at the desk in front of her. She looks depressed, which is unusual. I want to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the concern, so I try to act normal instead. “I saw you on TV on Saturday.”

It takes her a second to respond. “Huh?”

She barely heard me. My confidence drains out of me, but she’s frowning at me now, waiting for me to say something. “Um…I said I saw you on TV on Saturday.” Jeez, I sound like a moron. “You were at the baseball game with Sullivan. They showed you on the broadcast. Your dad told the story of how you became a catcher because you played catch with him so much that the better you got at catching the ball, the harder he started throwing to you. He said your position was inevitable.”

She blinks twice before it clicks. “Oh. Right.” She forces a small smile. “He tells that story at least once every season. I keep saying he needs new material.”

She falls quiet again and goes back to staring at her desk. It’s really not like her. This is the part where I ask her out. I know it is. I spent all second hour thinking about it. But she’s obviously not in a great mood. I can’t help wondering if it’s about Sullivan asking out Shelly Turner. Maybe she and Sullivan were a thing and they broke up. Maybe she’s angry and she won’t appreciate some random guy hitting on her. But I’m not random. I’m her teammate. Her captain. We’re friends. Kind of. Just do it, you wuss. Ask her out.

“Hey…so I was thinking…” I clear my throat because it’s seconds away from cracking like I’m still freaking thirteen years old. “If you like going to the games, maybe we should go some time. You know…together?”

I hold my breath. That had to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. (And I’ve been playing ball in front of college scouts all season.)

Her eyes drift back to me as if she just realized I’m trying to talk to her. Way to go, loser. You may as well be stalking her. She doesn’t want to go out with you. She doesn’t even want to be talking to you.

“Huh?” She shakes her head as if trying to focus and looks at me again. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Ugh. The universe hates me. It was hard enough to get it out once. Now I have to ask again? “Um…” Again with the throat clearing. “I asked if you’d like to go to a game…with me…sometime.” Crap. Are my cheeks turning red? Am I seriously blushing right now? Why? Why am I such a spaz? “I mean, if you want to. I can’t afford seats behind home plate or anything, but the nosebleeds are still fun, right?”

She stares at me for a long second, stunned, and my stomach twists into knots. I can’t tell if she’s good surprised or bad surprised. It almost seems like she can’t believe or doesn’t understand what’s happening. Like she’s never been asked out before. But that can’t be it. There’s no way. She’s hot, nice, talented, rich, and her dad is famous. If she’s not dating Sullivan, she probably goes out with other athletes or celebrities and stuff.

“You’re asking me to go to a baseball game with you?”

My stomach rolls. That was definitely an incredulous tone. “Um.” I gulp. “Not if you don’t want to.”

I’m going to be sick. She’s going to tell me to get lost.

Her lips twitch at the corners, and she nods. “Okay.”

Wait, what? Okay? Was that a yes? “Really?”

She gives me a small nod. “I mean, I already go to all the home games. I have season tickets. I usually take one of my friends with me, but if you want to come sometime, they can sit one out.”

Well, that sounds more like a friends thing than a date, but I’ll take it. I nod and give her a very cool, calm, “Sure. That would be awesome.”

She tucks a strand of hair that has fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. “Okay, yeah, sure. You have a favorite team you’d like to see?”

It’s my turn to blink at her. “Uh…the Pirates.” I grin and add, “Duh.”

The teasing earns me a small but genuine smile, and I feel like I’m ten feet tall for cheering her up a little. “Of course the Pirates.” She chuckles. “Obviously. I meant any opposing team you’d like to see play?”

My dumb cheeks heat up again, but I shrug trying to play it cool. “Nah. I don’t really care who we’re up against so long as they lose.”

She laughs again and sits up a little straighter in her chair. I’m relieved to see a bit of life back in her. She seems more like herself. “All right,” she says. “I’ll text you the schedule for the rest of this home stand, and you can let me know which day works best.”

For a second I’m so surprised I can’t speak. “You already have my number?”

She smirks. “It’s on the team roster, Captain.”

“Oh. Right.” I resist the urge to facepalm myself. “I knew that.”

I try to think of something to say next, something that won’t make me seem like the biggest moron she’s ever spoken to, but Mr. Musgrove calls us to attention and the moment between us is over. Oh well, I’m happy. I have a date—I think—with the girl of my dreams.