Read The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) for Free Online Page B

cried. Sappy Mom's and Dad's, check. Boys? Not even a half of a check.
    I poked his knee.
    He buried his face into his elbow and wailed.
    I, um, I poked his knee again, feeling more mature by the minute.
    He reached into his pocket and whipped out a box. A ring box.
    And laughed hysterically. "Got ya again!"
    I swatted him. "You're such a jerk."
    He opened the box and the ring sparkled in the sun. "What do you think?"
    "You already tried this one on me."
    "No. This one is real. I got it for Zoe."
    I raised my eyebrows. "Zoe? You've been together, what, a week?"
    "Two."
    "Two weeks." I shoved the ring box closed. "No way. You're not proposing."
    "I am." He put the box back into his pocket. "But I need your help to pull it off."
    My nose stung a little, almost as though chlorine had snuck its way through my tear ducts, into my nose, and wanted to come back out. My eyes burned. They burned. What? I was not about to cry. I wouldn't. But why was I?
    I played it off. "I'm so happy for you."
    "Thanks." He stared dreamily into space. "Getting all emotional on me, huh? Alistair really did a number on you."
    Thank God the burning water dried up and my eyes went back to normal. Nose too. "It's not Alistair." Or was it?
    "You don't want to look him up? Not even the slightest bit?"
    "Haven't thought about it much. How could I find him anyway? No last name."
    He pulled his phone out and set it on his thigh, clicked a few things, then showed me the screen. "This him?"
    "Nope. Nice try."
    He did it again. "This?"
    I was all geared up to prove that I was right when Alistair's eyes looked at me. Well, his eyes on the tiny phone screen.
    "Guess so. Just looked up his name, put the word band in, plus added where he's from. Cake work."
    Those eyes were still there.
    "You done drooling yet?"
    "What's his bands name?"
    "Kitten Corner."
    I laughed. "What is it, dork?"
    "Jingle Jam."
    "And his last name?"
    He clicked around on his phone. "Alistair Anonymous."
    "Can't you be serious for one minute of your life?"
    "No." He showed me the phone. "That's what it says on his band's page."
    "Must be a stage name." I shook my head. "All this time I had his name."
    "See, you wanted to look him up."
    "Noooooo. Just saying. Weird, that's all."
    "Uh, huh. As soon as we leave your lips are going to be pressed against your phone."
    "Anyway, about the proposal."
    "About that. Let's brainstorm."
    "You realize you're brainstorming with the most unromantic person in the universe, right?"
    "Exactly. That's what'll make this proposal unique."
    "Or terrible."
    "Brainstorm?"
    "Kay."
    He leaned back on the car window and didn't pull me into him this time. Cuddles were off limits when he was taken. Which would be forever now. I'd never press my ear against his heartbeat again.
    Burning nose.
    I crinkled my face and shoved the sensation away, then reclined next to him and stared at the sky. I was supposed to brainstorm proposal ideas, but all I could think about was Donovan's heart beating over there without my cheek against it.
    Something was dreadfully, dreadfully wrong with me.

    Brainstorming sesh was as uneventful as it gets. And, hate to say it, but Donovan was totally right. As soon as he pulled away, laughing at me, I grabbed my phone and looked Mr. Alistair Anonymous right up. Who makes their stage name Alistair Anonymous anyway? Talk about weird.
    I found his band page. Alistair Anonymous, drummer and backup vocals for Hatchenfield. So moody in his pictures. I searched his name again and scrolled through the results, hoping maybe to find a Facebook account or something. Not that I'd contact him. If I wanted to I could just send a message through Hatchenfield's website like a regular old stalker. But I didn't want to. If I ever saw him again, which I probably wouldn't, it would be when he said and how he said. No sooner. No messages. No stalking. No desperation from my side of the ocean.
    Because I wasn't desperate.
    But I was curious....
    And so maybe I was a