Ps I Like You Kasie West Read Online Free

  Contents

Half Championship

Championship Page

Dedication

Chapter ane

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Affiliate iv

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Affiliate 7

Chapter viii

Affiliate nine

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter thirteen

Chapter 14

Chapter xv

Affiliate 16

Chapter 17

Affiliate xviii

Affiliate xix

Affiliate 20

Affiliate 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Affiliate 28

Affiliate 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Affiliate 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Affiliate 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Affiliate 45

Affiliate 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Acknowledgments

About the Writer

As well past Kasie Due west

Copyright

A lightning strike. A shark assail. Winning the lottery.

No. I lined through all the words. Too cliché.

I tapped my pen against my lips.

Rare. What was rare? Meat, I thought with a pocket-size laugh. That would go really well in a song.

My pen drew a couple more lines, blackening the words to unrecognizable before I wrote a single word. Love. Now that was rare in my world. The romantic version, at least.

Lauren Jeffries, the girl sitting side by side to me, cleared her pharynx. Information technology was and so I noticed how quiet the classroom was, how I'd slipped into my ain space once again, shutting out the world around me. I had learned how to go along my caput down over the years, how to handle the occasional unwanted attending. I slid my Chemistry textbook over my notebook full of everything but Chemistry notes, and slowly raised my head.

Mr. Ortega's optics were on me.

"Welcome back to class, Lily."

Everyone laughed.

"You were writing down the answer, I'one thousand sure," he said.

"For sure." It was all almost acting unfazed, like I had no feelings.

Mr. Ortega let it go, just as I hoped he would, and moved on to explaining the lab for the following week and what we'd demand to read to fix for information technology. Since he'd let me off the hook and so easily, I idea I'd be able to slip out unnoticed when form concluded, but after the bell rang he called out to me.

"Ms. Abbott? Requite me one minute of your time."

I tried to think of a good excuse to leave with the remainder of form.

"You owe me at least one minute seeing as how the last fifty-five were definitely not spent on me."

The last student filed out of class and I took a few steps closer. "I'grand sorry, Mr. Ortega," I said. "Chemistry and I don't get each other."

He sighed. "Information technology's a two-way street and y'all haven't been doing your office."

"I know. I'll try."

"Aye, you will. If I see your notebook out once again in class, it's mine."

I held back a groan. How would I make information technology through fifty-v minutes of torture every day without a lark? "But I need to accept notes. Chemistry notes." I couldn't remember the last time I took a unmarried Chemistry note, let lone multiple ones.

"You can have one sheet of paper, unattached to a book, that y'all will show me at the end of each period."

I clutched my light-green-and-purple notebook to my chest. Inside information technology lived hundreds of ideas for songs and lyrics, half-finished verses, doodles and sketches. It was my lifeline. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

He gave a pocket-sized laugh. "Information technology'south my job to help you laissez passer my class. You've left me no other choice."

I could've offered him a list of other choices.

"I think we've come to an agreement."

Agreement wasn't the word I would've called. That implied we both had a say in the matter. A improve give-and-take would've been law, ruling … edict.

"Did you have something else to say?" Mr. Ortega asked.

"What? Oh. No, I'thou skillful. Run across you tomorrow."

"Minus the notebook," he called later me.

I waited for the door to close behind me before I opened that notebook again and wrote downwards the word edict on the corner of a page. It was a good word. Not used plenty. In the process of writing, my shoulder slammed into someone, nigh sending me flying.

"Picket it, Magnet," some senior guy I didn't even recognize said.

Ii years later and people still couldn't let the nickname go. I didn't react, but imagined throwing the pen in my hand like a dart at his dorsum as he walked past.

"You look gear up to kill someone," my all-time friend, Isabel Gonzales, said, falling in stride beside me.

"Why exercise people nevertheless call up that stupid picayune chant Cade fabricated upwards?" I grumbled. A stray piece of my dark-auburn hair escaped its hair-tie prison and fell into my optics. I tucked it behind one ear. "It barely even rhymed."

"A dirge doesn't have to rhyme."

"I know. I wasn't debating his dirge-writing skills. I was saying that kids shouldn't retrieve it. Still. After over two years, when there'southward nothing catchy near it."

"I'm distressing," Isabel said, linking her arm through mine.

"You don't take to apologize for him. He's not your boyfriend anymore. Anyway, I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"Well, I do. Information technology's stupid and childish. I recall people say it out of habit now versus actually thinking about what they're proverb."

I wasn't sure I agreed with that, but decided to drib it. "Mr. Ortega banned my notebook from form."

Isabel laughed. "Uh-oh. How are yous going to alive without one of your limbs?"

"I don't know, and in Chemical science of all classes. How tin can anyone be expected to heed in there?"

"I similar Chemistry."

"Let me rephrase that. How tin whatever normal person be expected to listen in there?"

"Are you calling yourself normal?"

I bowed my head, conceding her the win.

Nosotros both stopped as nosotros reached the fork in the sidewalk just past the B building. The pink rock landscape that lined the pathway looked particularly dusty today. I lifted my crimson-sneaker-clad foot and toed a few rocks off the sidewalk.

The landscape was practiced for water conservation, just up close, Arizona scenery did footling to inspire me. I had to observe it from a altitude to notice notebook-worthy lines. The thought reminded me to await up. The beige buildings and crowds of students weren't much better than the rocks.

"And so, fake Mexican food for lunch today?" I asked Isabel every bit Lauren, Sasha, and their grouping of friends walked around us.

Isabel bit her lip, her expression of a sudden worried. "Gabriel wants to run across me off campus today for our 2-month anniversary. Is that okay? I can tell him no."

"Correct, your two-calendar month anniversary. That'southward today? I left your gift at dwelling house."

Isabel rolled her eyes. "What did y'all get me? A homemade volume well-nigh why guys should never be trusted?"

I put my hand on my chest and gasped. "That doesn't sound like something I'd do at all. And the title was How You Know He's A Selfish Squealer. But whatever."

She laughe

d.

"But I'd never give yous a book like that for Gabriel," I added, nudging Isabel. "I really like Gabriel. You know that, right?" Gabriel was sugariness and treated Isabel well. It was her last boyfriend—Cade Jennings, king of stupid chants—who inspired imaginary books.

I realized Isabel was staring at me, still worried. "Of course yous can get to lunch with Gabriel," I said. "Don't worry most me. Accept fun."

"You lot could come with united states of america if … "

I was tempted to make her end that sentence. To accept her invitation just to be funny, but I put her out of her misery. "No. I don't desire to go on your anniversary lunch. Delight. I accept a book to write … Two-Month Anniversaries Are The Start Of Forever. Chapter One: At 60 days, you'll know it's real if he whisks you away from the drudgery of high school and takes you to Taco Bell."

"We're not going to Taco Bell."

"Uh-oh. Just 1 chapter in and it's non looking practiced for you."

Isabel's dark eyes glinted. "Joke all you lot want, simply I think information technology's romantic."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. "I know. It's adorable."

"Yous'll exist okay here?" She pointed across the commons. "Possibly you could hang out with Lauren and Sasha?"

I shrugged. The idea didn't thrill me. I sat next to Lauren in Chemistry and sometimes nosotros'd talk. Like when she'd ask what the homework consignment was or for me to scoot my haversack off of her binder. And Sasha hadn't said fifty-fifty that much to me.

I looked down at my outfit. Today I was wearing an oversized push button-down that I had found at a thrift shop. I'd cut the sleeves to make it more like a kimono and tied a brown vintage belt at the waist. On my feet were beat-up red loftier-top sneakers. My look was quirky, not trendy, and I would stand out in a group like Lauren's where they were all perfectly put together in their slim-plumbing fixtures jeans and tank tops.

I held up my notebook and nodded at Isabel. "It's okay. This will be my gamble to work on a new vocal. You know I don't get whatsoever alone time at home."

Isabel nodded. Then, out of the corner of my middle, I saw him. And I froze.

Lucas Dunham. He was in the centre of a group of other senior guys on a demote, his hoodie zipped up, his earbuds in, staring into space. Like he was present and non present. A feeling I could chronicle to.

Isabel followed my gaze and sighed. "You lot should talk to him, you know."

I laughed, feeling my cheeks warm upwards. "You remember what happened last time I tried that."

"You got nervous, that's what happened."

"I couldn't say anything. Nothing at all. He and his cool hair and his hipster wearing apparel scared me," I finished in a whisper.

Isabel tilted her head while she looked at him as if disagreeing with my assessment of his advent. "You lot just need exercise. Allow's start with someone you lot haven't been pining over for the last ii years."

"I take not been pining over Lucas … "

I trailed off when she leveled me with her knowing stare. She was right. I had been pining. Lucas was probably the coolest guy I knew … Well, I didn't actually know him, only that probably fabricated him more cool. He was a yr older than the states. He wore his nighttime hair long and his clothes consisted of ring tees or old-schoolhouse polo shirts, a contrast that made me unable to put him in a category.

"Double with me and Gabriel adjacent Friday!" Isabel announced of a sudden. "I'll find you a date."

"Pass."

"Come on. Information technology'south been a while since you've been on a date."

"That's because I'thou bad-mannered and weird and it's non fun at all for me or the poor soul who agrees to leave with me."

"That's not true."

I crossed my artillery.

"You only need to become out more than one time … or twice … with someone and then they see how fun you lot are," Isabel argued, adjusting her backpack straps. "You lot're not awkward with me."

"I'm totally awkward with yous but you're not under pressure to eventually kiss me, so you put upward with information technology."

Isabel laughed and shook her head. "That's not why I put up with it. I put up with it considering I like yous. We just accept to discover a guy who you tin can be yourself effectually."

I put my hand over my heart. "And on that hot fall solar day, Isabel started on the incommunicable quest of finding a suitor for her all-time friend. It would be a lifelong quest. One that would test both her decision and her religion. It would lead her to the brink of insanity, and—"

"Stop," Isabel interrupted, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Information technology'southward that kind of attitude that will make this incommunicable."

"That'southward exactly what I've been trying to say."

"No, I'1000 non going to accept that. You'll encounter. The right guy for you lot is out there."

I sighed, my gaze drifting over to Lucas again. "Iz, seriously, I'm fine. No more setups."

"Fine, no more setups. Only be open or y'all might miss something right in front end of you."

I flung my arms out to the sides. "Is in that location anyone more open up than me?"

Isabel gave me a skeptical look. She started to answer when a loud voice called out from across the grass. "There she is! Happy anniversary!"

Isabel's cheeks brightened and she turned toward Gabriel. He jogged the rest of the distance separating them, and lifted her into a hug. They looked gorgeous together—both nighttime-haired, dark-eyed, and olive-skinned. Information technology was weird seeing Gabriel at our school. He went to the high schoolhouse beyond town and I associated him with after-school and weekend events.

"Hey, Lily," he said to me every bit he put Isabel down. "Are y'all coming with us?" His invitation seemed sincere. He really was a overnice guy.

"Yeah, is that cool? I heard you lot were paying and I said, I'm in."

Isabel laughed.

"Peachy," Gabriel said.

"It was a joke, Gabe," Isabel said.

"Oh."

"Yep, I'm not a charity instance." I was beginning to think they idea I was.

"No, of course not. I but feel bad for not letting y'all know earlier," Isabel said.

Gabriel nodded. "It was a surprise."

"You guys are going to run out of time to actually swallow if you go on coddling me. Go. Accept fun. And … uh … congratulations. I recently read a book about how two-month anniversaries are the showtime of forever."

"Really? Cool," Gabe said.

Isabel just rolled her eyes and smacked my arm. "Be good."

I stood on the path alone now, watching the groups of students effectually me talking and laughing. Isabel'south worry was unfounded. I was fine lonely. Sometimes I preferred it that way.

I sat on the school steps with my notebook in my lap, drawing. I added a few flowers to the sketch of the skirt, then shaded in the tights with a green colored pencil. My earbuds were in, and I was listening to a song by Blackout. The atomic number 82 singer, Lyssa Primm, was basically both my mode and music idol—a genius songwriter who rocked cherry-cerise lips, vintage dresses, and her e'er-nowadays guitar.

"Stretch out your wilting petals and let the light in," the song played in my ears. I tapped one foot to the beat. I wanted to learn how to play this particular song on my guitar. Hopefully, I could exercise after.

The sound of the minivan was loud enough to drown out the music, and I didn't demand to look upwardly to know my mom had just arrived. I closed my notebook, stuffed it into my backpack, took out my earbuds, and got to my feet. I could run into the two heads of my brothers in the backseat. Mom must've picked them up from school first.

I opened the rider door, an erstwhile One Direction song filling the air, only to find the seat taken past my mom'due south bead organizer.

"Can y'all hop in the back?" Mom asked. "I have to deliver a necklace to a client on our mode home." She pushed a button and the side door slid open, revealing my two footling brothers fighting over an activity figure. A plastic cup rolled onto the ground. I looked around to see how embarrassed I should be. The parking lot wasn't too fu

ll anymore. A few kids were getting into their own cars or shouting to their friends. No ane seemed to be paying attending to me.

"Sorry I'grand late," Mom added.

"It'south fine." I close the front door, swiped the loving cup off the cobblestone, and patted my brother on the back. "Scoot over, Thing Two."

I wiped some Cheez-It crumbs off the seat and sabbatum down. "I thought Ashley was picking me up," I said to Mom.

My older sister, Ashley, was nineteen. She had her own car, a chore, and went to higher. But because she still lived at abode (stealing my opportunity of having my own room) she had to contribute to family unit obligations. Like picking me upwards from school.

"She's working at the campus store late tonight," Mom reminded me. "Hey, are y'all complaining about your super hip mom picking y'all up?" She smiled at me in the rearview mirror.

I laughed. "Do super hip moms use the discussion hip?"

"Fly? Bomb? Awesome?" In the middle of her list she turned to my brother and said, "Wyatt, yous're x, allow Jonah have information technology."

"Just Jonah is seven! That'southward only iii years younger. He shouldn't become everything."

Jonah elbowed me in the stomach in his endeavor to steal the Iron Man figure.

"It's mine now," I said, causing an outraged cry from both my brothers equally I took the activity figure and flung it into the body.

My mom sighed. "I don't know how helpful that was."

"My intestines appreciate it very much."

My brothers both stopped mid-whine and giggled, the desired result of my proclamation. I tousled their hair. "How was schoolhouse, Things?"

My mom slammed on her brakes every bit a black BMW cut into her lane. I reached over to keep Jonah from hitting his head on the seat in front of him. I didn't have to await at the driver to know who it was. Simply I could see him anyhow, his wavy dark hair styled to perfection. Cade had the boy-next-door looks—tall, big smile, puppy-domestic dog brown eyes—without the personality to become with them.

"Someone didn't learn safety driving skills," my mom muttered every bit Cade drove abroad. I wished she had laid on her horn.

"He didn't acquire a lot of skills." Including the ability to make chants rhyme.

"You know him?"

"That's Cade Jennings. People telephone call him Jennings the Jerk though." Now that was catchy. Alliteration. Magnet … Lily? How did anyone think that?

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