““This is it?” he asked. “Yeah,” Megan replied. “Wow. I thought girls were notorious for overpacking.” “I’m not much of a girl,” Megan replied. What? What did you just say? He looked her up and down and smiled. “Could’ve fooled me.” If the human form could melt spontaneously, Megan would have turned to a puddle of liquid skin right then and there. This six-foot-four, gorgeous hunk of half-naked hottie was flirting with her! Inarticulate, tomboyish, freckle-nosed Megan Meade! He hoisted the mesh bag of soccer balls out of the trunk and flung it over his shoulder. With his other hand he grabbed the large suitcase, leaving only her laptop bag and the smaller suitcase, filled with Megan’s underwear, bras, and pj’s, for her. Even though he had no idea what was in it, Megan was glad that she didn’t have to watch him carry her lingerie up to the house. “I’m Evan, by the way,” he said as she reached up to slam the door. Megan almost choked. “No.” Evan laughed. “Uh…yeah.” “ You’re Evan?” Pudgy, stringy-haired, snot-bubble-blowing Evan had morphed into this WB-worthy god of Olympic proportions? “Yeah, I am,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t you hit me over the head with a baseball bat once?” “It was a wiffleball bat,” she said. “And I think you hung me from a tree first.” “Huh. I always thought it was a baseball bat,” Evan said. “I’m freakishly strong,” she said. Right. Stop talking now. Stop…talking… now! But Evan was, in fact, still smiling. They started up the lawn toward the rest of the family. But Evan was, in fact, still smiling. They started up the lawn toward the rest of the family. “So, you’re a soccer player, huh?” Evan said as they approached. “Good thing. You’re gonna need to be quick to survive this crowd.””
