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  TWELVE STEPS is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Veronica Bartles.

  TWELVE STEPS by Veronica Bartles

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance.

  Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Books, LLC.

  No part of this e-Book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Edited by Mandy Schoen

  Cover design by Morgan Media

  Cover copyright © 2014 by Swoon Romance

  Praise for

  “With her debut novel, Veronica Bartles creates a fun, fast-paced story about a feisty heroine whose plan to steal her oh-so-perfect sister’s spotlight leads to a messy love triangle … no, love pentagon. TWELVE STEPS will have you cheering when Cinderella finds her backbone, Prince Charming learns that not every stepsister wants his glass slipper, and the heroine realizes she’s been shining in her own light all along.” – Laura Bowers, Author of BEAUTY SHOP FOR RENT and JUST FLIRT

  “For anyone who’s ever felt second best, or struggled to find their place in the world, this book is for you! Grab the chocolate, turn off the phone, and prepare to ride the roller coaster of Andi’s life as it unfolds, page after humor-filled page. This is contemporary romance done right!” – Rachel Harris, Author of MY SUPER SWEET SIXTEENTH CENTURY

  Way back in junior high school, I made a promise I’ve never forgotten. So this book is dedicated to:

  Amy, the future first female President of the United States,

  Jason, who told me I could do anything I set my mind to,

  and Monica, who believed in me enough to keep a slip of paper with my autograph for 22 years, while waiting for this day to arrive.

  There should be a support group for kids with perfect siblings. Something like AlaTeen, but without the drug talk. We could sit around and chat about how our flawless family members are systematically destroying our lives.

  “Hello, my name is Andrea Andersen, and I am a second-class sibling.” And if my sister weren’t so freakishly perfect, I wouldn’t still be grounded.

  I grab the last handful of hangers out of my closet and hurl the clothes onto the growing pile on my bed. It’s not like one little D in biology would have ruined my life. My A-plus in history should have balanced it out.

  After more than a week of serious butt kissing, I almost convinced Mom to ease up on my sentence, but then Laina piped up with “maybe if you stopped skipping class, you wouldn’t be failing.”

  Well, maybe if Mr. Keeler didn’t always compare me with Laina, I wouldn’t need to ditch.

  I throw my shoes, one by one, into the middle of my bedroom floor. I’m so not in the mood to sort through my clothes for Laina’s annual clothing drive.

  I ignore a sharp knock, but Mom opens my door anyway. “Jarod’s here,” she says. “You can talk for ten minutes.”

  I scramble to my feet, smoothing my clothes and yanking my hair into a loose bun.

  Jarod never comes over for just me. Even when I used to help him run lines for the school play, he always made sure Laina would be around. I’ve always been an excuse for him to drool over the Princess of Perfection. Even though I was friends with Jarod first, my sister was the one he noticed.

  But I’ve been grounded for nearly two weeks. Maybe he’s missed me.

  “Are you sure he wanted me?” I ask. “Not Laina?”

  Mom sighs and looks at me like I’m stupid. “He said it was important. And your ten minutes start now.” She pushes a button to start the stopwatch feature on her phone and stalks off toward her bedroom.

  I scurry in the opposite direction, grateful for once that Mom plays favorites. She wouldn’t give me even ten minutes for anyone other than Jarod.

  Ironically, I might have had a real chance with him if it weren't for mom's lopsided angel food cake and Mrs. Johnson's extra crispy brownies at the Much Ado About Nothing cast reception.

  Jarod and I were extras together in the community theater production, back in the summer before Jarod and Laina started junior high. We bonded over a mutual love of Shakespeare, and I was almost sure he liked me too.

  But then my sister decided to watch my rehearsals.

  The minute Laina walked into the auditorium with her tight tops, short skirts and newly-sprouted boobs, Jarod totally forgot I was alive. He got so distracted watching her that the director had to give Jarod’s one line to another actor.

  When our mothers bonded over their failed desserts, Mrs. Johnson mentioned Jarod’s “little crush,” and Mom flew into full-on matchmaker mode. She pushed Laina into Jarod’s life every chance she could get, even convincing the Johnsons to start attending worship services with us on Sundays, “so the kids could get to know each other better.”

  Laina and Jarod have been practically joined at the hip ever since.

  For the past six years, I’ve been nothing but Laina’s freckled and awkward, metal-mouthed, frizzy-haired, little sister. And even though I ditched the braces last fall and I finally figured out how to use a straightening iron on my hair without frying the ends, I didn’t think Jarod would ever see me as anything more than Laina’s little sister.

  But this time, he’s here for me.

  At the end of the hall, I stop to gather my composure and plan my approach. I pull a few strands of hair out of my bun to frame my face and check my reflection in the mirror hanging in the middle of some old family photos. Quickly flipping through a catalog of emotions, I decide my safest bet is to appear slightly bored, yet curious. Jarod would totally shut down if I came on too strong.

  Mom only gave me ten minutes to work my magic. I can’t blow this by getting all squealy and excited.

  Thomas Jefferson once said, “Nothing gives a person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances.” And I need every advantage I can get.

  I walk into the living room and manage not to trip over my own feet when Jarod smiles at me. “Hey,” I say in my best casual voice. “What’s up?”

  Jarod takes a step toward me and looks over my shoulder. “Your mom isn’t going to come in here, is she? This is kind of private.” He’s close enough that I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.

  I shiver and shove my hands into my pockets, so he won’t see them shaking. It would be so easy to turn my head just a fraction of an inch and kiss him, but Jarod’s kind of a traditionalist. I have to let him make the first move, or I risk scaring him off.

  “No, I have at least eight more minutes before the warden sends me back to solitary confinement.” I move to the couch and collapse onto the soft cushions. Hugging one of mom’s giant throw pillows to my chest, I take a deep breath to slow my pulse and calm my quivering nerves.

  His mouth curls up into a slow, sexy grin and I have to look away. I concentrate on separating the strands of fringe along the edge of the throw pillow as he crosses the room. Anything to distract myself.

  Jarod stands over me and pulls on one of my loose curls. “Did I catch you in the middle of a nap?” he asks. “You look a little out of it.” I’m suddenly ultra-conscious of my rumpled sweats. I wish I’d taken time to change into something sexier.

  I ditch the pillow and resist the urge to fix my hair. I have to be cool and unruffled. “Nope. Just rockin’ the can’t-leave-the-house casual look today. And you’re stalling.” I pat the cushion beside me. “What do you nee
d?”

  Jarod perches on the opposite edge of the couch and clasps his hands in his lap. A second later, he stands up again. A slow blush creeps across his cheeks, and he wipes his palms on his jeans. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, and then he sits down, a few inches closer to me.

  I wait while he picks at an imaginary speck of lint on the couch cushion between us. I’ve never seen him so nervous. Not even around Laina.

  I lick my lips. I’m not going to kiss him first, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready.

  “I need you,” he finally says, reaching out to take my hand and gazing into my eyes.

  This is the point where I usually wake up. I pinch my arm hard enough to leave an angry, red welt, but Jarod is still here, still smiling at me, still waiting for me to say something.

  Oh, crap, he’s waiting for me to say something.

  I take a deep breath to calm the miniature acrobats practicing backflips in my stomach. But Jarod is tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, and there’s no calming my bubbling insides. He leans closer, and the smell of his watermelon-mint gum mixed with the musky scent of his cologne is nearly enough to drive me over the edge.

  I pull back a bit. Not enough so I’ll seem uninterested, but enough that he’ll have to put in some effort when he decides to go for it. “You do?” My casual voice is gone, replaced by a nervous squeak.

  “I do.” He smiles and releases my hand. “I’ve tried everything, but Laina still won’t go out with me.”

  “Yeah,” I say, leaning in to seal his confession with a kiss. I can’t believe Jarod Johnson wants me. He needs me. He—Wait, what?

  “Thanks, Andi. You’re a great friend. I knew I could count on you to talk to her for me.” He hugs me and then slumps against the back of the couch with a grin.

  I want to slap that smile right off his face. To scream and cry and beg him to love me. But of course, I won’t. This isn’t some cheesy soap opera. Real life takes finesse. Now, more than ever, I have to remain unruffled and in control. Because Laina’s had Jarod on a string for six years.

  She’s had her chance with him.

  I yawn and peel myself off the couch, stretching slowly. “Yeah, well, if that’s all you need, I guess I’d better get back to my room. I’m pretty sure my ten minutes are up.” I saunter out of the room, careful not to let any kind of emotion show.

  I totally need a twelve-step program.

  When my best friend, Summer, started going to AlaTeen meetings last year, after her mom’s drinking got out of control, she explained that acceptance is always the first step to fixing anything. You have to admit that you have a problem. Because no matter how much you try to ignore it, the issue will never, ever go away unless you have the courage to face it.

  So, yeah, I admit it. My life completely sucks. All because of my super-brilliant, gorgeous, God’s-gift-to-the-entire-universe, perfect older sister, Alaina.

  It’s not that I don’t love her. I totally do. But Laina’s ability to go through life without ever once making a single mistake makes the rest of us normal people look bad. And no mere mortal can compete with her awesomeness.

  Laina took her first steps when she was six months old. She potty trained herself before her first birthday. And she was already reading by the time she turned three. Because she was their first child, my parents thought this behavior was completely normal. They thought I was “developmentally challenged” because I wasn’t speaking in full sentences at ten months old. Laina sets the bar so high, it’s impossible to reach.

  If I tried, I could wrap my teachers around my little finger, like she does. High school teachers are the easiest people in the world to manipulate. All you have to do is pretend to think they’re fascinating, and suddenly they think you’re the best thing since sliced bread. But Laina’s already been there, done that, and if the best part I can hope for is understudy, why bother trying out?

  There’s supposed to be a balance between sisters. One gets the brains, and the other gets the looks, but I didn’t even get to be the “pretty one.” Laina grabbed that title too, long before I had a chance to grow out of my awkward phase. To say Laina developed early would be a serious understatement. When all of her friends were still afraid to take the training wheels off their bikes, Laina was already trying on training bras. While I waited for braces and zit cream to work their magic on me, Laina grew into a real-life Barbie doll, complete with a whole flock of adoring Ken wannabes, following her around like so many little, lost puppies.

  Last year, after our marching band totally failed in the State Finals, Laina decided that people didn’t take her seriously enough. She suddenly started hiding under oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans, but I don’t know what she thought that would accomplish. She said something about wanting people to notice her mind, not just her boobs, but you can’t hide a mountain range under a drop cloth.

  Now, the guys are more anxious than ever to try to peel away the layers and reveal the hot body underneath. Normal girls can’t compete with looks like hers, and I never even got a real chance with Jarod before she snapped him up as part of her harem.

  The only role Laina didn’t claim was “cute and carefree,” because that label doesn’t mesh well with sheer, unadulterated perfection. So I’m the fun one. The one who doesn’t care what anyone thinks. The one who has no problem ditching third period to hang out at the park across the street with Nick Carver, because making out with him is better than listening to Mr. Keeler’s boring biology lectures.

  It isn’t as easy as you’d think to keep up the act, but what other choice do I have? I can’t exactly be nothing.

  ***

  Laina strolls into my bedroom without bothering to knock. She tosses me an unopened package of Oreos, and then she shoves the piles of sorted clothes into a heap on the floor so she can flop onto my bed. “You skipped dinner. Thought you could use some sustenance.” She runs her fingers through her long, blonde hair and examines it for split ends. Sometimes, I think it must be super exhausting to keep up her level of perfection.

  “Thanks.” I force a smile and slowly open the package of cookies.

  “I don’t know how you can eat all the junk you do. I would feel like such a slug if my diet was like yours.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for not judging me or anything.” I drop the cookies on my bedside table. She could have brought me carrot sticks or salad if she was so concerned about my eating habits, instead of bringing me cookies as a substitute for dinner.

  I grab several hangers and shove them back into my closet before reaching for the rest. Laina already has everything else. She doesn’t need my clothes for her precious clothing drive.

  “Uh-oh,” Laina says. “If Oreos can’t fix whatever this is, it must be serious. What’s up?”

  “My sister’s only ruining my life,” I mutter. “No big deal.”

  “Well, isn’t that what big sisters are for?” She bats her eyelashes and flashes a goofy grin.

  She’s obviously trying to make me smile, but I’m not exactly in a smiling mood. I glare at her and start tossing shoes back into the closet. But Laina amps up her grin and adds an exaggerated shoulder shimmy and hair flip. “I’m just doing my job.”

  I can’t help laughing a little bit. “You’re good at it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pauses and frowns. “Um, I don’t actually know what I did wrong.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do.”

  I grab the Oreos and flop onto the bed beside her. I pop a whole cookie into my mouth and chew it slowly, buying time to gather my thoughts. It’s not fair for me to be angry. Laina can’t help being perfect and adorable.

  And for someone so smart, she’s totally clueless when it comes to anything real. I honestly don’t think she realizes that half of the guys in school are totally in lust with her. She’s never even noticed that her best friend is a jealous witch who spends every waking moment trying to convince Laina that she’ll never be good enough
. And she doesn’t know she does the same thing to me. But the thing is, Laina’s not trying to make me miserable. She’s just so determined to make everything perfect that she never realizes how frustrating it is to have my every flaw analyzed.

  “I really am sorry you’re so upset. You can yell at me, if it helps,” Laina says.

  Of course I’m not going to yell at her. But obviously, I can’t tell her about Jarod’s visit this afternoon either. If she ever stopped being so clueless and realized he’s in love with her, I’d lose any hope of a chance with him.

  I swallow hard and sit up, crossing my legs and leaning against the headboard. “You should be sorry. You’d think a straight-A student like you would be smart enough to realize that Oreos cannot be properly devoured without the requisite glass of milk.” I frown and stare at my empty hands, as if waiting for milk to magically appear.

  “Oops!” Laina jumps up, giggling, and races out of the room.

  I feel the slightest twinge of guilt over manipulating her compulsive need to please people, but sometimes Laina’s neuroses totally come in handy. And right now, I really need a few minutes to plan my next move. Thomas Jefferson’s advice about being cool and unruffled is perfect in almost every situation, but sometimes life requires a little bit of carefully-constructed drama. And if I’m going to get ungrounded in time to show Jarod he’s going after the wrong sister, this is definitely one of those times.

  Laina returns a few minutes later and hands me a tall glass of cold milk. I carefully twist open an Oreo and lick out the crème filling before dunking the cookie part into my milk.

  “Okay, now will you tell me what’s bothering you?” Laina asks.

  I blink back a few well-timed tears. “Nothing. I’m fine. Really.” I dissect another cookie.