Krissi Dallas
He’s an internet star.
She can’t stand him.
Together they just went viral.Daisy McEntire might seem like an uptight control freak, but it’s only because she’s trying to graduate high school, support her cancer-fighting mother, and save her family’s riverside campground. The last thing she needs is her obnoxious neighbor, internet star Caz Cortéz, keeping everyone up with his late night video stunts and ridiculous pranks. Forget that they grew up as best friends—that was before he relentlessly obsessed over his hair and stats.
But when Daisy accidentally botches one of Caz’s pranks on livestream, the video goes viral, endangering his sponsorships and throwing her into an unwelcome spotlight. As if the overnight attention isn’t enough, half a million dollars in an unbreakable lockbox mysteriously appears. The key to unlock it? Reenact a series of cliché Hollywood movie scenes together within 48 hours.
The catch? It all has to be done live on the Internet—no rehearsals.
Daisy needs the money. Caz needs the stats. Surely they can work together long enough to complete the challenge, split their earnings, and then get back to ignoring each other from across the property line.
The one challenge they can’t control, though, is the one that could jeopardize it all—falling in love.
Excerpt:
If the hammering and shouting and explosions didn’t stop, I might go to prison for murder. I knew exactly who my deserving victim would be, and I would make sure his perfect hair got jacked up in the process.
It was almost midnight, and Caz Cortéz and his goons were still making so much racket outside my window that I couldn’t concentrate on the SAT study guide in front of me. My two nicely-worded text messages had gone ignored, and my teeth were starting to hurt from grinding them. Tomorrow was my second attempt at taking this test… not that the first attempt had been bad. But if I scored higher, I could earn the scholarship money I needed. If I was ever going to get a college degree, it would be because someone else paid for it. That meant here I was with my high school graduation in T-minus six days, still completely stressing over my life.
BOOM.
That one actually rattled my window. Which meant it probably rattled Mama’s—and that was where I drew the line. I slammed my laptop closed and found my slip-on tennies, not caring that I was wearing hole-y plaid pajama pants and a tank top. On my way down the hall, I paused and cracked my mom’s door to see if she had woken.
“Don’t go over there and bother him, Daisy.” Her voice was lower and scratchier than it used to be and it still sometimes surprised me.
“Me? Bother him?” I repeated and stepped closer to her bed, avoiding the tired floorboards that I knew creaked. “Do you hear what I’m hearing? It’s like a war zone or something.”
“He’s just having fun.”
“No, he’s just being disrespectful of people who live in the real world. You need your sleep, Mama. He knows that.”
She turned over slowly in the bed, her bald head even paler than usual in the moonlight. It only increased my frustration at the arrogant jerk whose property bordered ours. She had clearly fallen asleep reading her worn-out, marked-up Bible and now placed it on her bedside table. My dad might’ve walked out on us six years ago, but Mama and Jesus never left each other.
“Oh, it’s fine. I like watching all his shenanigans on the YouTube—”
The growl that ripped out of me was not attractive. “Please tell me you are not wasting your time on that garbage.”
“He’s out there living his life. Stirring up good clean fun—something I wish you’d try. Besides, he warned me he’d be shooting an important stunt until late tonight.”
“Well, nobody warned me, the one taking the SAT in eight hours. And we have new reservations arriving tomorrow afternoon and then graduation this weekend, and did you really just insinuate that I don’t know how to have fun—”
Another loud bang.
That’s it. I was done.
“I’ll be back in a few.”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret...”
I stomped away, not caring about the creaky floorboards now. Mama had always had a soft spot for the two Cortéz boys who grew up on the acres that bordered the west side of our campground. She was just one example of the 3.2 million people who subscribed to the Caz Cortéz brand of internet charm. Not that I was counting his subscribers. Or his views. I spent most of my time avoiding his channel and social media—unless Katarina Carmichael was guest starring in one of his videos and I felt like punishing myself. Sometimes my obnoxious curiosity about the status of their relationship overshadowed my better judgment.
I made my way down the uneven wooden steps of our front porch, thinking that those were going to need replacing soon. Just like the floorboards in the house and the paint-stripped siding. And the dock down at the river and the roof on the Registration Station…
When I reached the property line, I ducked through the broken slats in the fence. We had intentionally left it that way for years—the not-so-secret trail between our houses. Caz still used it to drop by to see Mama and the camp staff or to borrow tools. Sometimes I thought he came over just to make an occasional jab at me. But I hadn’t crossed to his territory for at least eight months.
Not since what happened at the beginning of senior year. Not since he dropped out of school right after that. Nope. I tried to see as little of him as possible—in person and online.
But tonight… the gloves were coming off.
I finally burst out into the clearing, stunned at first to see nothing resembling the boxy little fort thirteen-year-old Caz had been so proud of building. Instead it looked as if the trees had sprouted a gigantic cabin with wood panels and windows and lighting. It was… impressive. And right there on the topmost balcony underneath a carved sign that said “The Caztle” was the object of my wrath… with a dumb camera strapped to a helmet on his head.
“Caspian Francisco Cortéz!” I barked up at him, causing the guy to my right to jolt and drop his camera stick.
“Daisy? What’re you—” But Caz didn’t get another word out before he suddenly toppled over the edge of the balcony, shouting for help. His body made a sickening thud that echoed inside the metal scrap bin at the base of his tree mansion.
Oh, no, no, no…
A scream ripped out of me as my legs catapulted me forward. I tried desperately to pull myself up over the edge of the bin, praying he would just pop up with a scratch and a groan. I might’ve said I wanted to kill him, but not like this…
“Caz! Are you okay?” I screeched, the blood draining from my face. But just as I started to lean over the edge, Caz shot up out of the bin just as I tumbled in… and landed on a mattress.
Oh, great balls of cheese, this was a setup!
“Please tell me you got all of that… Rocco! Did you get it?” Caz sputtered. No idea who Rocco was, but I was guessing the minion with the camera on a selfie stick.
“No way, man. She came out of nowhere and I dropped it. Missed her reaction and EJ’s.”
“Nooo…” Caz groaned dramatically. “I can’t do that stunt again!” Then, as if he suddenly remembered me sprawled at his feet inside a dark dumpster, he bent down and leaned on his knees. His face was a silhouette against the treehouse lights, but I could still hear the stupid smile in his voice. “Nice dumpster diving, Dizzy. I had no idea you cared so much about me.”
Author Bio:
Krissi Dallas loves pop music, mismatched socks, and Tex-Mex food. She is wife to Dr. Sam Dallas, mom to two strong-willed little boys and a mini goldendoodle, and former junior high teacher of sixteen years. When she’s not busy serving in her church and community, Krissi gives herself over to daydreams and writing. She has five books in the Phantom Island series with the sixth and final installment on the way. Her Kindle Vella novel, Icarus Flight School, spent eleven weeks as the #1 Top Faved story in Teen and Young Adult and just released in paperback and hardcover. Her ongoing serial romantic comedy, Wish Upon A Streaming Star, is currently a Top Faved story on Kindle Vella where new episodes release every weekend. She’s a proud member of the writing community at Art House Dallas and loves nothing more than connecting with readers and writers of all ages.
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