She’d lost sight of her paddleboard ages ago, swept away by the Sag Harbor current. Crap, she was so getting in trouble for this. Mom’s gonna kill me if I drown. A fresh slice of panic surged. How was she going to marry Parker now if she died? At the stupid age of twelve. Jeez, she’d never even been kissed before! Frowning, she paddled harder. She should have played Spin the Bottle at Nancy Kruger’s last month. Okay, so Amber probably would have been stuck kissing Jimmy Stevens, better known as lizard tongue, but at least she wouldn’t be drowning with virgin lips. An epically lame end to the suckage that was her life. All except for Parker. Parker. So what if he was in the eleventh grade and she was only in sixth. She’d loved him since she was eight years old. He’d briefly been replaced with Justin Timberlake from ’N Sync, but even she knew that was pretty unlikely to happen.
