Hot Read online

  “Laura is not only an outstanding author but also an inspirational friend who I look up to in so many ways. Her book inspires me to live a pure and fruitful life, the way God has planned. Hot made me laugh, it made me cry, and it made me feel blessed to have God’s grace glisten between relationships seen and unseen.”

  — DANIELLE DARAH, communications and entrepreneurship

  undergraduate student, Miami University

  “Laura L. Smith has thoughtfully crafted the true temptations of teens into a tender story of forgiveness and mercy. Her accurate interpretation of the constant struggle to balance living God’s Word while living in this world makes her characters believable and relatable. This muchneeded book handles its tough topic both delicately and profoundly.”

  — T. L. BUNDY, English teacher and author

  “In Hot, Laura Smith coolly addresses the issue of that three-letter word in a way that’s current, applicable, and authentic. Every teenage girl must read this book (or she’ll look back and wish she had).”

  — AMY PARKER, author of A Night Night Prayer,

  God’s Promises for Boys, and God’s Promises for Girls

  “It was all of the feelings I have ever felt with trying to remain pure. Thank you, Laura, for tackling a difficult topic that all young girls deal with. This book shows us the importance of God’s plan for our purity and provides hope for our own personal lives.”

  — REBECCA HART, graduate student, Miami University

  “I read the whole book in one sitting! I’ve worked with so many teen girls who would be able to identify with Lindsey’s dreams and feelings. Lindsey is not perfect, but she learns from her choices. I’ve seen in ministry how important it is for young people to get their hearts clean with God and their friends.”

  — MONIKA ALLEN, missionary, Youth With A Mission

  “I started to read Hot thinking it would be a book I could pick up in between my homework and busy life. But once I began reading, I found that I couldn’t put the book down. It kept me turning page after page in anxious anticipation for how it would all turn out. This book brings hard, controversial issues to the surface and deals with them in a very real way. I loved Hot!”

  — KELCI HOUSE, student, Miami University

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  www.NavPress.com

  NavPress is the publishing ministry of The Navigators, an international Christian organization and leader in personal spiritual development. NavPress is committed to helping people grow spiritually and enjoy lives of meaning and hope through personal and group resources that are biblically rooted, culturally relevant, and highly practical.

  For a free catalog go to www.NavPress.com

  or call 1.800.366.7788 in the United States or 1.800.839.4769 in Canada.

  © 2010 by Laura L. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without written permission from NavPress, P.O. Box 35001, Colorado Springs, CO 80935. www.navpress.com

  NAVPRESS and the NAVPRESS logo are registered trademarks of NavPress. Absence of ® in connection with marks of NavPress or other parties does not indicate an absence of registration of those marks.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60006-622-1

  Cover design by Disciple Design

  Cover image by Veer

  Author photo by Kelci House

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.

  Scripture quotations in this publication are taken from the New King James Version (NKJV). Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved; and the Holy Bible, New Living Translation (NLT), copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Smith, Laura L., 1969-

  Hot : a novel / Laura L. Smith.

  p. cm.

  Summary: High-schooler Lindsey has always attracted boys who seem only interested in her body, but when she begins dating handsome senior Noah, she finds the real connection she has craved, but her Christian faith and commitment to celibacy are tested.

  ISBN 978-1-60006-622-1

  [1. Dating (Social customs)--Fiction. 2. Sexual abstinence--Fiction. 3. High schools--Fiction. 4. Schools--Fiction. 5. Christian life--Fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.S6539Hot 2010

  [Fic]--dc22

  2009050470

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 / 14 13 12 11 10

  To Brett: thank you for your outpouring of the kind of love described in 1 Corinthians 13 and rarely exhibited in real life. I will never be able to express my gratitude and love to you for being blind to my past. You are integral in every particle of my present and our moments together are what I most look forward to in my future.

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  God, thank You for the gift of forgiveness. Thank You also for rays of inspiration that nurture the plots and characters You plant in my mind. Without Your love my words are but a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

  Maddie, Max, Mallory, and Maguire: Thank you for your priceless love. You’ll never know how much you warm my heart. I praise God each day for giving me such amazing children. I pray you will always turn to Him to make wise decisions and that you will always be confident in His love and my love for you.

  Mom: Thank you for sparking my love for books, both reading and writing them, and for being my number one fan.

  Rebekah Guzman: Thank you for believing in me, Lindsey, and her friends. Thank you for being brave enough to take on such steamy subjects. It is your faith and support that ignited these stories to life.

  Amy Parker: Thank you for your incredible gift of word-smithing. You simmered this story taking it from warm to Hot. You are an incredible source of inspiration in both my faith and my writing.

  Todd Agnew: Thank you for inspiring me, Lindsey, and countless others with your powerful, heated lyrics.

  Father John Ferrone: Thank you for homilies that speak directly to my heart as if “you knew everything I ever did.”

  Reverend Jim Zippay: Thank you for challenging me in my faith. Your “Sacred Sexuality” series helped me soothe old burns with the calming aloe of God’s grace.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I changed my look this morning. I straightened my curls into poker-straight, shiny locks. I like it. It’s sleek. The only problem is, without my curls my headband is too loose and keeps slipping off my head. I had to fix it in the girls’ room between classes. So now I bolt toward English with seconds to spare
.

  As I scurry toward the door, I run smack into Noah Hornung. He’s about twice as tall as me. He’s running his fingers through his dark hair that seems to naturally spike up in a messy kind of way. He probably can’t even see me from up there.

  “Man, I am so sorry, Lindsey,” he says in a rich voice that reminds me of the dark brown suede vest I splurged on last week.

  “No problem.” I crane my neck to look at him. How did he know my name, and has he always been that hot? I mean he’s always been here. Noah goes to youth group with us at my best friend Emma’s church. But so do a ton of other kids. And he always sits with a bunch of guys I hardly know. He lives in my sprawling subdivision, but on the other end. He’s a junior, so even when we were kids and played in the neighborhood, he hung out with kids a year older than me. Noah’s dark green eyes, topped by thick, dark eyebrows, lock with mine. I feel my cheeks turning as pink as my headband.

  Brrriinnngg!

  The class bell, announcing that I am officially late, echoes through the vacant hallways.

  “We’re late,” he laughs.

  “Yeah, see ya.” I cock my head and smile as I duck into my doorway.

  Mrs. Pearson shoots me a dirty look as I try to sneak into my row.

  I slide into my seat. My books softly thud on the desk. I lift my head to see Noah in the doorway winking at me before disappearing down the hall. Lights dance in my head, like flashbulbs of the paparazzi. His eyes are so big and my fingers itch to touch that messy hair. I don’t know much about him, but I feel all tingly and freezing and burning at the same time, like my hand feels when I’ve held my hair dryer for too long. Slow down, I tell myself. This is the first time he’s ever spoken to you.

  I should relax, anyway. Boys and I put together have always been a “Fashion Don’t.” I’ve been asked on plenty of dates, but the boys all seem to want one thing: something physical. Nobody wants to listen to me or talk to me or even watch a movie with me. Sometimes I curse the fact that I’m pretty. I know it doesn’t seem to make sense. I can’t say that out loud to any of my friends. Who would understand?

  I was so gawky when I was younger. I remember wishing I could look like my sister, Kristine, so that boys would notice me. Then, in eighth grade, I had eye surgery and said good-bye to my glasses. The orthodontist removed my braces. Kristine gave me a full makeover before I entered high school so I wouldn’t embarrass her by being her “nerdy little sister.” Now it seems like overnight, I’m not the geeky girl anymore, but I’ve evolved into the pretty girl I dreamed of being. It’s so ironic. Now that I got my wish and people do think I’m pretty, I’m wishing for something else, that boys would be interested in me — what kind of music I listen to and what my thoughts on God are and how I feel about my family — instead of what I look like.

  Tommy Bayer invited me to his house to watch a movie with his family. That seemed innocent enough. But it turned out his family wasn’t even home. So about ten minutes into Shrek the Third, he leaned over and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. When I turned my face away from his, he turned from “Tommy Bayer” into “Tommy Bear” and tried to grab every part of my body he could with his grubby paws.

  To prevent that from happening again, when Warren Adler asked me out, I suggested he come to my house. Wrong! He came over and kept trying to slide his hand in between my legs under the kitchen table. I squeezed my knees together so tight, my thighs ached by the time his mom came to take him home.

  A beautiful boy named Brock invited me to our Christmas dance, the Sugarplum Stomp, last year. Mom bought me this amazing dress with a fitted waist. We had a seamstress take it in to fit perfectly, and it had a skirt that flared out just enough to swoosh while I was dancing. I told my friends I ended it with him because he popped his gum. The truth is, Brock tried to slip his hands into that gorgeous gown anywhere he thought they could fit.

  Maybe I’ve just been interested in the wrong boys. The underclass guys seem unsure of themselves. They get all nervous and fidgety when they talk to me. Most of the upperclassmen seem so full of themselves. They act like they’re doing me a favor if they speak to me.

  Which brings me back to Noah. How did he even know my name? I still can’t figure that out.

  The fifty-minute class takes an eternity. Each second rigidly ticks on the black and white circular clock affixed above the door. I look out the door, half expecting to see Noah winking. I must be going crazy. Clearly, he’s gone to class. I struggle to remain still. I have lots of practice from dance team. We are supposed to be like puppets, completely immobile until we’re brought to life by music.

  Mrs. Pearson lectures about the symbolism of Shakespeare and his description of Queen Mab. I doodle swirly designs on the borders of my spiral-bound notebook with my favorite aqua blue pen. My swirls are like the dreams described in the Shakespeare passage, hard to follow but seemingly purposeful.

  At lunch my right foot nervously taps up and down by my plastic chair as I sit with my plate of French fries and a chocolate shake — about the only two things the cafeteria serves that I trust. I wait for my girlfriends to find their way to our table. The cafeteria smells like the old gum that’s stuck under the tables and the mysterious gravy the cafeteria ladies ladle over suspiciously bright yellow mashed potatoes. I sip thick, frothy chocolate to avoid looking like a loser as I sit by myself and wait. One by one my friends plop their trays on the table.

  “Hey, Linds,” Raven says. Today, her thick, dark hair is coaxed into a sixties flip. With her is Emma, who never lost her baby fat, but has gorgeous fiery hair and the eyes of a cat.

  “Ladies.” Gracie nods. She is the classic beauty. With straight black hair and flawless skin, she’s one of the few girls in school I don’t have an urge to make over.

  With her is Melissa, my partner from dance team, towering over me. “Hi, guys,” she says between crunches of the golden apple she’s holding.

  Emma and I have known each other forever. Melissa and Gracie have been friends since grade school too. Freshman year, Raven moved here from Atlanta, and she plays on the JV soccer team with Gracie. That’s how we all got connected.

  Once they’re settled, I try to sound as casual as possible.

  “So, do any of you know Noah Hornung?”

  “Sure.” Raven nods. “He plays hockey with my brother.” Her eyes are as dark as the black coffee my dad drinks in the mornings, but somewhere in those inky irises, a glint of mischief lurks. She’s on to me.

  “Really?” I lean over. And immediately, I lean back in my seat, adjusting my icy blue sweater with pink-striped cuffs.

  “Somebody has a crush!” Emma sings, her red curls bouncing over her broad shoulders.

  I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows, unable to deny it. “So, what if I do? What do we know about this boy? Is he a total dork?”

  “Drew’s on the JV team, and varsity helps out a lot. Drew says Noah’s really nice and helpful and stuff — not like some of the other macho varsity players,” Gracie pipes in. Her narrow eyes smile like they always do when she talks about her boyfriend, Drew. “You should come to the games with me.”

  “Yeah! Come to the games!” Raven cheers, her bag of Cheetos letting out a whoosh as she opens it. “I always sit with my folks, which is fine, but I’d love y’all to hang out with me. Plus Noah’s super cute.”

  “How’d you meet him?” Melissa asks, munching another bite of apple. She’s the quiet one in our group. In the spring of freshman year, she confided in us that she’s struggling with an eating disorder. I think she’s tentative about piping in sometimes, afraid we’re judging her. We’re not.

  “He’s in youth group,” adds Emma. “But I’ve never seen you talk to him.”

  “Yeah, I thought he was.” I dip a fry in ketchup. “I never had talked to him, until right before English. I know this sounds goofy. We just ran into each other in the hallway today — literally, BOOM — and he knew my name, which was completely surprising, and I felt something.” I
shake my head at myself. “I know it sounds cheesy, but it was like we connected or something.” To stop anything more ridiculous from coming out of my mouth, I pop a fry in, licking the tangy ketchup so it doesn’t drip on my chin.

  I look past my friends and gaze out to the chaos of the lunchroom. A group of guys including Raven’s brother, Randy, is huddled around a broad-shouldered blond intently engrossed in his Nintendo DS. It’s the varsity hockey players. Noah stands in the back, watching his friend defeat electronic enemies, weaving his fingers through his messy hair. He looks up and sees me looking at him. I feel like grasshoppers are jumping inside my body. I drop my eyes and slurp the life out of my milkshake.

  “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage,” Emma sings dramatically in her gorgeous voice.

  I roll my eyes. “Please, God, don’t let him hear Emma,” I say with mock intent.

  Melissa jumps in, “At least those babies have a chance at being tall, Linds.”

  “You might have to marry him for that reason alone,” Raven adds.

  CHAPTER TWO

  You absolutely have to come to hockey on Tuesday!” Gracie squeals. “The JV and varsity teams are scrimmaging each other!”

  We’re all crammed around a small square table in the mall food court, sipping lemonades and noshing on Auntie Anne’s soft pretzels.

  “To a scrimmage?” I raise my perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Who goes to a scrimmage? Think how obvious I’d look sitting in the stands by myself.”

  “Well, Gracie and I will be there.” Raven slurps a piña-coladaflavored smoothie.

  “Really?” I ask, licking the sweet cinnamon and sugar topping from my fingers.

  “Yeah. The guys usually practice at some awful time, like six in the morning. But they actually got a decent ice time, so they’re holding a scrimmage. My folks and I were going to watch Randy, but it would be even more fun if y’all were there.” Raven flashes her ultrawhite teeth. The honey shade of lipstick she’s been wearing really brings out her cocoa coloring.