The Boyfriend Launcher

by RaeChell Garrett

Genres: YA Contemporary Romance; YA Family

Synopsis

To find the right guy, Dru Eason will have to date the wrong one in this sweet teen rom-com perfect for fans of Lynn Painter and Kasie West.

When soccer star Dru Eason’s longtime crush Kai finally asks her out, she can’t say no. She also can’t say yes. Not when she knows things with him will end just as they have with all of her exes. They’ll date, break up, and in a matter of days he’ll become someone else’s perfect boyfriend. 
 
Because Dru is The Boyfriend Launcher.
 
To buy time to figure out why this keeps happening, Dru negotiates a no-dating pact with her team for the duration of the playoffs—twenty-four days. Then she asks Winston Portis, one of her best friends, to secretly fake-date her. Maybe after some feedback on what it’s like being her boyfriend, she can take her chance with Kai and keep him far away from the launchpad.
 
But is twenty-four days enough time to uncover her issues? Or is it just long enough for Dru to wonder: Has she been overlooking the perfect boy, or is she just launching Winston for the next girl? And is she finally brave enough to take a shot at finding out?

For Fans Of:

• Fake dating
• Friends to lovers 
• Sports Romance
• Romantic Comedies 

Release date: February 24, 2026

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 368

Sample

In my car, I Febreze my practice shorts and tank top with a heavy hand.

Satisfied I won’t offend anyone, I pop out of the car. The gust of wind that whips up my shorts and clings to my still-damp sweat chills me to the bone. It’s spring in name only.

Shivering, I trot up the driveway to the garage and knock on the door that leads to the house. Nobody answers. Loud laughter I recognize comes from the other side, telling me someone’s home. Not to mention, I’m expected—pretty aggressively if I go by the voicemails. I knock harder. Still nothing. I send a text.

Dru: How are you going to explain me freezing to death in your garage???

About ten seconds later, Winston Portis flings the door open in a way that tells me he slid into it on his socked feet. Winston and I, along with his fraternal twin, Jake, met in the womb at a mom support group. Now he’s my soon-to-be sort-of brother-in-law with an emphasis on brother. Moriah, the younger of my two older sisters, is engaged to the eldest of the three Portis boys.

Winston’s hand shoots up to stop the door from slamming into the wall behind it. Two red rubber bracelets with messages in languages I bet even he doesn’t recognize tumble into place on his wrist. “I thought you were going to be late.”

I slip past his tall, lanky frame and inside to warmth. “You said your career was done if you didn’t go live on time tonight. It sounded like you might cry.”

He smiles, ever-present dimples deepening. “That worked?”

I press my lips together and raise an eyebrow. “The last time I saw you cry, when I accidentally destroyed your village in Minecraft, I ended up on punishment for staying up all night trying to rebuild it for you. You knew the sound of tears in your voice would work. But it won’t again.”

Especially when I’m starting to feel like the need to do this interview today has less to do with timing and more to do with his taper fade looking super crisp and his twists perfectly shiny.

“Accidentally?” He crosses his arms high up on his chest and looks down at me. “Your memory is strong in that villain POV.”

I put both hands up, pleading my innocence. “How long are you going to blame me for that?”

He puts a hand over his heart and gives me sad eyes. “Until the pain ends.”

I smack my lips at his dramatics.

He laughs, but it fades quickly as he sniffs the air suspiciously. “How many times do I have to tell you, your funk is too potent for Febreze.”

“I didn’t have time to go home. Remember. The crying.” I pull my small knotless braids from their thrice-wrapped bun on top of my head and sigh from the relief. “I need a face towel, moisturizer, and does anybody here use edge control?”

He nods, but instead of going to get what I need, he leads me to his kitchen. He takes an apple and a jar of peanut butter out of the refrigerator, and a slicer out of the pantry.

My mouth waters. “Please say that’s for me. I’m so hungry.”

“Figured you would be.” He holds the apple under the faucet and wipes it dry. Then he gets a bowl and spoon for the peanut butter. “Is Meegan still tripping?”

Meegan is a two-time all-state senior striker on my high school soccer team. We’re co-captains. It’s her last year, so she’s been really focused all season. But these last few days, she’s been a monster. Her intensity has been playoff level not just at practice but even in our group chats.

I do get it. I’m only a junior and still everything feels like a chance I won’t get again. It makes sense that she wants to see everyone giving as much as she is on the field every game. That’s why I try to back Meegan up when I can. Even when more and more of my teammates seem to want her to take it down some.

While Winston slices the apple, I spoon three heaps of peanut butter into the bowl. The apple isn’t that big, but I’ve been known to eat peanut butter like it’s ice cream. “It wasn’t Meegan this time. It was Coach. He said an undefeated season is just an undefeated season. If we plan to win a championship, we all need to look ourselves in the mirror and ask if we’re giving all we have to the team.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Just regular coach motivational stuff, then?”

“I guess,” I say around a big chunk of apple. “But his eyes are always on me when he says stuff like that. Like if we don’t do what everyone expects us to, it’s going to be on me.”

He tilts his head. “I’m sure he’s looking at the whole team. Everybody knows how hard you work.”

I get what he’s saying, but there are holes in my game. I can admit that.

The doorbell rings, and Winston turns toward the front of the house, where real guests come in instead of through the garage like me.

I’m smacking on a slice of apple that I didn’t bother to bite in half, covered with the biggest smear of peanut butter, when I hear HIM and Winston greet each other. I freeze when I should actually keep chewing, because by the time Kai Waller’s standing on the threshold to the kitchen my mouth is still too full to close.

His tight, spiral curls bounce as he steps into the kitchen. I stiffen, and the urge to run in the opposite direction is strong. Winston has already told me the air freshener is doing no good, and I must look like some type of animal with all this food in my mouth.

But Kai doesn’t laugh, raise an eyebrow, or lean away from the potential of my stench. He tilts his head and smiles as he gives me this slow-motion finger flutter of a wave that makes me question whether he invented the gesture.

Somehow, I end up attempting the same thing, but I know it’s not having the same effect. There’s no way I look flirty or cute like he did. I try to play it off as a self-soothing rub along the back of my neck.

I want to tell him the royal-blue sweatshirt he’s wearing makes his bark-colored skin glow, and he should wear it every single day all the time. Instead, all I can do is put a hand over my mouth and chew enough to get out, “You’re here?”

He smiles then, and I know I’ve said those two words as if his presence is the best thing that has happened to me in my whole life. “I am.”

Winston narrows his eyes at me. “Of course he’s here. I wouldn’t be able to kick off the series if I didn’t have you both.”

Still a bit speechless, I turn and shoot Winston a look. At the same time, I catch another whiff of myself. This is really bad.

This isn’t school, when Kai walks me to class or when he sends me soccer articles or pops up in my notifications when he openly stalks my social media. I’m prepared for all those things. My hair is right. My breath is nice. I’ve used my time in my car on the way to school wisely by coming up with conversation starters.

On this evening, I am wholly unready to receive the boy I like but absolutely will not have.

“I thought I told you. I want to interview the best female and male athlete in each sport in the area.” When I still don’t move, Winston brushes by me and starts cleaning up. “And for soccer, that’s you two, of course.”

Like me, Kai plays center mid. And, for lack of a better way of putting it, he’s a superstar. He’s taken a different route to his dreams than I have. He plays academy soccer all year round with the same club as me instead of bothering with high school for half the year like I do. He plays all around the country with the upper echelon of players in front of a lot more college coaches on a regular basis. But for a few months, I get to play in my backyard, with girls I sit next to in class, in front of people who love me.

I admit, it’s a really big trade-off, but when there’s a crowd to celebrate when I make a great pass, I don’t regret anything.

I heard he got invited to play for a professional academy team on the East Coast. I haven’t confirmed it for fear of looking like the fan that I am. But I believe it.

I may or may not have watched some or all his games on our club’s site. He’s that good.

I fold what’s left of my apple slices into a paper towel and put them in the refrigerator. I should be saying something. Something… smart? Flirty? Inspirational? “Oh. You’re interviewing the best male and female athlete in each sport, and for soccer that’s me and Kai.”

Okay, so, parroting Winston doesn’t fall into any of the categories I was considering, but it’s out there now and I feel like a complete clown. If I could ask for a do-over, I would.

Kai just keeps smiling like my inability to form an original thought doesn’t faze him. “Do you think he should’ve picked someone other than me?”

I blink and shake my head hard enough that if my braids were still up they would’ve started falling out of the bun all on their own. “Who? You’re definitely the best.”

I duck my head so fast I can’t see his response. My first guess is secondhand embarrassment. Obviously, he was just messing with me, and here I am professing my admiration like a rabid groupie.

But I don’t need to see him to feel the certainty of his words. “You’re definitely the best too.”

“Huh?… I don’t… No… You mean…” I shake my head and huff out a breath. “I think… See… I always…” I look up at him through my lashes. He’s staring down at me like he’s actually curious about what I have to say. There seem to be fewer choices for responses than there were seconds ago.

I bite my bottom lip. “Thank you. Kai.”

“Now that we all understand each other,” Winston pipes up, sounding like a teacher getting control of a class that has gone rogue, “it’ll be a minute on your demands, Dru. I’ll be right back.”

Determined not to be left alone with Kai, I awkwardly wave at him and head to the bathroom, where I silent scream and chastise my reflection. I am maybe, potentially, unwell. I need to regroup.

While I wait for the tools that will help make me look mildly presentable, I message my best friend, Aubrey.

Dru: HE’s at Winston’s.

She’s at an SAT study session so I’m not expecting a response right away. It just feels good to let somebody in on my anxiety. But seeing my situation as the emergency it is, she responds right away.

Aubrey: Whoa. Out of context Kai? Did you survive or are you contacting me from the afterlife?

Dru: No and I believe so.

Aubrey: Don’t let your demise be meaningless. Talk to him. Find out whether he’s actually on you or not.

In any other circumstance I would agree with Aubrey, and at least attempt to follow her advice. But I already know the answer to the question. Kai is interested in me. It’s obvious in the small things. Like the way he waved when he came in.

Kai’s not the problem. It’s me. And if Aubrey had analyzed my love life to its pulp the way I have, my faults would be obvious to her too. I can’t set me or Kai up for what I know will happen if we act on feelings. I will ruin it. I always do somehow.

When Winston comes back with everything I asked for plus some lip balm I take as a hint, I set my phone on the counter. The notifications keep coming as if Aubrey can figure out my life without me.

After I finish freshening up, I tiptoe out of the bathroom, peeking around corners trying not to be surprised by a person I already know is here. The coast clear, I head to the basement where Winston and I graduated from having tummy time to conducting lengthy foosball tournaments while our moms talked.

The space he uses to record his shows is a repurposed closet in the back of the basement. By the time I get there he has everything set up, with me and Kai seated across from him and two cameras. Winston’s standing next to his chair wearing a forced smile while Kai talks.

“Did you just happen to have clothes for a pig cadaver lying around or did you go buy them?” Kai raises his eyebrows. “How premeditated was this?”

Kai’s asking about freshman year, when Winston dressed a pig cadaver during biology. Before any teachers caught on, people were having photo shoots with it. School administration did not appreciate his creative expression.

Maybe it’s because no one in our junior class has topped his ingenuity yet, but this… incident still gets brought up all the time. Unlike half the people who shake their heads at Winston’s delinquency, Kai is fascinated, curious, and genuinely interested in what was going through Winston’s head back then. Which is fair. I was curious too.

But I don’t think the answer he gave me with a shrug back then—“I felt like it”—is the answer he’d give now. I’d ask the same questions myself if not for the look on his face every time it’s brought up.

Only I, and maybe his twin, would know Winston’s super embarrassed. His smile is probably the most easy and open thing about him. If his smile is off, there’s a problem.

“I’m ready,” I screech, and practically dive into the room. I sound a little overexcited, but I’ve done what I meant to do. The conversation about Winston’s infamous past is over and his smile looks real again.

Winston makes a show of pulling out my chair for me and patting its back. After that, I try to keep my eyes on him. It’s difficult when he asks questions that force me to interact with Kai. Then I look at Kai. He focuses on my words in a way that convinces me my points are so interesting that I should keep going and going. Eventually I feel like I’m rambling, and I just let myself trail off until he or Winston rescues me.

In the past, this kind of attention from a guy I’ve liked for months would be all I’d need to give myself permission to flirt a little. But mostly I just want his eyelashes to stop being super long and him to stop agreeing with me about being prouder of assists than goals and encouraging me with nods. What girl doesn’t like this treatment?

After thirty minutes, Winston wraps us up with a joke that makes me laugh so hard I snort. Sometimes when I’m watching him, I just know he’s doing the thing he’s supposed to be doing. A national sports show with his name on it will be a thing someday.

Kai stands, head up, shoulders back in a posture that I know intimidates the competition on a regular basis. Honestly, it intimidates me. “That was fun. I didn’t talk too much, did I?”

Winston and I stand too. He’s all bones, but he towers over both of us. Not because we’re short, but because he’s unnecessarily tall. “Nah, you were good. You sounded like a guy who knows his stuff about the thing he loves.”

Winston’s eyes shift to me then, and he gives me a quizzical look as if to say you on the other hand were the exact opposite. I give him the same look right back. Neither of us backs down for a full five seconds.

Kai clears his throat, and finally Winston nods toward the door, signaling the end of the night. Kai motions for me to lead what I assume is all three of us out of the studio. But once we’re in the main living area, the energy suddenly feels a little less populated. I stop in my tracks and turn around. Winston is nowhere to be found.

Kai looks back toward the closet studio. “You forget something?”

“Um…” I avoid his eyes altogether and look at the carpeted floor. “I was just looking for Winston.”

Kai delivers an “Oh” that suggests either my words came out wrong or he took them wrong.

I consider letting him think whatever he’s thinking about me and Winston, but I don’t want him to think I’m into somebody else, no matter how helpful that might be in making sure whatever this is never escalates. “Winston’s kind of my brother-in-law. My sister and his brother are getting married in a few months.”

I say that part about being my brother-in-law to draw Winston out of wherever he’s hiding so he can turn this duo back into a trio. But for some unknown reason his persistent need to correct my understanding of familial relations is noticeably absent.

“Oh,” Kai says again, but this time there’s an entirely different spin on it. I don’t want to call it relief but that’s what it sounds like. “Makes sense why you guys seem close.”

It is the wedding, but also kind of just me and Winston. Even as we got older, started making our own friends outside our families, and didn’t have to go everywhere with our parents, we never drifted from each other. If my parents said they were doing something with the Portises, I was there and vice versa. And I know it could have turned out different. Jake has been here the whole time too, but I have no clue how he feels about condiments. Winston hates them all.

“Okay, well…” Kai’s pause has weight. I can’t help but focus on him. The eye contact is searing, which is crazy considering his eyes are hooded enough that you can barely see the whites when he smiles. “I just wanted to ask when we’re going to see each other outside of school.”

Every part of me goes hot. Not like when I’m on the field. This heat is coming from the inside out. I lace my fingers behind my back and fill my mouth with air. There’s this part of me fighting to say I’m free on Friday. But the other part of me that knows this won’t end well is keeping a steady hand clamped over my mouth.

“Um…” I look over my shoulder toward Winston’s studio, but there’s no rescue coming. What I need to say is I’m not dating. That’s not a lie. I’m not dating, but if he’s an option, I’d like to be. I’d like to not be afraid of my own history. But I can’t tell him any of this. Especially not without the words being the end of any possibility between us.

What I need is just a little bit of time to figure out how not to make all my normal relationship mistakes… whatever they are.

“Our team made a pact for playoffs. No dating.” The lie slips out before I realize I’ll need to get the whole team to agree to it. That could be impossible. But with a pact making so much sense, it all comes together without me having to think too hard. “We have a real chance at a championship. We all just want to stay sharp.”

He tilts his head back and admiration fills his face. “That’s cool. The most any team I’ve ever been on can agree to is not shaving or not getting a haircut. Anything that might make them uncomfortable, somebody’s saying no. And if they do agree to anything, they don’t actually stick to it.” He nods approvingly. “But you are?”

I swing my hands from behind my back twice before I register the tell my sisters called out when I was little. They discovered it after finding clues that I had been in their room or touching their things without permission. Feeling caught, I cross my arms securely over my chest. “Yep. I am. No dating. Just soccer.”

“I would do the same.” He tilts his head to one side. “Just to be clear. You do want to hang out? I haven’t been building something up in my head that’s not—”

I shake my head to stop him, the part of me that just wants to like him winning out for long enough to finish what it’s started. “I do want to hang out. Yes. After seven games… or twenty-four days.”

I hold back from giving him the to-the-second countdown found on our team page. That might sound a little desperate.

He smiles. “Twenty-four days?”

I nod and try to suppress a smile, but it just won’t be contained. Neither will his. On his way up the stairs, I lose count of how many times he turns around to see if I’m still watching. I am. At one point, we both laugh a little. I’m the first one to look away, but only for a second.

But when he’s gone and I’m out of the haze of being alone with him, all the potential endings to this situation start to populate my mind. The most logical one is the loudest.

Twenty-four days could be an undershot for how long it will take to figure out what happens after I make a boyfriend an ex. As it is now, I’ll go out with Kai, we’ll end as quickly as we start, and before I can even digest it, he’ll be off being the best boyfriend to some other girl, as if dating me was the prerequisite to his success. Because I am the indisputable, wildly successful boyfriend launcher.

I stomp back into the studio and find Winston chilling in his cushy host chair with his feet pulled up so he can use the table to propel himself into a spin.

I point sharply at him. “What are you doing? You just left me alone with him to do nothing?”

He grabs the table and stops his rotation. “He asked if I could give you guys some alone time. All those hearts dancing in your eyes when he came in made it hard for me to say no.”

HE asked to be alone with me? Heat pushes up my chest, but keeping a straight face with Winston is way easier than it is with Kai.

Winston makes a clicking noise with his cheek and back teeth. “Yep, that’s the look.”

Well, keeping a straight face with Winston is easy unless I’m talking about Kai, apparently.

I focus on my phone. I’m not just going to stand here and let him analyze my face. “There’s no look.”

He chuckles. “And during the interview, you didn’t stumble over your words or sound like you aren’t really sure how to play soccer either.” He spins in the chair again. “Kai had no effect on you.”

I decide not to respond. I know Winston. He’ll patiently wait until I say too much because he’s good at that.

“Can I borrow some jogging pants? You know how long it takes for my car to warm up.”

He raises both eyebrows at the obvious subject change. But, in true friend fashion, he also goes with it. “You’ll trip on the stairs.”

“I’ll roll the waistband.”

He starts pulling his pants down. I shriek and squeeze my eyes shut. We’re close, but there are boundaries.

“I have on shorts underneath. Settle down.” He chuckles as he tosses the pants. They land on my head. “Before you complain, they’re cleaner than you.”

They don’t smell fresh out of the dryer, but they don’t stink either. I pull them on. “I’ll bring them back to you tomorrow.”

Even after rolling them at the waist, I have to gather the crotch of the pants in one fist. The potential danger of this doesn’t stop me from taking the steps two at a time on my way back upstairs.

Jake sits at the table in the eat-in kitchen with his laptop popped open. He glances up, eyes more mysterious than curious and sparkling like Winston’s.

Immediately, I cover my mouth and whisper behind my hand. “Oh my God. Are you writing? Am I interrupting your genius flow or something? Should I be quiet?”

Jake, the blatantly overachieving twin, has an actual book coming out. Like to be sold in stores. It’s going to be more than a year before anybody can hold the book in their hands, but the streets have gone crazy for his story of how AI has taken over. It even has a love triangle.

He shakes his head and runs his hands over his deep waves. “I was just watching the show.”

Winston slips past me, gets the snack I didn’t finish earlier out of the fridge, and hands it to me. I thank him like he’s just saved my life. And he might have. With no Kai to keep my adrenaline up, I’m starving again. The slices are a little brown now, but I don’t care. I bite one in half.

Jake waits for me to finish chewing before he asks, “Why’d you lie about that pact? You seemed pretty into him in the interview.”

I slap my palm to my forehead. Okay. They’ve both said it now. I have to face the fact that I looked starry-eyed toward HIM on camera. “You were listening?”

He runs two fingers along the trackpad of his laptop. “No, I just overheard. The basement is the worst place to have a private conversation in this house.”

“Wait.” Winston jerks his head back, surprise in his eyes. “You lied to him about that?”

Trapped, I look from Winston to Jake.

They look like more than brothers and less than twins. They have the same clear chestnut-brown skin, perfect rainbow-arched eyebrows, and round nose. But Winston has teardrop-shaped eyes, dimples that leave indentations no matter what his face is doing, a smile made for the camera he aims to be in front of, and way more hair. But because people love to compare two like things, Jake has been called the better-looking one for as long as I’ve known them.

In my opinion, Winston’s looks are taken lightly because he’s not soft-spoken like his brother. His personality doesn’t leave room for the viewer to focus on his features, nor is he trying to win anybody over with his face. Winston’s winning you over with himself, without trying. And this isn’t a best-friend rose-colored glasses thing. These are the things girls say around me, hoping it gets back to him. I always make sure it gets back to him, but it’s never turned into anything on his part.

The space between Jake’s brows crinkles. “I just assumed you made it up, because girls on your team are in actual relationships… which would make that a lie with a lot of holes.”

I frown.. . .