The Queen B* and the Homecoming King (4 page)

“Excellent. Now, time to tackle some calculus before scanning the web for current events. I want to be ready for whatever
they throw at me.” He threw away his trash and gave me a hug. “Don’t worry about Morgan. I’ll give her a day to remember why she shouldn’t care about him and then set the record straight.”

“Thanks.”

I drove home, surprised to find my mom’s car in the garage. Since she’d started “studying” laser surgery with her new boyfriend, Pete, she rarely came home before eight. Even more shocking was the
fact she was curled up on the couch in a T-shirt and yoga pants without any makeup on. True to her beauty pageant queen roots, she never went anywhere without looking perfect. The woman before me looked tired and pale, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.

I hung at the edge of the room, unsure what to say. “Mom?”

She turned away from the movie she’d been watching. “Hi, Alexis,” she replied,
her voice as exhausted as the bags under her eyes implied.

Most girls would have enough tact to sidestep the issue, but I’d never been known for biting my tongue. “What’s wrong? Did you and Pete break up or something?”

Her brows twitched like they wanted to furrow in confusion, but the Botox kept them from moving. “What makes you say that?”

“Besides the fact you’re home?” I left out the part
where she looked like crap.

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand and hugged a throw pillow. “I stayed home from the office today. I think I picked up a little stomach bug or something.”

My mom was a workaholic dermatologist, so for her to give up a day’s worth of income from ironing out wrinkles and ridding the world of acne, she must’ve really felt sick. “Can I fix you some soup or anything?”

She shook her head. “Pete’s bringing me some. Thank you, though. How was your day?”

I could’ve mentioned my situation with Morgan, but Mom looked worn out enough as it was. No need to burden her with any more of my drama, especially considering how much I’d heaped on her over the weekend. “Fine.”

“That’s nice.” She turned back to her movie, which was my cue that she didn’t want to talk anymore.

I slipped up the stairs, not wanting to be present when Pete came by. The first time I’d met Pete, it was when I’d walked in on him and my mom naked on the couch. The awkward brunch a few days later had confirmed that they were an item, and I’d have to get used to seeing him around more often (preferably with clothes on). He seemed like an okay guy, and he totally appeared to be crushing on
my mom, but I still wasn’t ready to roll out the welcome mat for him. It had been my mom, my sister, and me for years, and the thought of having this new person to deal with made my stomach twitch.

Maybe I was coming down with a stomach bug, too.

But when I got to my room and started on my homework, I kept staring at my phone, wanting to call Morgan back and take care of things myself. I dialed
her number, but it rang twice before going directly to voice mail, a sure sign she’d declined my call.

My voice shook as I said, “Morgan, please, just give me a chance to explain what really happened. I’d hate to lose our friendship over a douchebag like Gavin.”

I hung up, but my nerves were still on edge. I’d done all I could for now, but it still wasn’t enough. So I called the next person
I could talk to.

Brett picked up at the first ring. His voice was upbeat and cheerful, something my morose mood needed. “Hey, Lexi.”

I’d given up on trying to convince him to stop calling me that, and now, it bordered on endearing. “Hey, Brett.”

“Something wrong?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” I heard some muffled sounds in the background, followed by a pause. “Sorry—I was just leaving practice.”

Ugh! I’d forgotten about that. “If it’s a bad time—”

“No, it’s not.”

But if he was still at school, I didn’t need to be whining about my problems with Morgan while the entire team could overhear. “Do you think we could talk when you get home?”

Worry seeped into his voice as he asked, “You’re not changing your mind about—”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to
talk to you.”

“Sure, I guess we could do that, but I need to cram for my physics test tomorrow.”

A new wave of guilt assaulted me. “Then study. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget we’re meeting by the bleachers twenty minutes before school starts. I’ll bring you that latte I promised.”

Leave it to Brett to find a compromise. “How can I refuse?”

“Me or the coffee?”

“Both?” I replied
with a laugh, my spirits lifting.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Chapter Four

A chilly fog blanketed the football field the next morning, and I didn’t see Brett until I was few feet away from him. But he was standing by the bleachers with a steaming cup of coffee and a warm smile. “Good morning.”

I looked up at the sky. “Are you certain it’s morning? I can’t tell if the sun is up there or not.”

He chuckled and leaned into me. “Warning—I’m about to break
rule number two again,” he teased before placing a kiss on my lips.

“Watch it.” But despite my warning, I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his arms around me, and inhaled the scent of the coffee. Vanilla hazelnut—my favorite. “How did practice go yesterday?”

“Well, actually. Sanchez and I watched about three hours’ worth of footage, and we came up with a couple of good crossing routes
that will exploit their weakness at cornerback.”

“In English?”

“We’re going for the bad players on their defense.” He laced his fingers through mine and led me to the bleachers. The cold metal penetrated my jeans, but the heat from Brett’s hand chased away the chill. “So what happened yesterday?”

I filled him in on Morgan’s call and ended with, “I feel awful, but I’m kind of lost on what to
do next. I reached out to her. Richard’s going to try to reason with her, but I’m still scared she’ll never forgive me.”

Brett didn’t say anything at first, but the way he stared off into the fog with his mouth set in a firm line told me he wasn’t ignoring my plight. He was just thinking of the right thing to say. “Can you go over to her house and try talking to her face to face?”

“Maybe, if
I can get past her slamming the door in my face. Besides, she avoids her parents as much as possible. She’s not easy to catch at home.”

He stretched his legs out and released a deep breath. “Then wait and see what Richard can do. Having a third-party mediator is all you need sometimes. Besides, it sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to save your friendship, so that means something.”

“Yeah.” I cuddled closer to him, grateful he was willing to listen to me.

Brett wrapped his arms around me. “Careful, Lexi. If you keep breaking rule number two, I’m going to try to convince you to break rule number three.”

“I’m not going to Homecoming,” I said, my face still pressed against his chest. On a foggy day like today, I wasn’t too worried about people seeing us like this.

“That’s
too bad because I think you’d have a blast.”

I peered up at him, my mouth quirked in a half-smile of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“Me, in a dress, trying to fit in with your friends and biting my tongue all evening?”

“Don’t forget the dancing.” He swayed from side to side and hummed the banana pancake song by one of our favorite singers. “If I remember correctly, you had fun
at that concert with me.”

My skin flushed from the memory. I’d stumbled into him—literally—at a concert a couple of weeks ago and spent the rest of the night in his arms while we danced to the music. Even though we weren’t technically together at the time, it was still the best “not-date” I’d ever been on. Would dancing with him at Homecoming be like that, too?

A distant shout followed by far-off
laughter intruded upon our moment and reminded us that school was about to start. I stepped back, but Brett tightened his hold on me for a second longer.

“Think about it,” he murmured before brushing his lips against mine once more.

I answered with a sigh. As much as I wanted to make him happy, I knew better. He’d want to hang out with his friends, and I didn’t belong there, not after I’d called
out so many of them on my blog. I’d even managed to get three of his friends suspended last week. Awkward silence would be the best outcome of the evening. The worst would be them dissing him for dating me. Hence, why I instituted the rules. They weren’t just to protect me. They were also to protect him.

“See you in fourth period,” I said as we arrived at the front of the school and went our
separate ways.

But when I got to fourth period, Sanchez blocked the doorway with one arm stretched out to keep me from entering the room.

“You’re becoming a major pain in my ass, Alexis,” he said, glaring down at me.

Most people in Eastline would’ve cowered before the six-foot wide receiver, but in spite of his bravado, I was one of the few people he feared. “Want to end up on my blog again
this week?”

His arm sagged, but his face remained a stony mask of hatred. “It’s not over.”

“It never is.” I pushed past him and went to my table in the back of the room, hoping Brett wouldn’t be too far behind. If anyone could keep Sanchez in line, it was Brett. Not that I needed Brett to protect me. It was just nice to let someone bear part of the responsibility of keeping the in-crowd in check.

But Brett never showed up. It was the second time in less than a week that he’d missed fourth period. He wasn’t the type to skip class, and worry churned inside my chest. Where was he?

When the bell rang, I bolted for the door with the hope I might catch him at his locker. I made it halfway there before running into Richard.

“Oh my God, Alexis, I’m starting to have a freak-out moment.”

One
of my best friends needed me, and that took precedence over finding out where my boyfriend was. I pulled Richard out of the stream of traffic in the hallway into a nook between the lockers and a classroom whose door was covered with another
Vote for Summer!
poster.

Geez, was anybody running against her?

I shook the stupid Homecoming Queen elections from my mind and focused on Richard. “What’s
going on?”

“Last night, I tried to prep for today’s tryouts, but I had so much homework, I fell asleep on my laptop.” He rubbed his cheek. “I’m just lucky the pattern of the keys faded before I arrived at school this morning.”

“You’ll be fine,” I said in the same soothing tone my mom used when Taylor freaked out over some fashion faux pas. “Remember how you did yesterday.”

He grabbed my hand.
“Promise me you’ll be there this afternoon.”

Before I could answer, a male voice behind me interrupted us. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? The fag and his fag-hag.”

I turned around to find Sanchez cracking his knuckles and flanked by his two buds who also had gotten suspended after I’d posted pics of them bullying Richard and Ajay last week. My pulse kicked up a notch. They had us cornered,
and judging by the expressions on their faces, they were more than eager to extract their revenge.

I blindly reached for my phone while maintaining eye contact with the ringleader. If I wanted to get out of this without damaging my reputation (or my body), I needed to remind him of the thing he valued above all else. “Sanchez, you and your accomplices are already in hot water for last week. Do
you really want to end up benched this week for the Skylake game?”

“She’s right,” another voice added.

I swallowed my sigh of relief as Brett pushed through the wall of flesh Sanchez and his buddies had erected and moved between us and them. Last week, I’d challenged Brett to step up and keep his teammates in check, and now he’d risen to the occasion.

Brett crossed his arms. “Don’t you think
your time would be better spent prepping for this week’s game?”

“I was just letting her know where she stands.” Sanchez took a step back, but his face remained as threatening as before. “See you in the film room.”

The hard line of Brett’s shoulders didn’t ease until his teammates had disappeared into the crowd. He turned around and looked at me with one brow raised in suspicion. “What triggered
that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but based on what he did in fourth period combined with that, I think it’s safe to say he’s still pissed off about last week.”

Brett muttered a few cusswords under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to him this afternoon. The last thing I need is for him to get benched this week.” He nodded toward Richard. “You okay?”

“I’m fabulous,” he replied, all traces of his earlier distress hidden behind the flamboyant façade he wore at school.

Brett looked stressed out enough without me bringing up Sanchez’s behavior in fourth period. The message was loud and clear. I was on Sanchez’s shit list. But I didn’t care because he was perpetually on mine. “Where were you last period?”