Don't Kiss the Quarterback: Billionaire Academy YA Romance Book 5

by Catelyn Meadows

  She smiled at Dad and he rested his hand on hers near his plate. “And not at a school like Mt. Rainier Legacy Academy,” Dad said, spearing a strand of beans with his fork. “Among the best in the entire nation. Tate, what are your plans after graduation?”

  “Football scholarship,” Tate said.

  The atmosphere went from friendly and open to total lockdown in three point two seconds. We’re talking windows boarded, guards on patrol, no one in or out. The feeling in the room strained with all the tension of a face-off.

  Laurel raised her brows, her jaws moving slowly as she chewed. She stared at a spot on the table before slowly lifting her eyes to meet her son’s.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked him.

  Tate flipped his hair, though it settled right back into his eyes. Glowering at the ribs on his plate, he began picking the meat away from the bones with a vengeance. “The scouts are coming to Homecoming this year, and I plan on getting their attention.”

  “So you intend to play football for a living?” Dad attempted to cloak the derision in his tone.

  “Something wrong with that?” Tate lowered his hands, which were covered in barbeque sauce. His voice was way too confrontational.

  Dad and Laurel exchanged a glance, giving me the impression that Tate’s career path was a common topic of discussion between them. Why did they seem so disappointed by his choice? Unless Dad wanted to hire him out or something, I couldn’t figure it out.

  “You know that’s not the safest decision,” Dad began. “With your...”

  Laurel cleared her throat. “Not here,” she pleaded under her breath, flicking her gaze at me.

  Dad’s gaze traveled to me as well, and my stomach soured. What were they talking about?

  Dad released a breath in unremarkable fashion. “With your attendance at MLA, I’m only saying that you don’t go to a school like Mount Rainier to play football.”

  A pause lingered long enough between them, I got the feeling this was about more than football. What had Dad been about to say before Laurel stopped him?

  Tate broke the silence. “Yeah, my dad says that too. He thinks I’m wasting my potential.”

  “What does your father want you to do?” Laurel asked. She spoke of her ex-husband as though he were a stranger. For all I knew, he was. Did Tate live here or with his dad? Or was he a boarder at the school, like me?

  This whole situation had me on edge, as though I was at a party I hadn’t been invited to. I hated feeling like an outsider in this whole conversation. I should be the one who was close to my dad, not these two.

  “He thinks I should become a doctor like him,” Tate said. “I’m no brain surgeon.”

  “Doctor’s a good way to secure your future,” Dad said. “Good, safe way.”

  Safe? They worried for Tate’s safety? A contact sport like football wasn’t exactly cushy. Players wore pads and helmets, but that sometimes wasn’t enough to prevent serious injury when guys tackled and knocked right into other guys. Yet again, I wondered at the appeal of a sport like that, but clearly people liked it.

  Tate inhaled through his nose. Flipping his hair out of his eyes, he turned his attention to me, granting me a disarming smile. “What about you, Bailey Monroe? What grand future lies ahead of you?”

  “Bailey’s headed for nuclear physicist.” Dad answered for me with pride in his tone and a twinkle in his smile as he chewed. He lifted his glass in my direction. “Isn’t that what those recruiters said?”

  Heat sweltered in my cheeks. I wanted to hide my face in my hands. No, Dad, that’s just what you want me to do. Not even because he cared about me. Dad cared more about how a position like that would sound to his associates. It was all about bragging rights for him.

  “You really are that smart?” Tate sounded impressed.

  “Mt. Rainier offers voice lessons. Speech Level Singing,” I said, shaking my head and deciding to try for honesty. “It’s a revolutionary method. I love to sing.” Voice lessons were the one bright light I’d managed to find in this town since I got here. I couldn’t wait to meet Patricia Granger and get started.

  Dad lowered his fork and pierced me with his intense scrutiny. “Singing? A mind like yours would be wasted on music, Bailey. I’m paying good money for your tuition, for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Make sure you don’t waste it.”

  The meat in my mouth turned to ash. The clock on the mantel ticked, too slowly to be anything but a funeral dirge. The conversation stumbled again into silence, and I stole a look across the table.

  Tate Ingram analyzed me with questions in his hazel eyes. Fair enough—I had plenty of those for him too. Was he going to pursue football even though his dad had different plans for his future? The prospect sounded so much like my situation it wasn’t funny. I never expected him to be here tonight, but more than anything, I never expected to have anything in common with him.

  Maybe we were more alike than I thought.

  WHEN DINNER FINISHED, Dad suggested we convene out on the balcony. I had to admit, the view was spectacular, with a blanketing spread of grass, a full basketball court, a section of finely manicured hedges and flower beds to rival anything found in the movies. Which only made me hate it more.

  He left our family to make his millions. Then billions. And instead of coming back to us, he left us behind to live here with Laurel. I knew I shouldn’t be so petty, vindictive, and childish, but those feelings didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength as my thoughts.

  Laurel sank onto one of the posh, cushioned chairs around a glass-topped table. She held a drink in one hand and smiled prettily at me. “So, Bailey. Voice lessons sound promising. What do you like to sing?”

  I folded my arms across my chest, wishing I could morph into the chair, to seep down the drain, to disappear completely from this conversation. I was sure she was a nice person. She was beautiful and had been kind so far. I shouldn’t hate her this insistently, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled.

  Tate sat on the chair across from mine. He took a drink from his can of Pepsi. “If you say Taylor Swift, I’ll throw you over the balcony.”

  “What’s wrong with Taylor Swift?” I asked. My style was a little more classical, more along the lines of Emmy Rossum or Sarah Brightman, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I adored Taylor Swift’s music, too, and belted at the top of my lungs to whatever song played next. When I was by myself, anyway.

  “We don’t have time for me to list all the reasons,” Tate said with a laugh, slouching into his chair and tipping the Pepsi to his lips.

  “Because she doesn’t throw a football?” I asked.

  “Because she—”

  “Would you care to sing for us, Bailey?” Laurel smiled in an obvious attempt to salvage the conversation. “You couldn’t ask for a more magnificent backdrop.” She swept her glass toward the spread of gardens reaching for the sunset’s orange gleam. She had a point. If I were anywhere else, I’d be stunned by the luxurious view, by the pictorial garden and the fire burning in the sky.

  I hugged my arms tighter around me. “Sorry, I don’t sing in front of people.”

  Dad straightened in his seat. “Bailey,” he chided. “We’re your family.”

  My blood pressure exploded. My teeth ground together, battling down the sense of betrayal attempting to elbow its way out of my mouth. My thoughts shifted, too quickly for me to grasp any of them.

  How dare he? How—? I was ready to storm over to Dad and cite every one of his deficiencies, but all I could do was fix my stare on Laurel’s pedicure peeking through the toes of her shoes.

  Tate released a low whistle. “Pretty sure that’s an over-exaggerated version of what we are,” he said.

  “Your mom and I are married,” Dad said to Tate. To his credit, his tone wasn’t confrontational, but conversational. Could he really be this clueless?

  “Then you’re family,” Tate said. “As for Bailey and me...We’re j
ust caught in the mix, aren’t we?”

  Here was the self-obsessed guy who refused to take time to show me around campus because he would rather be kissing his girlfriend, the guy who hadn’t given me the time of day, actually sounding decent.

  Cheating required two people, and Laurel had been one of those two. Which meant she had as much respect for me and my mom as Tate had earlier today. Why should I share anything with either of them?

  “We’re acquaintances,” I finished, setting my full can of cream soda on the table centered between us on the back patio and standing. “I should probably get back. I haven’t unpacked anything, and I want to get to know the campus before classes start tomorrow.”

  To my surprise, Tate stood and made his way around to stand beside me. The act almost felt like an us-against-them scenario, but if I was going to team up with anyone right now, it would be my phone—alone. Scrolling through pointless memes. Not him. Not them. I couldn’t rely on any of them.

  “Yeah, I’ll head back too,” he said, undoubtedly as ready to beat the awkwardness as I was. “I can give you a ride, if you want.”

  I turned my back to him. “No, thanks. Dad can give me his car.”

  Almost in unison, sharing uneasy glances, Dad and Laurel rose. Laurel hurried to rectify the earlier situation with a timid grin. “Bailey, I’m sorry, I never meant to touch a sensitive topic for you. I never would have pushed you—I know we don’t know each other well yet. I was just...hoping to get to know you.”

  I blinked way too fast. “It’s okay. Thanks for dinner.”

  Dad slid his chair aside and put his arm around Laurel’s shoulders. “We’re hoping to make this a traditional thing. How about Sunday night dinners?”

  Tate muttered something I was pretty sure was a curse word and rubbed his brow.

  I forced a smile. “I don’t know. Thanks again for dinner.” I turned to Tate. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take that ride after all.” Anything to get out of this situation. I didn’t want to be indebted to my dad for anything else right now. This evening had been awful, and Dad wanted a replay?

  Tate’s keys dangled from his finger, and he twirled them a few times. “Thanks for dinner, Mom,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek and shake Dad’s hand. “Mr. Monroe.”

  Dad’s forehead crinkled, a sure sign of internal conflict, but I refused to let his remorse get to me. He couldn’t act like everything was okay. He couldn’t demand I sing for his new wife on the grounds of family. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  “Bye,” I said, balling my hands into fists to keep from jerking Tate away faster.

  Tate and I stopped for our things by the door. We ambled together down the sidewalk, past an impressive water feature amid the exquisite landscape, complete with rock fountain and fish spewing water into several smaller ponds.

  “This is me,” he said, gesturing to a metallic, navy blue Dodge pickup. Of course he drove a truck. The vehicle gleamed in the fading sunlight, beaming with heroism and salvation like Gandalf’s arrival at Helm’s Deep. The sense of help arriving when all seemed to be doomed wasn’t lost on me. Though in no way did I consider Tate my savior, in that moment, he was delivering me from an agonizingly perilous foe.

  I paused at the passenger door, and Tate opened it for me. He was catching me by all kinds of surprise.

  “Thanks,” I said with timidity. I wasn’t sure what just happened in there, but the dynamics between us shifted sometime during that conversation on the back porch. We weren’t family—we weren’t even related. I wasn’t sure what we were, so I stopped trying to put a name to it.

  Tate climbed in and cranked the truck to life. Heavy riffs of both electric guitar and hammering bass blasted. I squeaked and clamped my hands over my ears.

  “Sorry,” he said, hurrying to turn it down. “Holy cow, I’ve never been so glad to leave a place in my life. That was awkward back there.”

  I didn’t know what to say to him. I’d barely known what to talk to Chravis about, and he was my boyfriend. I was never good at conversation, evidenced by my first meeting with Tate outside the gazebo. I could probably have handled the situation differently, and it would have gone better. Then again, so could he.

  “Yeah,” I said, tucking my feet on his seat and hugging my knees. Tate slowed through Dad’s security guard station and the gate, and then he sped off so fast, I hugged tighter.

  “Not Taylor Swift,” he said, musing aloud. “It’s got to be Lady Gaga.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re a fanatic singer, is that why you wouldn’t sing for my mom?”

  I tucked my chin between my knees. “Nope.”

  Tate glanced in my direction. I hoped he wasn’t bothered by me putting my feet on his leather seats. If he was, he didn’t say anything. “You going to tell me?”

  “Probably not. Besides, does it really matter?”

  “We have twenty minutes until we get back to Billionaire Academy. Might as well talk about something.”

  I relaxed a little. “Billionaire Academy? Is that what you call it?”

  “All our parents are loaded in one way or another.” He reached to adjust the air controls. “The name has been around forever.”

  “So you’ve gone to...Billionaire Academy for a while?”

  He slowed to approach the freeway’s onramp. “I went to elementary school with a lot of the kids already there. Where are you transferring from?”

  “Idaho,” I said.

  “Cool. Potatoes.”

  “That’s the thing. People think I’m weird, but I don’t like them.”

  “You don’t like potatoes?” He released a laugh, flipping his hair as he glanced at me. The act made him appealing, giving him a carefree air that I both admired and envied.

  I loosened up a little more, allowing my feet to return to the floor. “Not really. They’re too starchy. I can do mashed. But baked?”

  “No french fries? Come on, Bailey, how can you not like french fries? McDonald’s has the best french fries.”

  I smiled. “In N Out Burger’s are better.”

  “If you’re going to say you don’t like McDonalds...”

  “Sure I do.” I was only American. “I’m just saying In N Out Burger has better fries.”

  He chuckled again and changed lanes. “So you can sing, and you want to pursue singing, but you don’t sing in front of other people.”

  “That’s about right.” I knew how stupid it sounded. The only other people I’d ever sung around had been Camryn and my family. Dad plus Mom, before they’d divorced.

  “Pick a song,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  He reached for the radio again. “I’ll blast it nice and loud. That way you can sing, and I’ll sing too, and you won’t feel so weird.”

  In spite of myself, a smile crept its way onto my lips. “I’m not singing for you.”

  “No? I gotta say, I want to hear you more than ever now. Come on, who do you like?”

  “If I said Taylor Swift, would you play her music?” I straightened on the leather seat.

  Tate muttered another curse word. “Not happening.”

  I folded my arms and stared off, feigning disinterest. “Too bad. Guess you won’t hear me sing.”

  “I’d pay money to hear you sing.”

  I turned to find that delicious smirk curving the corner of his mouth. That expression, his voice and proximity, made my body hyperaware of his. His toned, tanned arms, the way his hand gripped the steering wheel, the curve of his jaw and line of his hair against his forehead. Something fluttered in my stomach, but I pushed it away.

  The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn. It almost felt like he was flirting with me, but that couldn’t be possible. I decided to remind him about the girl he’d been kissing earlier. “Oh yeah? What about your girlfriend, does she sing?”

  “Oh, Charly? She can change a tire better than she can squawk out a note.”

  “I’m assuming that�
�s who you were...with...earlier today.”

  He scraped a hand behind his neck and inclined his head toward me. The exit to Legacy Lake appeared, featuring the school name on it as well. He signaled and slowed, pulling behind a few other cars to take it.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I could have made a better first impression.”

  I swallowed. “I could have too.”

  Silence filled the cab, and then MLA campus came into view. With the abundance of trees, the buildings’ Georgian style more evocative of a country house than a school, its charm plucked away several of the bitter leaves that had sprouted within me earlier. Tate pulled around to the dorms’ parking lot.

  “So I guess I’ll see you around,” he said.

  “Yeah, thanks for the ride.” I was grateful he didn’t open my door to exit. I slipped out, waited to walk up to the school with him again, but too late, Tate was already swaggering toward the school, phone in his hand.

  I sighed. At least I hadn’t given in and sung with him. Singing was something reserved only for those who deserved it, and clearly, he didn’t. I needed to get my thoughts in gear anyway. School started tomorrow. I hadn’t figured out where my classes were, or the bistro, and those things might be kind of important.

  I needed to keep my view clear of boys and on my classes where it should be.

  Chapter Four

  Waking up in a bed other than my own was weird. My room was completely devoid of any personal touches. I hadn’t taken the time to unpack much last night. I spent the majority of the night video chatting with Camryn and relaying the torturous evening at my dad’s house.

  “He definitely doesn’t know you well if he thought you’d just sing in front of everyone,” Cam said.

  “Right?” We chatted about the old gas station she worked at, about her little brother, and about her brother recently returned from active duty in Afghanistan and how he was secretly dating a woman who worked for their mom. Mostly, Camryn talked about her boyfriend, Beckham, and I didn’t interrupt her.

  I pried myself out of bed, ambled down the ladder, and pulled out the arrangement of similar uniform pieces. This morning, I went with the navy slacks instead of the pleated skirt. Long-sleeved, button-up shirt? Check. Tie? Check. Sweater vest with the school logo came last.