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

by Catelyn Meadows

  Sunlight gleamed against the dorm windows behind me, making them appear like solar panels. I wouldn’t be surprised if a school like this was equipped to process solar energy into electricity.

  Laughter caught my attention. Carson strolled along the sidewalk with a blonde girl I recognized from choir. I think her name was Debi.

  An empty pang pricked my chest, making me wish I was on the receiving end of those smiles and flashing eyes. Boy, did he have a great smile. Whitened teeth captured by a perfect crescent mouth. His blonde hair swept across his forehead, flinging its natural highlights into the autumn sunlight.

  I’d never been one for cliché terms like dreamy, but that’s exactly what he was. Gorgeous package from head to broad shoulders to muscular arms and well-fitted uniform wonder. Something told me Carson would look good in an Amish paper sack.

  Was he really worth making a deal with Tate over? Jenn had said I’d never stand a chance, but maybe Tate’s argument held some ground. Maybe Carson wasn’t that superficial after all and would notice me if I was with another member of the team.

  I found Tate in the hall outside the bistro the next morning. The fact that he ate there as well told me he also lived on campus, since only kids who occupied the dorms had access to the breakfast and dinner bistro. Many students lived along the lake, but he wasn’t one of those either. I wondered if he lived with his mom—and my dad—when school wasn’t in session. I’d have to ask.

  My stomach growled at the smell of smoked ham and potatoes, and whatever else was being served. I had to say, the idea of an open food court was completely appealing. Eating whenever I wanted within a certain time period, with a chef on hand? I’d never eaten anywhere this posh before.

  Heart in my throat, I approached Tate. His back was to me. I considered touching him to get his attention, but something told me I’d never recover from the burns.

  “I’ll do it,” I told his shoulder.

  He rotated to face me, and I became an analyst in that moment. Only, in place of particles and elements, I noted the line of his eyebrows and cheekbones, the crinkle of his upper lip as it fought back a conceited smirk. I noted the line of his shoulders and shape of his muscular torso—was that a requirement for all football players or just the good-looking ones?—the angle at which his hair scooped into his eyes and the ratio of swagger to his step.

  To my surprise, I had to take a steadying breath before I could continue. Nerves, probably. It was not because I found him attractive. “What does dating you entail?”

  His cocky smile came into full being, causing a little ping in the center of my stomach. He shifted his weight and inched in closer. Heat shot through my system, making me flush. He had way too much of an effect over me. I attempted to back away, putting some space for my thoughts to return to where they belonged, but my back was to the cinderblocks. I was trapped in his direct gaze, and it didn’t help when he rested a hand on the wall to my side.

  “We can start small. Word spreads fast around here, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want it getting to the parents.”

  Valid point. My heart galloped like a runaway horse. Seriously, why did he have to make my internal system go haywire? It was as though he’d shocked my system with electric currents. “No, we don’t,” I said, too breathily. “I like to keep my dad out of my life as much as possible.”

  He tugged his bottom lip with his teeth and allowed his gaze to roam over me before his eyes returned to mine. “Yeah, I got that vibe. Steve’s a nice guy, but I don’t need to be on his radar any more than I already am.”

  “I noticed he gave you a hard time at dinner,” I said.

  Tate peered over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  I had more questions, but before I could voice any of them, Jenn passed, darting between us with a tray in hand. “Bailey! There you are! Sorry,” she told Tate quickly before turning to me. “I just had to tell you. I talked to Coach Derek. You’re singing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ at the home game tonight!”

  My mouth dropped, jarring me from the intensity of my conversation with Tate. “I’m what?” A mixture of emotions flurried through me. Singing our national anthem. In front of an entire crowd. This was really happening.

  “I can’t wait to hear it. I just wanted to tell you. See you later!” Jenn dashed off.

  “More singing?” Tate folded his arms in her absence and raised his brows at me. His question held way too much teasing. Sure enough, he was fighting a smile.

  “I’m definitely eating my words,” I said, staring off in wonder. I couldn’t believe this. Not only did it feel like I had friends, but I was going to be singing in front of the entire school?

  Tate cleared his throat. His fingertips grazed mine, making my pulse skitter. “So. Since you’re coming to the game, the guys are having a bonfire tonight,” he said. “A lot of them are bringing girls. You should come.”

  “Come?”

  “With me.”

  I said I would do this...Just not so instantly. First singing, now a date? I exhaled through a small part in my lips. “Where?”

  “It’ll be past curfew, but I can sneak by and pick you up at your dorm.”

  Past curfew. What was I thinking? Bonfires were one thing, but breaking rules? Mrs. Partridge had mentioned valedictorian. I didn’t care about that as much as keeping my record clean. I wanted to maintain a good reputation with the staff. “I don’t know, Tate. That sounds risky.”

  “Come on, we do this every year. The school always turns a blind eye—it won’t be a big deal. The seniors were always in charge of it, and now it’s kind of a big deal for me, especially since I’m the quarterback. Besides, Carson will be there too.”

  Carson. He was starting to seem like more trouble than he was worth. I glanced around the bistro at the kids whose names I was starting to learn. Jovi, a girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a nose ring—and the girl whose brother Jenn and I had been gaping at in the parking lot—sat near the window. Another girl with her brown hair cropped short on one side and longer on the other sat across from her.

  “You could ask any girl in here and they’d say yes in a heartbeat,” I said. “Why do you want me to come?”

  “Because I want you to sing to me again.” He winked and the softest touch absently brushed along my fingertips again before his hand slid into mine. The sensation of his skin with mine made my breath hitch. “Ten o’clock, Bailey Monroe. After the game. I’ll text you.”

  And with that, he walked off, taking my mental capacities with him. I stood in a complete daze. Too late, my thoughts resettled. The game was tonight. That meant I needed to practice.

  Before I could do anything, though, a group of freshman girls surrounded me. “Bailey, right?” one girl with dark hair and shirt untucked from her pleated skirt asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool. I’m Lane and this is Veronica.” She pointed to the girl with blonde curls beside her. She had a sweet face with a pleasant smile and bright eyes. “We saw you talking to Tate. He’s so hot.”

  I was at a complete loss. What was I supposed to say to that? “I...yes?” What were they trying to get at?

  “How do you do it?” Veronica asked, tugging her backpack in front of her. She pouted her lip like a child begging for sweets.

  “Do what?”

  “Talk to boys like that?” Lane said with a little whine in her voice. “Tell us your secrets.”

  I blinked. These girls were asking me for advice about boys? If they had any clue about my dating history, they would definitely take their search elsewhere.

  I tucked a hair behind my ear. “I—I don’t know.” I thought through their question. In my extremely limited experience, only one thing jumped to my mind. “Just be yourself.” That was all I did. Even with Chravis, but especially with Tate. I was true to myself and did what I loved to get his attention.

  The girls’ mouths dropped into wide, admiring smiles. “Just be yourself?”

  “Sure. T
hat’s all I did. I’m good at singing, so I went with that.”

  Lane gave another little whine. “Your video on Instagram was so amazing. I’d give anything to sing like that.”

  I decided not to point out the fact that it wasn’t my Instagram at all, but someone else’s who’d had their phones out faster than a shot when I started to sing. “There’s something about you that’s amazing,” I told them. “Find out what it is and be true to yourself. The boys will come around.”

  Grins ensued. These girls bobbed on their toes, squealing and thanking me for my advice. “Be yourself. Wow, you are such a genius.” They skipped off, heads ducked together.

  I winced, not sure what I’d just said. I wasn’t exactly a great model for them to follow. They only admired me because I got kissed by the quarterback. Would they have cared this much about me if I got valedictorian or some other academic achievement?

  That was part of myself too. I shook it off. I had a song to prepare for. On the way to the practice rooms, I whipped out my phone and shot a text to Camryn to fill her in.

  You’re going to a football game...by choice? Cam asked in reply.

  I laughed, feeling instantly lighter. I nearly hugged my phone. Man, I missed my friend so hard. Yeah, I know how you feel about those.

  Is your roommate going? Cam asked.

  Don’t have one.

  Teacher offering extra credit?

  Don’t need it, I replied.

  ... Do you need your head checked?

  I exhaled and meandered to the practice hall. Faint traces of music filtered through the brick walls. Piano etudes climbing their jagged ladders, distinctive strains of a violin bow straining across the strings, even someone else singing. The soprano voice climbed higher, ascending and descending before spearing upwards to what I guessed was a high C. Impressive.

  My phone buzzed with another text from Camryn. I could tell her about singing the national anthem, but something needed to be said first. Pausing in the corner of the hall, I tapped a reply.

  Remember you told me to do something daring? When I sang to the QB?

  And?

  He kissed me.

  Camryn’s reply was exactly what I expected. WHAT???!!!! The girl could use more exclamation points than a keyboard ninja. Why didn’t you tell me?

  My grin was stupid-wide. I was just waiting for the right moment, I guess.

  And now you’re going to football games where said BQ will be the star player?

  I laughed again. BQ?

  Boyfriend Quality. I did that on purpose.

  Sure you did.

  BQ, QB, same difference. Anyway. Bailey!! Cam said, adding more of those exclamation points I knew she loved. This is great!

  It is?

  Sure, I mean, if you like him. Do you like him?

  I hesitated. The soprano in the hall across from me missed a few notes and started her strain over again.

  Send me a pic, Cam added.

  That means I have to take one.

  LOL in that case, Cam said, you can thank me later. And then she sent me a selfie of her and Beckham snuggled together on his couch.

  Mid-reply, the soprano in the practice room caught my attention yet again. She was attempting to climb what sounded like an octave, from a lower C to the higher one again. Curious, I peeked into the practice room’s miniature window and instantly wished I hadn’t.

  Charly’s pink lips created a perfect O as her voice cascaded. My appearance grabbed her attention. Her eyes shot to me. Her mouth snapped shut. I wasn’t sure I’d be so intimidated by her if it weren’t for Jenn’s warning, but I staggered against the cinderblock wall as she jerked the door open.

  “Got a problem?” she demanded.

  “I—no. You sound great,” I added truthfully. Maybe we could work our way through this tangle.

  “Wish I could say the same for you.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I heard your little display on the field last week. You might think you’re hot enough for Professor Granger’s next feature, but if you think you’re beating me for the spot, you have another thing coming. I suggest you drop out.”

  “I’m not dropping out,” I said.

  “I could make your life here very miserable.”

  I didn’t doubt that. Still, I couldn’t figure out what her problem was. She broke up with Tate before he kissed me. Why should she have a chip on her shoulder with me?

  I was a cornered cat. My back yearned to arch, my teeth to bare their fangs and release a few hisses for good measure. Frantically, I did a mental skim through my favorite books, trying to think of any with instances like this, to think how characters would handle this. But my mind was a total blank.

  Charly didn’t wait for anything to come to mind, though. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have some practicing to do.” She whirled around, her dark curls bouncing, before slamming the door in my face.

  My blood boiled beneath my skin. I felt exposed, raw and shaken and on completely unsure footing. I was never good at confrontations, but that was just plain nasty. For a moment I considered withdrawing, but Professor Granger said I had promise. She said I had a real shot at being featured. Was I intimidated? More than I could say. Did that mean I’d walk away on an opportunity like this though?

  Not a chance.

  I made it to my own practice room and closed the door behind me. The tension Charly created in me expelled in one huge puff of air. Tears bit at my eyes, but I refused to cry over her meanness. I paced the small room a few times, shaking my hands at the wrists, waiting for my blood to settle and finally began my warmups. Wouldn’t she just love the fact that I was singing the national anthem tonight?

  I stared at my phone again, at my recent conversation with Camryn. “Don’t listen to Charly,” I murmured to myself. I couldn’t let her get to me. Things were looking up. Among other things, Charly hadn’t been asked to sing the national anthem tonight. I had.

  I would sing. I would go to the bonfire, ask Tate for a selfie, and not let that girl ruin anything I had going for me.

  Chapter Eight

  “You what? Bailey, that’s wonderful!” Mom’s praise was the cherry on my happy pie. She’d been encouraging me to step out of my shell for years.

  “Yeah, I can’t even believe it’s happening,” I said, gripping my phone and walking along the edge of the rug in my dorm room.

  “Sounds like this school was a good move for you after all. Is your dad coming to hear you?”

  Rock in stomach. I made my way to the bench under my loft bed and sank down. “Oh. I—um...”

  “Did you tell your dad?” she said in her mom voice.

  “He’s doesn’t need to know.”

  “Bailey.” Mom’s tone was reprimanding. I stared at the bottom of my bed, situated above me. How could I make her understand this? I hadn’t told her about the dinner we had or the unpleasant way the night had ended. I hadn’t told her how Dad had felt more like a stranger to me during the awkward episode than he ever had before.

  I hadn’t told her how he’d called Laurel my family.

  “I’m okay with where our boundaries are,” I said. Especially after that dinner. Laurel was Tate’s family, not mine.

  Oh no. I bolted straight up. Laurel was Tate’s mom. Did that mean she and Dad would be coming to the game anyway?

  “Bailey?” Mom said. “Did I lose you, honey?”

  I choked my phone. “Oh, sorry, Mom. I’ve got to go. Love you.”

  “You can’t shut your dad out forever—”

  “Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  I plunged my head into my hands. Ugh. I didn’t think about Dad and Laurel being at the game. Maybe if I hid...

  No. No more hiding. After the confrontation with Charly earlier, after Tate’s unnerving attention, I couldn’t go back to the old me—not even when it came to my dad. As if reading my thoughts, a new text from Dad came through. I swiped my phone to read it.

  Coming to the game tonight. Will we see you there
?

  Maybe, I replied pathetically. Oh, say, would they see me.

  You’re welcome to sit with us, Dad said.

  Cringe city. No thanks, I said. I’ve been invited to sit with some friends.

  Considering the hordes that had amassed around me since the video of my kiss with Tate had gone viral around the school, I was sure I could make that happen. I thought of Lane and Veronica, the girls who’d pegged me for boy advice earlier. Maybe they would be there—except they were freshman. I thought about Jenn, too, but she was going to be cheering the team on with the rest of her squad.

  The afternoon passed. Time I should have spent reading neoclassical literature and studying the ramifications of the Stamp Act and early American Sons of Liberty was instead occupied with running over the ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’s’ lyrics. My Calculus assignment also got a shabby once-over instead of the usual attention I devoted to schoolwork. I just couldn’t focus. My nerves raced like pedaling bikes beneath my skin.

  They didn’t get better at the sight of the stands filling with spectators in the chilly autumn evening. An icy breeze shot straight beneath my coat and beanie. Charly, Jenn, and the other cheerleaders warmed up on the track. I waited a few feet from them, near a ref in a striped uniform who was polishing his whistle, and determined not to look in the stands for a sign of Dad and Laurel. I didn’t want to even know in what vicinity they were sitting.

  Soon enough, my name was announced. I froze in fear, unable to move. The teams lined along the track, ready to place their hands on their hearts. My pleading gaze shot to Tate. He was hard to discern among the others in similar helmets and pads, but I spotted him. He nodded twice, and that small gesture gave me the courage I lacked.

  Silence built. I knew they were all wondering where I was and why I wasn’t making my way to the field. A few cheerleaders laughed. I didn’t miss Charly’s folded arms and scowl, but beside her, Jenn broke away and waved me on with a thumbs up.