The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels

by Christina Benjamin

  “Sophie made a couple rude comments about you being my girlfriend in first period.”

  “And did you correct her?”

  “Yes, of course. But I don’t think she believes me.”

  Sam sighed and shoved a straw in her can of soda, taking long slurps. “I mean why does she care anyway? You said she broke up with you.”

  “I don’t know. But maybe we shouldn’t spend a lot of time together while we’re on campus. Seeing us together will only piss her off and feed the rumors.”

  “You heard the rumors too? Everyone definitely thinks were dating!” Sam was still nervously slurping her soda, when Devon gently pulled it from her hands.

  “Sam, you’re shaking. I don’t think you need the extra caffeine right now.”

  “It has nothing to do with caffeine! You can’t abandon me, Devon! They’ll eat me alive!”

  “No one’s going to hurt you, Sam. It’s all just talk. You said your old school was kinda like this, no?”

  “Not this bad. And I was never the one being picked on.”

  “The first day is always the worst. They’ll find someone new to pick on soon enough. But for now let’s lay low.”

  Sam had calculus after lunch. And of course, Sophie and Tess were in her class. Sam already hated math. Why not make the nightmare complete and throw in a few of Satan’s blonde Barbie spawns?

  Things just kept getting worse. Sam was late to class, so the only seat available was right in front of Sophie and Tess, and apparently a third one, named Molly, who had matching perfect blonde hair. God! Maybe Sam could just dye her hair blonde and they’d think she was one of them.

  Halfway through class, Sophie leaned forward and poked Sam with a sharp pencil. “Psst.”

  Sam tried to ignore her.

  “Psst! It’s Samantha, right?”

  Sam peeked over her shoulder.

  “I’m not gonna bite you,” Sophie whispered after a dramatic eye-roll.

  “What do you want?” Sam asked.

  “Are you really dating Devon James?”

  “No!” Sam said a little too loudly. A few other students looked at her.

  “Good. Because that would be a bad idea. Devon’s not a good guy. And you’re new here. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Jesus! Was Sophie threatening her? Wasn’t that the kind of thing people said on the Sopranos? Then Sam’s defenses kicked in. Who was Sophie to talk shit about Devon? Devon was the only good person Sam had met so far—although saying so seemed like suicide at the moment. She wussed out and instead muttered, “Well, there’s nothing to worry about because we’re not dating.”

  “It’s just that it seems you two spend a lot of time together,” Sophie added a few minutes later.

  Really? Sam thought their conversation was over.

  “I sorta have to. I’m staying at his family’s house. Our parents are friends. It’s a long story.”

  “So you’re not dating him?” Sophie asked again.

  “No!”

  Tess chimed in. “Then why did I see you two shopping for lingerie?”

  “It was just a joke.”

  “And I saw you dancing with him at my cousin’s wedding,” Molly added.

  “We went as friends,” Sam replied.

  “But my boyfriend said you told him you were dating Devon,” Tess continued.

  Sam scoffed. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “Sean Dougherty,” she said proudly.

  “Oh.” The prick from the sports shop. What are the chances?

  “Listen, Samantha,” Sophie purred. “It seems you’re confused about what’s going on between you and Devon, so let me help you figure it out. Stay away from him or you’re not going to like it here.”

  “What are you talking about? And didn’t you break up with Devon for his best friend?”

  Sophie laughed. “If you think Zander and Devon are friends you’re even dumber than you look.”

  Then the bell rang, and the three evil blondes flounced out of class, like they hadn’t just been spouting death threats.

  Sam really didn’t think things could get worse after calculus. But she was wrong. All through her Poly-Sci class a steady stream of boys walked past her desk laying panties with their phone numbers scrolled on them on top of her books. Her face was burning with shame. And the stupid teacher was either too old or too blind to notice what was happening. Or maybe panty-grams were a normal first day greeting at Eddington. Either way, all Sam could do was stuff them in her backpack and try not to cry.

  One of the girls sitting behind Sam snickered. “I heard all it takes to get her in bed is a new pair of panties.”

  “That’s because she goes through them so quickly,” another one added.

  Sam closed her eyes and prayed to just make it through the day. Twenty more minutes. You can do this.

  When the bell finally rang Sam gathered her things and bolted from the classroom. When she got to the portico she realized it was pouring. She grabbed her umbrella—the one Devon told her she’d need that morning—thankful for at least one mercy in this hellish first day. She unsnapped the umbrella and started opening it above her as she rushed down the steps to the parking lot. She was midstride when a colorful storm of lace rained down around her from inside the umbrella. She looked at her feet and saw soggy pairs of panties strewn over the parking lot. Then, she looked up to see one more pair dangling from the umbrella, caught in the wires. She yanked it free and froze as she stared up at the words someone had written inside the umbrella. Last chance . . .

  A burst of laughter nearby caught Sam’s attention and she looked over to see a group of blondes giggling wildly. One of them held a cell phone, steadily aimed at Sam, recording her mortifying moment, while Sophie smiled and waved.

  Devon

  “I swear to God, Devon. They’re threatening me. We have to go to the principal.”

  “Headmaster.”

  “Whatever. We need to tell an adult. Those bitches are crazy. And they’re planning something.”

  “That’s just how they are. They always try to stir up trouble, but they’re all talk. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “How can you say that? This morning you were all, everything’s going to be grand, Sam. Does grand mean psychotic in Ireland? How did you deal with Eddington all these years?”

  “It wasn’t always like this. Or maybe it was, but I dunno . . . I was never targeted.”

  “So you’re saying you used to be popular and now just because you quit the soccer team everyone hates you?”

  “Football! And yes, basically.”

  Sam frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Something similar happened at Stanton a few years ago, and it didn’t end well. I really think we need to tell the administration what’s going on.”

  “Listen, I’m not going to stop you if you really want to talk to the Headmaster,” Devon said. “But there’s nothing he can do. Going to Eddington is a privilege. Parents pay a lot of money so their kids can go here. Which basically means the students get away with murder because no one wants to piss off the people footing the bills. He’ll most likely say if Eddington isn’t to your liking, find a different school.”

  Sam looked like she was going to cry and it was breaking Devon’s heart. He knew all of this was his fault. And he had a plan to fix it, but it would depend on Zander’s cooperation. Until Devon could smooth things over and get the target off Sam, the best thing he could do was to distance himself from her—even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe tomorrow we shouldn’t drive to school together.”

  “What? How am I supposed to get to school?”

  “We have a car service. I’ll ask Thorton to drive you.”

  “So that’s it? You’re ditching me already? Some almost boyfriend you are.”

  “Sam, come on. It’s not like that. We’re still friends.”

  �
�Don’t, Devon. Don’t you dare give me the, I like you, but only when no one else is around, bullshit. I’m not an idiot. I used to be popular too.”

  Devon forced his mouth shut and ground his teeth to stop himself from objecting. He wanted to scream. Sam couldn’t actually think that’s what he thought of her, could see? He fucking loved her. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But not if it meant hurting her. Not when it was his fault school was a nightmare for her. He could take it if she was angry with him, as long as it would protect her. What were a few more days of Sam not knowing he was in love with her? He’d waited this long. A little bit longer wouldn’t kill him.

  19

  Devon

  A few more days turned into a few more weeks. And Devon was no closer to talking to Zander. They didn’t have any classes together and Zander refused to talk to Devon when he waited for him after practices.

  Zander finally acknowledged Devon, after he cornered him in the parking lot after school. “It’s too late to come crawling back, mate,” Zander warned.

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then I have nothing to say to you,” Zander replied strolling to Sophie’s car.

  It seemed all Devon’s old teammates were determined to shut him out and Zander wasn’t going to cross that line. Hell, he’d probably been the one to draw it. And Devon couldn’t even blame him. He knew he’d behave the same if it had been Zander to ditch the team while Devon still played.

  Devon stood in the parking lot at a loss. He watched Sophie and Zander make out before pulling away. And then he watched Sam slink into a sleek black town car without so much as glancing in his direction. Misery settled into Devon’s chest. He didn’t know what to do. Things with Sam had gone wrong so quickly. She wasn’t speaking to him. She took the car service to and from school and didn’t even come to the lunchroom. He had no idea where she was hiding.

  They saw each other at home, but mostly at dinner, and he couldn’t really talk to her in front of her father, Cara and the kids. And every time Devon went to Sam’s door, she refused to answer it.

  It was probably just as well. What would he even say? How’s school? Sorry you think I’m avoiding you, but I’m actually trying to protect you?

  Devon knew he was running out of options, so he gave up his pride and begged Cara for a favor. She was his last hope.

  Sam

  Sam’s phone was dead—again. It was dead a lot these days. It didn’t charge right with the stupid UK adapter. And she’d spent all day texting Megan while she was at school so she could pretend she was at Stanton instead of in hell—otherwise known as Eddington.

  It’d been two weeks since her first day. Things weren’t any worse, but they weren’t better either. Sophie and her minions were leaving Sam alone now that she wasn’t talking to Devon. But she wasn’t talking to Devon. And that pretty much left no one for Sam to talk to, making her desperately lonely.

  After radio silence for two weeks—which was her doing—Sam realized how much she missed Devon. He kept trying to talk to her at home, but her pride got in the way. She hated feeling used. If he wasn’t brave enough to be her friend at school, she wasn’t going to be his friend at home. She knew he was trying to help her, but it still stung.

  Sam plugged her useless phone into the charger and decided to video chat with Megan before it got too late. Sam practically lit up when she saw Megan’s face pop onto her laptop screen. “Hey, Meg!”

  “Hey, kiddo!” Megan greeted.

  “Kiddo?”

  “Yeah, I’m trying it out. I need a thing. All great film writers have a thing.”

  “Well, it’s not kiddo,” Sam said crinkling her nose.

  “What about tootsie? Hey there, toots?” Megan said in a ragtime voice.

  Sam giggled and shook her head. “No. Definitely not toots.”

  “It worked.”

  “What?”

  “You laughed! I haven’t heard that sound in ages.”

  Sam hadn’t either. She smiled back at her best friend, wishing she could reach through the phone and hug her. “Thanks, Meg. I needed that.”

  “So how goes Camp Half-Blood?” Megan asked. That was her code word for Eddington since it referred to a school full of demons and demi-gods.

  Sam sighed. “Same, it still sucks.”

  “And Devon?”

  “He still sucks too.”

  “Are you still not talking to him?”

  “Yeah. But it’s probably for the best. He’s basically Eddington’s Cody Matthews.”

  “Well, maybe you could be his Hannah Stark!” Megan mused, referring to Stanton’s legendary wunderkind who somehow cracked the Goldens and rescued Cody from social exile and jail time.

  “I don’t want to be his anything. I just want to come home.”

  “What about your dad? Still won’t budge on Boston?”

  “Nope.” Sam had told her father how much she hated Eddington and that kids were teasing her, but as suspected, he pulled his usual give it time speech.

  “Well, I may have some good news for you,” Megan offered.

  “You chartered a helicopter to break me out of this prison world?”

  “No, but what would you say to having another inmate join you for a bit?”

  “What? You’re coming to Ireland?”

  “If you’re still there by winter break, my mom said she’d buy me a ticket to come visit.”

  Sam started to tear up, both from happiness and dread. The thought of getting to see Megan made her giddy, but that meant she’d have to survive Eddington all the way till break.

  “Is that okay?” Megan asked when Sam didn’t respond.

  “Oh my God, yes! That’s amazing, Meg. I think I’m just in shock.”

  Sam opened another window on her laptop and started counting.

  “What are you doing?” Megan asked.

  “Counting the weeks until you get here.”

  Megan laughed. “I already did that. There’s eighteen.”

  Sam closed her eyes. That seemed like a lifetime away.

  “Hey! None of that. You’ve got this, Sam. Are you doing what I told you and going to the library during lunch?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And you were right.”

  “I knew the nerds would take pity on you.”

  “They haven’t befriended me.”

  “But they don’t give you shit either, right?”

  “Right. But I hate it. I feel like a coward hiding in the library. I could totally take those stupid Irish Barbie dolls.”

  “Easy, killer,” Megan said. “Channel that energy into your soccer tryouts tomorrow.”

  “I will.” That was pretty much the only light at the end of the tunnel for Sam. Soccer was her solace. Soccer didn’t play favorites. Soccer let you prove yourself and leave everything on the pitch. Plus, Sam couldn’t wait to lay some blonde bitches out.

  “Okay,” Megan said. “I gotta get some studying done. Kick ass tomorrow.” She blew Sam a kiss.

  “Bye.” Sam waited for the screen to go blank, then she balled herself up on her bed and cried.

  How had this happened to her? Her life sucked. Her classes were hard. She had no friends. And she missed Boston so bad she feared she might have actually left her heart there. Plus, her father didn’t even care. Megan was the only one who did, but their friendship was contained to a laptop or cell phone for the next eighteen weeks.

  Having no one to interact with face-to-face was starting to depress Sam. She stared at her bedroom door. She almost wanted to go across the hall and sit on Devon’s bed so she could pet Eggsy and maybe convince Devon to bake another pizza. Almost. But almost wasn’t enough.

  20

  Sam

  The next day Sam had a text from Devon when she woke up.

  DEVON: Good luck at tryouts today.

  She ignored it.

  Sam went through the school day on autopilot—keeping her head down, eating in the libr
ary, and focusing on assignments. As hard as her classes were, she was actually staying on top of them since she had nothing better to do. She’d been a mediocre student at Stanton—mostly B’s, maybe C’s in math. But when Sam got her first Eddington Calculus quiz back with a giant red A on it she did a fist pump. Sophie and Tess snickered, but Sam didn’t even care. Nothing was going to get her down today. Today was soccer day.

  When the last bell sounded, Sam practically sprinted to the sports complex. She’d already met with Coach Tomlin the first week of school to confirm her tryout. He was holding a special one just for her since the rest of the girls’ team had been selected during summer club. Sam changed quickly and reported to the soccer pitch expecting to see Coach Tomlin waiting for her. But when Sam walked through the bleachers to see the boys’ team on the field she stopped dead. She glanced at her watch. She was right on time. And there was no way she’d gotten the day wrong. She’d been living for this moment.

  Coach Tomlin blew his whistle when he saw Sam. “Boys, I’ll need this half of the pitch,” he called while motioning Sam over. “Apologies,” Coach said. “First day of practice. The blokes were early. Guess everyone’s eager to get this season started. Are you ready?”

  Sam glanced over her shoulder. She hated having to try out with the boys watching. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. “Ready, Coach.”

  “Good lass,” he said patting her on the back.

  Coach Tomlin put her through all the standard drills—speed, agility, passing, throw-ins, headers, goal accuracy—and Sam nailed them all. Even with the boys cat-calling behind her.

  “You’re good, Connors,” Coach Tomlin praised when she’d scored her tenth goal in a row. Of course there hadn’t been a goalie, but she hit her target every time. “Do you mind running a few drills with defenders? The girls’ team is in the weight room. I can pull a few of them out to—”

  “I’ll run drills with her,” called a voice behind Sam.