I just couldn’t stand how holier-than-thou Kate had been through the whole campaign. She was telling anyone who’d listen that this wasn’t a popularity contest—as if she wasn’t popular too. She kept bringing up football like it was my life—it wasn’t. I wasn’t even first string, and the only reason I still played was to have the added bonus of a sport on my college applications.
Then she started in on how I didn’t have any original ideas, insinuating that I was somehow trying to buy the election just because I threw the best parties and pulled some strings for my buddies. Did I pull some strings? Sure. Sometimes. Like the fact that we were all heading back to Sweet Mountain in Tim’s van rather than the school-provided transportation. Sure, I’d forged some parental signatures, but what was I supposed to do? Ride in the back of a gross-smelling school bus for the entire ride back to town?
I didn’t think so.
Anyway, she’d struck a nerve with all the not-so-subtle insinuations that I couldn’t earn the presidency through merit. Like I wasn’t busting my butt on a daily basis to get good grades and participate in extracurriculars.
Just because my parents had money didn’t mean I was slacking in any way. I worked harder than anyone I knew, and the fact that she made it sound like I was some spoiled, entitled, dumb jock had me seeing red.
So yeah, it had not been my finest hour. But when I’d seen my little sister’s Barbie—the one that came with glasses and a briefcase—it had struck me as funny.
Not ha-ha funny, necessarily, but kind of fitting. All petite and cute with the blonde ponytail, the big blue eyes, and the hourglass figure…the similarity had been striking.
It wasn’t like I’d been making fun of her for being smart, or pretty, or having a smokin’ hot body—more than anything, I’d just wanted to call her out on how she took everything so freakin’ seriously.
She had no clue how to take a joke, especially one at her expense. A fact that was made alarmingly clear by the war path she’d gone down when she’d found that Barbie sign taped up next to one of her perfect, cutesy little posters.
Logan handed the blank application back to me with a little smirk. “You gonna play nice this time?”
I rolled my eyes. “I have to.”
“Or Kate will kill you?” one of the guys said.
I let out a huff of amusement at the thought of an irate Kate. She was cute, in a terrifying kind of way, when she was feeling murderous. I knew this better than anyone because it seemed she pretty much always wanted to strangle me.
“Brainy Barbie,” Tim said with a moronic laugh from the driver’s seat. Tim, who hadn’t seemed to care at all that he wasn’t going to be president. Tim, who’d set out to be student council vice president to make his parents and guidance counselor happy, but who openly stated, on more than one occasion, that he planned to do as little work as humanly possible.
Tim, who was still shaking his head with laughter over a stupid joke I’d made at Kate’s expense nearly six months ago.
The fact that Tim still found it funny made me shift in my seat uncomfortably. Tim had the sense of humor of a fifth grader. I wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that I could make him laugh.
“She was so pissed,” Cal said with a shake of his head. He wore a little smile, and I had a feeling he, too, was thinking about how cute she looked when she was angry.
Cute but lethal. A bunny rabbit with fangs. I kind of wanted to say that to Cal just to wipe that smile off his face.
“It was supposed to be a joke,” I said for the millionth time.
“Mr. Gentry was not amused,” Cal said, stating the obvious.
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though...how many seventeen-year-old girls do you know who’ve never worn jeans to school?” I asked. “Not once.”
Everybody laughed good-naturedly, but they didn’t comment.
Here was the thing. Everyone loved Kate. They adored her, actually. She was like the school’s unofficial mascot. The one everyone turned to when they needed help with an assignment or needed a shoulder to cry on. She was reliable, dependable, sweet and cheerful.
To everyone but me.
I had no idea what I’d done to her my first week of school two years ago, but somehow, I’d managed to get on her bad side. And trust me when I say, you did not want to be on Kate’s bad side.
Of course, when I made comments like that to the guys, they just laughed. They had no idea. They looked at her and saw a cuddly little teddy bear.
I saw the grizzly bear beneath the smiley facade.
“I don’t know,” one of the guys said right on cue. “I kind of like the way she dresses. She looks cute in those little skirts of hers.”
Her style wasn’t cute, it was conservative. She gave new meaning to the terms straightlaced and uptight. She was like an overgrown Sunday school kid in pale pink dresses with lace collars or buttoned-down blouses with skirts that went to her knees. She dressed like a girl from another era, with her hair always pulled back in a tight ponytail, sporting those skirts and dresses all year-round, no matter what the occasion or the weather.
“Cute,” I muttered as I dropped my head back against the seat. “She looks like she stepped out of one of the Beach Blanket Bingo movies. She’s like…a modern-day Gidget.”
“Gidget!” Tim repeated, letting out an obnoxious laugh from the front seat, and I rubbed a hand over my eyes. Odds were, Tim had no idea what I was talking about. I’d bet that Tim’s mom hadn’t made him watch old movies for a year after his father set up house with his secretary.
“Her style is definitely…unique,” Logan said.
I scoffed. Unique, that was one word for it. I’d once been in the same PE class as Kate, and while every other girl was wearing short-shorts and tight T-shirts, Kate was sporting polo shirts and a skirt-shorts combo thing that I’d never even knew existed.
But whatever. I could handle her weird style of dress, her uber-competitive nature, and even her huge beaming grins that were directed at everyone but me…I could handle all of that just fine—if she had a sense of humor.
That was what I couldn’t stand about her. She took everything so seriously, herself included. Once upon a time, I’d tried teasing a smile out of her. But for a girl who was so quick to dole out smiles to everyone on earth, she was beyond stingy when it came to me.
One look in my direction, and her smiles fell flat. Sometimes they even turned into outright sneers.
I flattened out the sheet of paper and got my pen ready in case inspiration was about to strike on this long trip from our rival’s stadium back to Sweet Mountain High.
“I’m starving, man,” Logan shouted out to Tim.
Tim, who would get the job of student council president if Kate and I didn’t follow the rules and play nice. It was my moral duty to save Sweet Mountain High from Tim’s apathetic leadership.
Right?
I glared down at the sheet of paper. Somehow, writing I want to be student council president so that Tim is not, didn’t seem like the answer Gentry or anyone else was looking for.
So that Kate Andrews doesn’t win and become even more unbearable.
Nope. That probably wouldn’t work, either.
What had Kate written?
“Dude, turn off here,” Cal called out. “There’s a fast food place we can hit up.”
Everyone else was on board with the stopping and eating plan, so who was I to complain? Just the second-string party host who had hours of cramming ahead of him for Monday’s AP Calculus quiz and a student council application to fill out.
I followed the others out of the van and headed into the A-frame chicken shack called—I kid you not—Hot and Wild. Next to the sign was a picture of buffalo chicken wings, but the double entendre was not exactly subtle. And when we walked into the dive, it was clear that the gross attempt at sexiness didn’t stop with the name of the fast food joint. There were a few waitresses wandering around, and their uniforms involved tiny shorts and halter tops.
“Aww yeah, man,” one of the guys behind me said. “Check this place out.”
I was already elbowing my way past the guys in front of me, since odds were I’d end up paying for everyone.
“Welcome to Hot and Wild, may I take—” The hot blonde behind the counter stopped talking, her eyes growing wide.
I was frozen in place. No way. This could not be—
“Kate?” Cal bounded past me, apparently not nearly as stunned as I was by the sight of Kate—Kate Andrews—dressed in a halter top and...and…were those skinny jeans?
My mind was still reeling, my chest feeling oddly like it had been struck by a boulder, as the rest of the guys rushed the counter to greet a rapidly recovering Kate. “Hey, guys!” Her cheerful smile touched on every single football player...except me.
She seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with me as she laughed and joked with the others, a little white cap atop her head with a picture of a cartoon chicken on the side.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Logan said.
She shrugged. “Yeah, well...we can’t all live it up by the pool at our home in The Heights, right?”
A few of the guys laughed. I felt the blow even though she didn’t look my way. I lived in The Heights. And my pool parties were legendary.
One had to give her credit. She could make a direct hit without so much as a blink in my direction.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and watched her as she did her whole bubbly-sweetheart routine.
Fake, fake, and more fake. Every second of it. Yet, I got the feeling I was the only one who could see how uncomfortable she was right now. How much she hated that we were seeing her working here, and wearing that skimpy outfit.
I could admit it—I checked her out. I was only human, after all, and after years of hiding herself away behind high collars and swooshy skirts, I was...curious. Yup, it was just curiosity that had me cataloging the perfect curves and the flash of toned skin beneath the edge of her cropped top, which had the Hot and Wild logo stamped across her chest.
“Isn’t that right, Miller?” Cal said. He shifted to the side so I had an unobstructed view of her. And her of me. For the first time since she’d first spotted me, Kate’s gaze clashed with mine.
Hers held a challenge. As usual.
Everything else about this little tableau? So not usual. How was no one else freaking out right now about the sight of Kate in normal clothes? How was everyone just standing around chatting like this wasn’t the most mind-blowing moment of their lives?
I had to fight to swallow. The air in here had grown way too hot.
Logan smacked my arm. “We were just saying how she should wear this little getup to your Halloween party next weekend, am I right?” He laughed good-naturedly as he turned back to her. “No one would recognize you, Kate.”
I was almost certain I was the only person who even noticed the blush that was creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. “It’s just a stupid uniform,” she said.
“You should see what I have to wear when I caddy for my dad,” one of the guys said.
This launched a whole side conversation about awful uniforms that seemed to put Kate back at ease. Everyone’s friendly neighborhood overachiever—that was Kate. The sweetheart with the heart of gold…
And the claws of steel.
How did no one else see the claws of steel?
Even now, I could spot them just below the surface when I was drawn into the conversation again.
“You look hot in that uniform,” Tim said in his typical, oh-so-subtle style. “Nothing at all like…” He turned to me with a goofy grin. “What was it you called her, Miller? Gidget?”
I held back a groan as her gaze met mine, filled with suspicion and accusations. “Gidget?” She sounded annoyed and confused.
Not surprisingly. She’d probably never heard of Gidget either.
“Yeah,” Tim continued, oblivious to the murderous glint in her eyes. “You know, because you wear all those retro clothes.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. Accusation was there in her stare, but no one else seemed to notice. “I don’t dress retro,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, you do,” one of the guys said. “Miller was totally right. You dress like one of those fifties chicks. What are they called?”
Everyone looked to me. I didn’t answer. I’d gotten myself into enough trouble as it was, thank you very much.
One of her brows hitched up. “I dress like a fifties chick, huh?” She shifted so one hip was leaning against the edge of the counter. “I suppose that’s a compliment?”
My lips twitched up in amusement. “Not really.”
She gave a huff of amusement. “That’s what I figured.”
“It’s not an insult, either.”
“Uh huh,” she said, making a point of turning her attention to the computer screen before her. “So glad to see you’re on board with playing nice during the election, Miller.” She shot me a sidelong look that seemed to pin me to the ground where I stood. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for another Braindead Barbie poster...maybe this time she’ll be wearing a poodle skirt.”
She managed to say this in a cheerful tone, making all the guys around me laugh.
Only I seemed to be aware of the dark undertones here, the sheer malice in those baby blue eyes.
“I didn’t call you braindead,” I started.
But she cut me off. “What can I get for you, Cal?”
One by one, everyone placed their order. By the time me and my credit card got to the front of the line, the other guys had claimed the big table in the back.
“And what can I get for you?” she asked, her tone brisk as she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the screen even as she took the credit card from my hand.
I couldn’t help myself. I hated it when she ignored me. It was even more irritating than dealing with her claws. “A rousing endorsement for student council president would be nice.”
Her eyes locked on mine as her nose wrinkled up with derision.
“It was a joke,” I said mildly.
“You are hilarious,” she said with a straight face.
I actually felt a laugh bubbling up at how serious she looked right now, so at odds with the chipper, always-happy, always-on image she’d tricked everyone into buying.
After a brief staring contest, I blinked first. “Look, I didn’t come here to annoy you—”
“And yet you’re doing such a fine job of it without even trying,” she said with fakely sweet awe in her tone.
I held back a huff of irritation. The trick to driving Kate nuts was to not let her see the effect she had on me. If she knew she drove me nuts, she’d be unbearably smug, and there would be no living with her.
“Anything for you?” she asked.
“Nah, I’m good.”
She glanced at the credit card in her hand meaningfully before handing it over to me. “Paying for everyone else, huh?” She arched her brows. “What a surprise.”
I glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her head tilt said duh, the answer is obvious, and yet she still spelled it out for me. “Less than a week in, and you’re already trying to buy their love. It’s sad, Miller. Pathetic even.”
Anger swept over me so quickly I forgot to hide it. My nostrils flared as I leaned forward over the counter. “I don’t have to buy anything. I’ll win this election because everyone knows I can get things done.”
She arched a brow, and I caught the glint of triumph in her eyes at my uncharacteristic loss of composure. “And if you can’t get it done, you’ll hire someone to do it for you…right?”
I took a deep breath to try and calm the adrenaline spike that had me clenching the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white. My dad was the one who threw money around to get his way. He had no problem giving my mom a small fortune in alimony if it meant he got to start a new life without the burden of his old family. That fancy house my mom owned in The
Heights? That was a perfect example. My car? You guessed it, that was his way of buying my love before we moved out of state. His latest offer to make some calls to colleges, make a donation here and there—that was still ringing in my ears from our last videocall this past weekend.
How did she know?
Or maybe it was obvious.
Maybe she looked at me and saw a guy who was second best at everything except spending his dad’s money.
She leaned over the counter and lowered her voice to a hiss as she thrust the receipt in my hands and glanced down at her outfit. “If you even think of using...this as campaign maneuver—”
“This,” I repeated, tapping my chin thoughtfully like the sarcastic prick she already thought I was. “Would you be referring to your skinny jeans or the fact that you’re wearing a T-shirt that says Hot and Wild on it?”
Her nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed. That I was used to. It was the flaming pink in her cheeks that caught me off guard. It was the blush that gave me pause and made me feel…
What exactly did I feel? What was this slithery sensation in my gut?
Guilt. It was guilt. Maybe even shame for teasing her about something that actually hit home for her. Kind of like her taunts about my money. But if we were going to get through this election without getting in trouble with Mr. Gentry, one of us had to be the bigger man here.
“Look, Kate, I honestly didn’t come here to cause problems for you,” I said. “I didn’t even know you worked here.”
“Just go,” she snapped.
“Miss Andrews.” Her name was shouted from behind her in a harsh tone.
Her expression froze, her eyes going wide with horror as some scrawny kid with greasy hair came up to join her at the counter. “Is there a problem here, sir?” he said to me.
I looked from him to Kate, but her face had gone expressionless. The claws had been retracted, and in their place was a sweet little smile of complacence as they both waited for my answer.
A part of me wanted to annoy her—say something to make her swipe at me with those claws like an angry kitten. But I wasn’t about to get the girl fired. I wasn’t that mean.
My Know-It-All Nemesis: Sweet Mountain High Page 2
