by Emma Dalton
Quarterbacks Don’t Fall For Invisible Girls
By
Emma Dalton
Copyright © 2021 Emma Dalton.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to real life, movies, television, games, or books is entirely coincidental and was not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
About the Author
Chapter One
Brayden Barrington has got to be the most gorgeous quarterback in the history of Edenbury High.
And I’m not just saying that because I have a major crush on him.
Sitting on the bleachers on this beautiful mid-September day, I can’t blink away as he and his teammates sprint around the football field. It’s like there’s a spotlight on him, illuminating everything that is Brayden Barrington. Star quarterback with a killer smile. The sexiest guy in the whole school—no, the universe. Even under all that gear, I can see his muscles bulging out…and my mouth drops open as I imagine touching that hard chest. Sliding my hand up that huge bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. Heat rushes to my cheeks as my thoughts drift to Brayden sweeping me into those strong arms and whispering sweet words in my ear…
A whistle tosses my thoughts away. Peering around, I spot Coach Papas shouting directions at the team. They swallow up his words, each wanting to improve so they can be on their A game Friday night. I haven’t missed a single game since Brayden became the quarterback last year. My friends would call me obsessed—if I had friends, that is.
As the coach continues to bark at the team, I flip through the papers on my lap. There must be at least ten club signup sheets, and yet I can’t seem to find one for me. Chess? Not skilled enough. Science? Not smart enough. Orchestra? Not talented enough.
Do you see a pattern here?
Dad told me I need to look interesting on college applications, which is why I’m hoping to join an after school activity. But the truth? I just want friends, or at least for people to acknowledge that I exist. I’m a junior and have been invisible at this school since the first day of freshman year.
Sighing, I continue flipping through the pages, then return my gaze to the beautiful quarterback at the center of the field. He’s waving his hands around as he calls out to his teammates. And they drink up his words like Gatorade. One thing Coach Papas loves about Brayden is his sportsmanship. He loves the team like they’re his brothers. He’d take a bullet for them.
How do I know this? I may or may not spend my free hours stalking him on social media. But everyone does that, right? Especially girls like me.
Practice is over and the guys rush toward the school building to shower. I gather my papers and make my way down the bleachers. As I step off the field and head for the doors, a brick wall slams into me and I fall splat on my butt.
“Oof!” The wind is knocked out of me and the papers fly out of my hands.
“Sorry, you okay? I didn’t see you there,” a deep voice says from above me amid fluttering papers. Glancing up, I stare into gorgeous sky-blue eyes. Eyes that belong to Brayden Barrington.
Someone giggles loudly a few feet away. “And Invisible Girl strikes again.” Head cheerleader Teagyn Myers barks out in laughter. She and the other pom-pom twirlers are practicing here, too, under Teagyn’s mom’s supervision, Coach Myers. As a former cheerleader herself, she knows a thing or two about the subject. Coach Myers was also my mom’s best friend, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference at all. Her daughter has pretty much treated me like crap since we were in diapers.
Oh, and that whole Invisible Girl thing? Story of my life.
“Did I hurt you? Can you stand?”
I glance up at Brayden holding out his hand to me. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there, and like I’ve lost my brain, I just stare into those beautiful eyes.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he presses.
I shake my head quickly and shoot to my feet like a canon. “I’m okay.” My cheeks heat up even more as it dawns on me that I fell on my butt. Right in front of thee Brayden Barrington. Someone kill me now.
He bends to collect the papers, hands them to me, then advances toward the school building. And I stare after him, taking in each and every part of him, etching him into my memory. Because this is the most I’ll ever see or interact with the star quarterback.
Invisible girls are meant to be invisible after all.
***
“Dad, you home?” I call as I chuck my backpack on the hallway floor and pop into the kitchen. He’s at the stove wearing one of his “Dad” aprons. Today it’s “There’s No Chef like Papa.” Mom would give him one every year on his birthday, and he would sweep her up in his arms and lay a big one on her, telling her over and over how much he loves her. I would watch them with my cheeks burning due to the humongous smile etched into my face. I would imagine what it would be like to have that one day with someone special.
But there haven’t been any new “Dad” aprons or passionate kisses in the last three years. Because my mom’s dead.
Trying not to sigh or let the pain prick my insides, I throw on a smile and walk up to Dad, who is so caught up in the soup he’s mixing that he doesn’t hear me approach. I give him a peck on the cheek before wrapping my arms around him. “Hey, Dad.”
“Pumpkin!” He drops the wooden spoon and returns the hug. “How was school?”
It takes everything I have not to groan out of sheer embarrassment. How was school? I basically lie to him every day so he won’t suspect just how miserable I am—I can’t bear him worrying about me—and after my epic flop in front of none other than thee Brayden Barrington, I want to pretend today hadn’t happened. No, I want to pretend my life hasn’t happened.
“Kara?” he asks, eyes narrowing in concern. “Is everything okay?”
I paste on a smile. “Of course!” I say too cheerily. “School was great, as always. How was work?”
“Great. Got a new recruit for Astor University,” he says as he turns back to mixing the pot. “He comes from a broken home. I’ve never met anyone so resilient.”
Dad’s a college football recruiter for Astor University. The school is about an hour away from our small town of Edenbury, Georgia. He loves his job because he meets so many kids from
different backgrounds and makes their dreams come true. He’s very dedicated, maybe because pouring himself into his job helps him forget the pain of losing Mom. It’s been three years, but when you have that kind of love? I don’t think the pain could ever disappear.
I swallow hard as a lump the size of Jupiter attacks my throat. Mom was my…everything. My best friend. My confidant. The one person in the world who understood me. And now she’s gone and I have to navigate life all by myself. I mean, I have Dad, but he’s so clueless sometimes. And I’m so scared of hurting him. I just want him to be happy.
He announces that the soup’s ready and we settle down at the table. Dad’s not the greatest cook—that was Mom’s department—but the food’s pretty decent. I can’t complain, I can’t cook worth crap.
“Any luck finding more extracurriculars?” he asks.
The image of me splatting on my butt in front of thee Brayden Barrington flashes before my eyes. “Ugh!” I groan.
Dad’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I quickly say. “I just feel so awkward sometimes.”
He nods slowly like he’s a little confused. “Isn’t that normal at your age?”
“Not for people like Teagyn and all the other cheerleaders,” I grumble.
“What was that?” he asks as he takes a spoonful of soup.
I paste on another smile, this one probably showing too much teeth. “It’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to try to understand the teenage girl brain. I’ll survive.” I hope.
A serious expression crawls on Dad’s face as he lays his spoon in his bowl. “Honey, I hope you know you can talk to me whenever you need to. I know it was always your mother’s department…” He shifts in his chair. “But I’m fully capable of…er…helping you navigate these confusing and nervous years?”
I burst into giggles. “Dad, you look like you’d rather jump into a lion’s den.”
“I’m trying to be serious here, Kara.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. But you have nothing to worry about. I’m fine. And I’ve got…friends to help.” Ugh, I hate lying to him.
He nods slowly, relief clouding his features. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. You have your girlfriends to help. Because they’re going through the same things as you.”
Yeah, if only the sky would open and a group of girlfriends would rain down on me.
Sick of lying and this conversation, I steer the conversation to something my dad loves—football. All his worries about me fly out the window. As for my worries? Unfortunately, they’re still stuck to me like glue.
I offer to do the dishes, but he shoos me away to my room to get started on homework. I plop down on my bed with a heavy sigh, my body sagging into the soft mattress. Putting up the façade that I’m happy and everything is perfect is so exhausting. Why can’t I have at least one friend? Someone who actually sees me. Then maybe Dad would stop worrying that he’s doing a bad job at this single parenting thing.
Reaching for my phone, I open up the Spill It! social media app. It’s all the rage these days. It was created a few years ago by multi-gazillionaire Easton Knight. His son, Easton Jr., is a new student at our school this year. He’s already fitting in so well with the popular kids—and look at me. I’ve been with these kids since ninth grade, some of them in elementary school, and they still don’t know I exist. It’s not because I’m ugly, right? No, if I was ugly I’d still be noticed. I guess I’m just plain and boring.
My fingers bring me to Brayden’s page. He’s posted and tagged pictures with the football team and cheerleaders. They’re at Mikey’s Diner and are having the grandest time. They’re not stuck at home with no friends like this pathetic loser.
I zoom in the picture to his face. He’s such a hottie. Strong features, a chiseled jaw, the whitest of teeth. Zooming out, I catch the person he’s smiling at—Teagyn Myers. The gorgeous blonde who’s all legs and enough body to command the attention of every guy in the room. The way she grins at Brayden, it’s like she’s got him in the bag. That might as well be true—girls like her always get their way.
But my mom was a cheerleader, too. Her team won nationals when she was a junior. She wasn’t a witch like Teagyn. She raised me to believe that you can achieve anything you want—as long as you’re kind to everyone around you.
I zoom back in to our star quarterback, scrutinizing that perfect face. As if someone like Brayden would ever notice someone like me.
Chapter Two
The last period bell rings and I gather my books and leave the classroom along with the other students. They pile into the hallway like ants, each toppling over one another to reach their lockers and be done with this place for the day. I’m pushed and shoved from side to side as I make my way to my locker. An elbow gets me in the eye, another in the stomach. One guy manages to shove me into a locker as he jogs over to his friend.
I’m left with my lips practically fused to the cold, disgusting metal locker. Congrats to Kara Gander—she just had her first kiss.
Sighing, I yank myself off and go to my locker, grabbing my things and then heading down the hall to the newsroom. The others haven’t arrived yet, not that it surprises me. With no social life, I’m always first. But that’s okay, I guess. Punctuality is a great quality.
Slowly, slowly, everyone else settles down and we all brainstorm next month’s issue. Being part of the school paper is a great extracurricular activity and would look awesome for college, but Dad insists I need more. My grades are good, but that alone isn’t enough anymore. Hence the reason I’m stressing out over those clubs. I still haven’t found any I can join.
“Kara? Where is she?” Our editor, Martina, surveys the room.
Seriously? I’m, like, ten feet away from her. How does she not see me?
“Kara?” she says again. “Does anyone know where she is?”
My hand shoots in the air. “I’m right here.”
Her brown eyes squint at me. “Oh, I didn’t see you.” She smiles. “Any ideas? Your piece on school lunch was fascinating.”
She’s sweet, but fascinating would be the last thing I’d call my article. It’s not that it sucked, but this topic has been done over and over again.
As if she can read my mind, Martina stands and paces the room. “We know we don’t reach many students here and that’s okay. Or at least it was.” She stops by Jason, our graphics guy. “It’s my senior year and I want to go out with a bang. I want this year’s paper to explode. I want it in every student’s hands. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be so popular we’ll publish weekly instead of monthly.”
The others exchange glances with each other, none of us sure what to make of her words. The paper exploding? Going viral? At Edenbury High? I don’t think so.
But I appreciate and love her enthusiasm. If we change someone’s life, then it’ll all be worth it. And it wouldn’t kill us to finally gain some recognition for our hard work.
“We’ll need good stories,” Martina goes on. “Better stories. Stories that will spin the Edenbury High Times on its axis.” She lightly knocks her knuckles on Jason’s desk. “So hit me with ideas.”
Alexi’s eyes light up like a light bulb went off in his head. “How smoking damages teen lungs?” he suggests.
Martina twists her nose. Gabby and Izzy roll their eyes. “That’s so tired,” Izzy says. “You’re right, Marti. We need something that’ll hook readers.”
Martina plops down at her desk, tapping her fingers on the table. “Something that’ll make them hungry for more. Come on, guys! What do kids at this school care about?”
“Football,” I mutter as I scroll through my phone.
She leaps to her feet. “Not just football—star quarterback Brayden Barrington. He’s the most popular kid at school and everyone loves him. He’s amazing. Kara, you’re a genius!”
“I am?”
She bobs on her feet like a little kid who’s about to open her birthday present. “Of course! Let�
�s get an exclusive interview with Brayden, dig deep, get to know him as more than just the quarterback. People will eat up our newspaper like candy.”
The others smile and nod. I guess she has a point. Even I’m curious about him, want to learn every single detail about him. Like how he smells after practice. I know, I know sweat can be disgusting sometimes, but I bet he smells like delicious man. Or, like, what’s his favorite food and drink? Does he have dreams other than football? What are his fears and insecurities?
“Great, so it’s settled. And Kara, we’ll need it done by the end of the week so it can be ready for next month’s issue.”
My lungs freeze up, and it feels as if I’ve swallowed cotton. “What? Me?”
“It was your idea. We know you won’t disappoint. Okay, guys, what else?”
As they brainstorm, I just sit there, not believing what just happened. She expects me to walk over to the hottest guy at school and request an interview? Me, Invisible Girl? The person who went splat on her butt right in front of him?
She’s got to be out of her mind.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg her to give the job to someone else, but I press my lips shut. I’ve been with the paper since freshman year, but if I start causing problems, she might give me the boot. And I really need this job. Not just for college applications but because I enjoy being on the paper. I like being part of something, even if we barely get readers. And even though the rest of the team feels more like colleagues than friends. Still, it gives me a sense of purpose. Responsibility. I’m not sure I want a career as a reporter, but at least it’s something.
Once our editor is satisfied, she dismisses us for the day.
“Kara.” She stops me at the door. I turn around. “I’m really looking forward to that article.”
I only manage to nod because I can’t move my lips. It’s like they’re frozen shut with fear and anxiety. I’m not normally an anxious person, only when sexy quarterbacks with hair like satin are around.
She smiles brightly. “See you later.”
I nod again and leave the room. My legs take me to the nearby bathroom and I bend over a sink, my breathing heavy.
