The Queen B* and the Homecoming King

by Crista McHugh

  This week was fine, but what about next week? Or the week after? Would Brett’s conversation with his friends be enough to keep them in line, or would I have to run yet another blog post on their antics? I opened my mouth to mention that, but the sound of a yawn filled the line. Brett sounded exhausted, and I could bring it up after the big game on Friday. “Practice go well today?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any more calls from coaches?”

  That drew a tired chuckle from him. “Ugh! That guy wouldn’t shut up today. He even said some things I think would qualify as recruiting violations.”

  “It must be nice to be that much in demand.”

  “Maybe, but I’m looking forward to scouting out some of the California schools with my dad next week.”

  Now it was my turn to wilt, but for something other than his hotness. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss him until he brought up the trip. But I did manage to find a bright side to him being gone next week. “So I guess with you checking out those colleges, you won’t be back in time for Homecoming.”

  “Guess again. Dad and I will be leaving Sunday and coming back Tuesday night. I have too many obligations that week.”

  My heart was too busy doing a little happy dance that he wouldn’t be gone all week that I almost missed his next question.

  “And since you’re so interested in Homecoming, any chance you changed your mind about going to the dance with me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Some of the guys were talking about getting a limo.”

  I shook my head. “Can you imagine me squished in a limo with your friends and their cheerleader dates? I doubt I could squeeze in past Summer’s fake boobs.”

  He sighed. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” But I already knew the answer. He wanted me to become a part of his circle of friends almost as much as I wanted to avoid them. “Remember, I’m trying to ease into this whole relationship thing, and don’t tell me you didn’t catch some flak from Sanchez this afternoon for defending me and Richard.”

  His initial silence spoke volumes. But after a few seconds, he said, “They’re not all bad. I wish you could see that, just like I wish they could see you the way I see you.”

  A warm glow started in the center of my chest and spread through me. Brett was one of the few people to see me as something other than the Queen B*, to make me feel like I was something more than just a biting retort and an exposer of secrets. “Then give us time and don’t try to force the issue. I’ll try to be nicer—within reason, that is.”

  After all, I’d worked too hard over the last three years to earn my reputation, and it still evoked a mixture of fear and respect among most of the student body at Eastline.

  “I’ll try, too.” He mumbled something about tons of homework, so I let him go so he could get started on it.

  But his plea lingered in my mind the rest of the night. He wanted them to see me as he did—the real me, not the hard outer shell I portrayed at school. Just as I was always ready to see the worst in people, Brett always saw the good. Why else would he be friends with assholes like Summer and Sanchez?

  But I wasn’t ready to make myself that vulnerable, especially to the likes of them. It had been hard enough to open myself up to him. I couldn’t afford to lose the protective walls I’d built up by being “nice” to them. It was why I’d given him my rules, and why I needed to enforce them.

  Even if it meant disappointing him over a silly dance.

  Chapter Five

  I arrived at school the next morning to find Richard pacing outside the main entrance, his hands behind his back and his mouth drawn tight with worry. He rushed toward me as soon as he saw me. “Alexis, I need your support.”

  “I’ve been giving it to you all week.”

  “Then hold my hand while I look at the list of those who made the first cut.” Before I could say anything, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Ms. Rothstein’s classroom.

  A printed sheet of white paper hung on her door, announcing the people who’d made it to the next round of the debate team tryouts.

  Richard’s grip on my hand tightened until my fingers went numb. “I can’t look.”

  “Fine, I will.” I shook my hand free, thankful to have the blood flowing back into my fingers, and peered at the list of ten names. At the very bottom, I found his name and pointed to it. “There you are.”

  Richard threw his hands up in a huge victory cheer before tackling me with a hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me. You did it all on your own.”

  “But I couldn’t have done it without you being there.” He checked the list one more time. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

  “You’re only halfway there,” I reminded him. “You have one more day of tryouts tomorrow.”

  He grew serious and nodded. “Which means I need to get my A-game in gear. Lots of reading to do tonight. Lots of thinking about pros and cons of the possible topics they might throw at me.”

  I waited until we turned away from the list before asking, “Have you had a chance to speak to Morgan?”

  He stopped short and shot me an apologetic glance. “I’m so sorry, Alexis. I’ve been so busy with this debate team stuff—”

  “It’s fine.” I shifted my backpack to my other shoulder. “I left her a voice mail the other night. I’ve done all I can short of banging on her door and barging into her home.”

  “And we both know she’s never there.”

  Morgan’s parents were corporate lawyers who lived for their careers and expected their daughter to be as perfect as they were. Morgan, in turn, rebelled against them as much as possible, which probably explained her goth appearance and sometimes unemotional approach to sex. She enjoyed sex and had no problem hooking up with a hot guy who caught her interest. It was her up-yours attitude that had first struck a chord with me, and for five years, she’d been one of my best friends.

  But now, it was that same behavior that had me worried.

  Richard placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’ll try and talk to her this afternoon. After all, I owe you one.”

  I just hoped he could talk some sense into her and at least get her to listen to my version of events.

  Richard stopped at his locker and opened it to change out his books. A sheet of white paper drifted to the floor, and I picked it up, thinking it was part of an assignment or perhaps notes from a class. However, when I read the words printed in bold type, my blood boiled.

  Go to hell, fag.

  I tried to hide it from him, but I was too slow. Richard read the message and swallowed hard. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” he said with false indifference.

  As one of the few openly gay students in our school, he was probably telling the truth. But I also knew he kept his sexuality a secret from his grandmother, explaining she wouldn’t understand.

  I looked up and noticed Sanchez standing twenty feet away, his attention focused on Richard. It left no doubt in my mind who was behind the message.

  I held up the paper. “I can’t believe someone sacrificed a tree for this.”

  “It can always be recycled.” He took the message from me, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into a blue trashcan. “Besides, we have much more pleasant things to think about.”

  But as he led me away, I cast one more glance over my shoulder at Sanchez. If I had any way to confirm he’d written the note, I’d have no problem calling him out on my blog again and making sure he was benched for the biggest game of the year.

  I just wished retaliating against Sanchez wouldn’t hurt Brett in the process. It was the only thing that kept me from initiating the hunt for evidence right then and there.

  ***

  Brett gave me a tired smile as he slid into his seat in fourth period. The dark stubble on his cheeks contrasted with the bright gleam in his eyes. He looked exhausted, and yet, ready to tackle th
e day. It was a strangely attractive combination, and I couldn’t look away from him.

  “What? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “You just look…different.” But in a yummy way.

  He rubbed the side of his face, his five-o’clock shadow bristling under his palm, before reaching up to smooth an errant strand of hair that wouldn’t lie flat. “I overslept and barely got to school on time. I probably look like shit.”

  “No, you don’t.” I leaned forward and caught a whiff of his scent. Even when he was running late, he still smelled good.

  He tugged on one of my unruly curls and grinned.

  The bell rang, interrupting our conversation for the time being until Brett got the contraband IM program up and running.

  Got plans after class? he messaged.

  Not today. Richard doesn’t need any hand holding this afternoon.

  I could’ve sworn he laughed when he read it, even though no sound came out. The corners of his eyes crinkled. I saw he made it through the first round of the debate team tryouts.

  And he should make the team if he keeps doing what he’s been doing, I typed back. If he didn’t, I’d know who to blame.

  Want to get lunch and maybe tackle some homework before practice?

  I twitched in my chair from excitement that was tempered by a touch of caution. What if he wanted me to join him and his friends for lunch? What if Summer was there? Would he expect me to ditch my friends to hang out with his?

  I hid my anxiety by redirecting the conversation. What about prepping for the game?

  I need to catch up on school. Besides, I’ve reviewed enough film to know what to do against Skylake.

  Time to tease out some more details before I agreed. Where do you want to meet?

  What do you say to me grabbing a pizza and bringing it to your place?

  My excitement tripled, chasing away the last of my reservations. It was a study date, but at least I’d get to spend some time alone with my new boyfriend. Sounds great.

  An hour later, Brett stood at my front door with a delicious-smelling box of steaming hot pizza. But when it came to the steam factor, he was right up there. I couldn’t stop myself from pulling him closer and placing a kiss on his lips.

  He made a sound of contentment most people made when they bit into their favorite dish. “What about rule number two?”

  “We’re not in public.” I flashed a grin at him that said I wouldn’t mind a few more kisses before taking the pizza box from him. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “A few hours. You’d think the teachers would lighten up on the tests and assignments during the week of the Skylake game, not pile them on all at once.” The second I set the pizza on the dining room table, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. “You have no idea how much I was looking forward to this afternoon.”

  “You’re excited about doing homework with me?” I teased, savoring the hard planes of his body against mine and wishing we didn’t have homework to do.

  “And then some.” He gave me a squeeze that filled me with warmth and let me know he was thinking the same thing I was before he let me go. “I feel like I’ve been so focused on the game, I’ve been neglecting you. I feel like we saw each other more before we started dating.”

  “There’s a reason why I have rule number one.” I grabbed some paper plates and napkins from the kitchen. “You have your life, I have mine, and neither of us should give up what we love just so we can spend every moment with each other. Besides, even though I’m still learning about this football thing, I understand how big a rivalry this game is.”

  He set a couple of slices of pizza on his plate. “It’s huge for the team. If we win, we’re pretty much guaranteed a place in the state playoffs.”

  “And if you pull off another impressive performance, you’ve pretty much written your ticket to any school you want.”

  He looked away with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” I sat down next to him and reached for a slice. “You have coaches from the other side of the country trying to recruit you, Brett. That’s huge.”

  “It is, but nothing’s set in stone. I’m still trying to make up my mind.”

  It was the same non-committal response he’d been giving for weeks, much to his dad’s frustration. His dad had briefly played football in the NFL, and Brett had been pressured to follow in his footsteps from an early age. Thankfully, he still loved the game, but the constant pressure to get a scholarship to a top school had worn away at Brett, forcing him to finally have a serious talk with his dad about backing off. “Are you leaning toward one school or another?”

  He downed a slice of pizza before responding. “I’m probably going to go with a PAC-12 program. I don’t want to be too far from my family.”

  “So the U-Dub?” I asked, referring to the University of Washington, which was a mere twenty minutes from our Eastside suburb.

  He nearly choked on the second slice. “Not that close.”

  “So you’re not interested in them?” I nibbled on my pizza, cursing my curiosity for not letting me let the subject go. I knew it bothered him to talk about his college plans, and yet there was a part of me that was dying to know where he’d be next year.

  And then it hit me. I wanted to know where he would be because I wondered if there would be a way to keep our relationship going after high school. Damn, I was in trouble. We hadn’t even been officially dating for a week, and I was already in stalker mode.

  “I didn’t say that. Just that it might be a little too close to home.” Brett wiped his mouth with a napkin and grabbed a third slice of pizza. “What about you? Have you thought about where you’d like to end up next year?”

  I listed the colleges where I’d already applied and realized none of them were even on the West Coast. Maybe it was time to consider some of the PAC-12 schools. Berkeley was one, right? And Stanford or USC or UCLA? “But I’m still looking at other schools,” I added.

  “If anyone could write a ticket to the school of their choice, it’s you, Lexi.” He delivered his compliment in a way that told me he found my intelligence beautiful.

  “So can you.” I slid my chair closer to him until our knees touched. “After all, weren’t you the one who was bragging a couple of weeks ago about how you always got what you wanted?”

  “I almost didn’t.” He ran his fingers along the side of my face before threading them through my hair. “You had me scared there for a moment.”

  I looked into his warm brown eyes, still amazed at the admiration I saw shining from them. Brett could have any girl he wanted, and yet, he wanted me. “But you still won me over.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured before pressing his lips to mine.

  I had loved kissing Brett from the first moment his lips touched my fingers in that janitor closet weeks ago. He still managed to take my breath away and fill me with this insane giddiness every time our lips touched. It was like a head rush on steroids that always left me craving more.

  I made no effort to end the kiss. Instead, I pressed on, encouraging him to take the kiss deeper. We were safe inside my home, where none of his friends could see us or walk in on us. All my reservations vanished, leaving me free to enjoy every second of being in his arms.

  He reached behind me and pulled me onto his lap. The kiss escalated, our mouths open, our hands exploring each other. The stubble on his cheeks prickled my face, yet the sensation was oddly sensual—a contrast with the smooth way his lips moved against mine.

  I boldly reached under his shirt to touch the warm skin and hard muscles of his back and shoulders. He followed my lead, his hands massaging wherever they roamed. I no longer felt geeky or awkward when I was in his arms. I felt sexy, treasured, revered.

  Brett broke away, his breaths coming as hard and swift as mine. “Damn it, Lexi, you have no idea how I lose my head when I’m around you.”

  “I have a pre
tty good idea.” After all, I could easily lose my shirt when he kissed me. It had happened before, and it could surely happen again, even though he’d made no effort to unhook my bra or tug my shirt off while he’d been rubbing my back.

  And then it hit me. I was starting to feel more than the usual teenage hormones when he kissed me. Don’t get me wrong—they were still there, and part of me wanted to drag him to my bedroom and find out if sex was as fun as Morgan claimed it was, especially with the way my body responded to Brett’s touch. But I was more worried about the way my heart seemed to swell to the bursting point when he held my hand or the way I was pausing long enough to think about how my actions would affect him. But when he held me in his arms like this, all my thoughts faded into this semiconscious state where all I knew was him.

  I caught my breath and was in the process of leaning into him for the next round of kisses, hoping the physical action would distract me from the emotions that threatened to consume me, when the distinctive purr of a Mercedes engine caused me to freeze. Taylor didn’t have a driver’s license, so that left only one person.

  My mom.

  Panic stiffened my body and chased away all those warm, happy sensations that had flooded my mind and body while I was in Brett’s arms. A wordless conversation passed between us in a matter of a few seconds, and I could’ve sworn he nodded in understanding right before I jumped from his lap. We’d had a couple of close calls in his bedroom, so he knew the drill. By the time the door opened, I’d managed to push my chair back to its normal place at the table, ninety degrees away from him, and Brett had a calculus book open next to his plate of half-eaten pizza.

  I heard the hurried click of my mom’s heels before I actually saw her. She halted at the edge of the dining room, sniffed the air, paled, and covered her mouth as though she was trying not to puke. It was only after she gulped down a few breaths that she noticed Brett.

  “You have company, Alexis?”

  At least it wasn’t as awkward an introduction as when I met her boyfriend a few weeks ago. Unlike my mom and Pete, Brett and I still had our clothes on. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Brett.”