The Queen B* and the Homecoming King

by Crista McHugh

  My cheeks heated, and I wondered how long we’d actually been kissing.

  Brett crawled out of the car and turned around on his crutches. “So we’re on for tomorrow night?”

  “If it’s not too late.”

  “It’s never too late.” He grinned before he slammed the door shut and made his way to the front door.

  I got out and ran up to him. “Don’t forget your keys.”

  “Thanks, Lexi.” He placed a chaste kiss on my cheek, knowing his mom was on the other side of the door. “For once again challenging me to be better.”

  “It goes both ways.” I pressed my palm against his chest, measuring how fast his heart was beating and compared it to the frantic pace of my own. “After all, I might need a date for Mom’s wedding in December.”

  “I could go for that.”

  “Perfect.” I leaned forward, craving one more kiss good night, but a shadow on the other side of the door halted me. “Better get in before your mom gives you a stern lecture about kissing girls late at night.”

  He laughed, but the tips of his ears darkened. “I’ll call you tomorrow to finalize everything.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I backed away, my cheeks hurting from how hard I was smiling.

  Brett and I were going to Homecoming together.

  But when I reach my house, my joy turned to panic.

  Holy shit! Brett and I were going to Homecoming together.

  And I had no clue where to start.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mom was already asleep when I got home, and I couldn’t beg Taylor for help, especially since she was going to be too busy focusing on herself. So I endured a night of fitful sleep that swung between excitement and dread. What if I couldn’t find a dress? What if I had to settle for a strapless one and my boobs flew out while dancing? What if we had to eat dinner at a fast-food joint because there were no open restaurants? By the time the sunlight streamed through my window, I was a bleary-eyed mess.

  I hopped in the shower to wake up and went downstairs in my bathrobe to fix a pot of coffee.

  Only to find Pete in the kitchen with Mom.

  I tugged at my robe to make sure it covered all the important parts and started to back away, but I was too late. I’d been spotted.

  “Good morning, Alexis,” Mom said casually as though there wasn’t a guy in our house.

  I clutched the top of my robe at the base of my throat. “Um, hi, Mom, Pete.” I sidestepped through the kitchen, facing them but staying as far away as I could. “You’re here early.”

  Mom smiled up at him, and he coughed, which totally gave away that he’d spent the night.

  Geez, Mom. Talk about a hornball.

  I pretended not to know what they’d been up to all night and poured a cup of coffee from the pot they’d already brewed. “Mom, are you busy today?”

  “Pete and I are still looking at venues, and then I have to meet with a few caterers and…” She stopped midsentence and stared me as though I’d grown another head.

  I felt along my neck for any sore spots that would indicate a fresh hickey, but luckily didn’t find any. Still, I pulled my bathrobe up a little higher.

  “Why?” she asked with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

  I ran my hand along the granite countertop and tried to see if I could check my reflection in the side of the nearby stainless steel fridge. “Tonight’s the Homecoming dance, and it was kind of a spontaneous, last-minute thing, but I asked Brett to go with me, and I don’t have a clue where to start getting ready, and…” I gulped. “And I could use a little help.”

  An apologetic look flashed over Mom’s face, and she opened her mouth to probably tell me why she couldn’t, but Pete interrupted her.

  “I can do a little legwork today and send you some pics of the places, Susan. Then, if any of them catch your fancy, we can go back and see them together.”

  “But the caterers—”

  “Will still be there in a few days.” He nodded toward me before wrapping his arm around Mom’s waist and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Sounds like Alexis needs you right now.”

  Brownie points for Pete. If he hadn’t have stepped in, Mom would’ve probably given me the “I’d love to but I already have too many plans” speech. I still wasn’t cool with Mom marrying him so quickly, but he was starting to creep onto my good side.

  “You’re right,” she replied and leaned into him. “I’ll call the caterers and reschedule.”

  “I can do it for you.” Pete handed Mom her cell phone. “Just text me their numbers, and I’ll handle it from here.”

  A minute later, he left the room, armed with the information he needed to start those calls.

  Mom joined me by the coffee pot and combed through my tangled, damp hair. “So, what do we need to do today?”

  “Well, for starters, I need one of those frou-frou dresses that girls wear to school dances.”

  Mom arched both brows. “Do you want a frou-frou dress?”

  I snorted with a sarcastic laugh. “No, but what else would I wear? I mean, I saw the strapless sequined number with the tutu that Taylor’s wearing.”

  “I might have something.” She moved toward the stairs and motioned for me to follow.

  Mom had a gigantic walk-in closet the size of most kids’ rooms, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had some little formal number tucked away in there that might work.

  But what she pulled out was still in a brand-new garment bag. “When I was trying on dresses for the wedding, I saw this one on the clearance rack and had to get it.”

  I waited for it to be something older and maternal that she would wear, but the dress she pulled out took my breath away. It was a pearly white illusion dress with a shimmering silver lace overlay and sparkly beaded sash. The A-line cut would hit just above my knee and flatter my figure, and the modest neckline would keep me from worrying about a wardrobe malfunction. I reached out to touch it, relieved the lace didn’t feel stiff or itchy. “It’s stunning.”

  “I thought it would make a lovely maid of honor dress, but seeing as how you need a formal dress a little sooner, do you think this might work?”

  I nodded. “You bought this for me?”

  “Yes, for the wedding.”

  I squirmed every time she mentioned it and decided now was probably the best time to get a few things off my chest. “Mom, what’s going to happen after you and Pete get married?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Baby aside, Taylor and I are both kind of freakin’ about the prospect of maybe having to move and change schools halfway through the year.”

  “Pete and I already talked about this. He knows how well-rooted you two are at your school, so he’ll be moving in with us. He’s going to rent out his place until Taylor graduates, and after that we’ll decide where we’ll live.” She handed me the garment bag with the dress inside. “Why don’t you try it on?”

  I dashed down the hall, excitement and dread churning in my stomach. We weren’t in danger of moving, which was a relief. I loved the dress, which was a first for me since I usually hated fancy dresses. Still, I was worried it would look absolutely horrible on me and I’d have to either look through the leftovers at the mall or rummage through my mom’s closet some more, which could be a nightmare.

  But when I slipped it on, it fit perfectly.

  I was on my way to the mirror when my mom knocked. “Can I see?”

  “Sure.” I closed my eyes, moved in front of my full-length mirror, and opened them.

  The dress was even more gorgeous than I’d imagined. I felt like Cinderella after her fairy godmother had worked her bibbidi-bobbidi-boo magic and turned her rags into a gown fit for a princess.

  Only my hair was more like Merida’s wild mane than Cinderella’s neat updo.

  Mom moved behind me and started smoothing it back as though she knew what I was thinking. “Maybe we can get you into a salon for the hair.” She managed to pull it back
and nodded. “And if we’re lucky, we can get you a mani-pedi. Oh, and then the shoes.”

  “I doubt you have glass slippers.”

  She laughed and shook her head, but when she gazed at our reflections, she grew thoughtful. “But I think I might have something else you can borrow.”

  She left my room and reappeared a couple of minutes later with one of her pageant crowns. It wasn’t the biggest one or the glitziest one in her trophy case. It wasn’t the one she’d worn when she’d competed in the Miss America pageant. This one was small and dainty, but it still sparkled as though it were made of real diamonds.

  She placed it on top of my tangled mop of half-dry curls. “I think this will add a nice touch, don’t you?”

  I studied myself in the mirror and had to agree. At least, once we’d tamed my hair into something appropriately formal. “Where did you win this one?”

  “It was from when I was crowned Homecoming Queen.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and gave me a little hug. “I heard Brett was named Homecoming King, and I figured you needed a little bling of your own as his date.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I did,” Taylor said with a yawn from my doorway. “In fact, I was the one who suggested you’d want that crown.”

  Taylor knew Mom’s trophy case inside out and loved to prance around in the tiaras when Mom wasn’t around.

  “You’re up early,” I said.

  “Spa day with Summer and Jolie.” Another yawn split her reply. “Facials, massage, mani-pedis, hair, makeup, etc. Summer’s mom’s paying for it all.”

  I wondered how much Taylor knew of Summer’s parents’ divorce. She’d never mentioned it, and I didn’t want to break Brett’s trust and share what he’d told me. “Sounds…interesting.”

  More like a day in hell for me, but I could see where Taylor would enjoy it.

  She gave me a smug smile and went back into her room.

  “Let me make a few phone calls to see what we can do with your hair.” Mom pulled out her phone and left me alone to admire my reflection one more time.

  The silver dress looked great, and the tiara was a nice finishing touch. I started to actually feel ready for the dance.

  My phone buzzed, and I checked the screen to find a message from Brett.

  Ride and dinner taken care of. Will pick you up at six thirty.

  That was fast, I typed back.

  I never canceled the reservations I made two weeks ago, he replied.

  I found myself laughing. Brett always got what he wanted, even when it came to a silly school dance. Maybe because he knew he was my only weakness.

  What color is your dress? he asked.

  Who said anything about a dress? I was going to wear jeans and a tee.

  Lexi…

  I laughed and typed, Silver.

  On it. See you tonight.

  The fluttering returned to the pit of my stomach. The Queen B* would be going to the dance with the Homecoming King.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Two limos arrived at our house at the same time, and Taylor and I had to wait by the front door while we figured out which one was whose. Brett and Cody each emerged from their respective limos, and they walked up the pathway together, both joking with each other along the way.

  Handsome didn’t do Brett justice. The dark suit gave him a James Bond kind of air and added to the rich glow of his brown skin and dark eyes. His hair had been slicked back, and somehow, he’d managed to squeeze his cast into his pants leg. He stood back and let Cody collect Taylor first.

  And when I stepped out, his breath caught, and I almost did a little victory dance. His eyes never left me as I approached him. “Lexi…wow!”

  “I’ll take that as I did okay for last minute.”

  Mom had managed to get me a hair appointment, and although I’d gone in thinking the stylist would pull my unruly curls up into some kind bun, she’d actually done the opposite. For the first time in my life, I had straight hair thanks to a Brazilian blowout. Well, almost straight. She’d left a subtle wave in it. It was sleek and shiny, and I left the salon feeling like a movie star on the red carpet. And when Mom pinned the tiara in place, I truly looked like a princess.

  Brett nodded and seemed to realize his mouth was hanging open. He shook his head and cleared some of the shock from his eyes. “Wow,” he repeated, and I couldn’t help but grin.

  The limo was packed with popular kids from our class. Summer. Sanchez. Ren. A few more kids I could barely stand. But once we got in, Brett pulled out a small box with a pale blue orchid corsage, and they all vanished from my consciousness.

  He held it out to me. “Think this will match?”

  I nodded and let him pin it to my dress. It was the first time I’d ever gotten flowers from a guy. The first time I’d ridden in a limo. The first time I’d gone to a dance. I was experiencing a lot of things for the first time with Brett, and I only hoped to experience more with him.

  Dinner was at one of those dark and cozy restaurants in Bellevue where we had a private banquet room all to ourselves. Brett placed us at the end of the table as though he worried my patience might snap if we were in the middle of it all, and I gave him an appreciative smile. The food was delicious. I just wish I could’ve said the same for the company. But every time Brett looked at me or touched me, I forgot about their narcissistic babbling. Maybe if Brett and I were still together for prom, I could convince Morgan and Richard to join us so I could at least enjoy some intelligent conversation, but for now, his presence made his friends bearable.

  And whenever I found myself sinking into the depths of misery, I turned to Brett and saw how much fun he was having with his friends. Tonight wasn’t about me. It was about him.

  When we got to the venue, we stood in line for pictures in front of a cheesy city skyline backdrop before making our way into the actual dance. The room looked like something from one of the 1980s movies my mom loved starring the girl with red hair. Balloons. Swags of stuff hanging from the ceiling. A corny DJ. Half-filled tables and chairs surrounded by a line of girls on one side and a line of guys on the other, each side seeming to work up the courage to ask someone to dance.

  While the rest of his friends moved onto the dance floor, Brett settled at one of the closest tables and immediately propped his foot up on a chair. “Sorry, but I’m not going to be much of a dancer, anyway.”

  “Fine with me.” I sat down with a sigh and wondered where I could get some spiked punch.

  “I know this isn’t the most fun for you, Lexi, but I appreciate you hanging out with my friends and not…”

  I arched a brow and gave him my best Queen B* “Don’t even go there” expression, which earned a laugh from Brett.

  “Well, not being all hard on them,” he finished.

  “I came this close a few times.”

  “I saw, but you seemed to rein it in.”

  “Only for you.” I snuggled closer to him and savored the warmth of his arm around my shoulders and the steady drum of his heart next to my ears. “My mom once told me that when you really care about someone, you’re willing to make compromises, and I knew how much you wanted to go to this dance.”

  “So you gave up on rule number three for me?”

  I grinned up at him. “I pretty much gave up on the rules after you showed me you had no intention of following them.”

  “Can you blame me?” He tilted my chin up with his finger, his eyes full of admiration, and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

  “Look at how cute you two are,” a familiar voice said behind me. “I knew you would make the ultimate power couple.”

  I pulled away to see Richard standing a few feet away with his date. Brett extended his hand to shake theirs. “Good to see you, Richard. And who’s this?”

  Richard wrapped his arm around his date’s waist and stared up at him with adoring eyes. “This is Sean.”

  Sean gave us a nervous smile as he shook Brett’s hand, then mine. He was every bit a
s cute in person as he’d been in photographs, but the way he glanced around the room told me he was as unsettled at the school dance as I was.

  Not that Richard would allow him to feel that way for long. “Come on and shake that cute little ass of yours,” he said as he pulled Sean onto the dance floor.

  Brett chuckled after they left. “I have a feeling Richard’s going to be the talk of the dance.”

  “Because he brought a guy?”

  “No, because of his dance skills. Look at him.”

  In less than a minute, Richard had managed to carve out a place on the dance floor in the middle of the popular kids and was showing everyone what he’d learned from watching too many episodes of So You Think You Can Dance. Sean hung out on the periphery, but Richard’s infectious enthusiasm soon wore off on him, and he joined in the fun.

  As the night wore on, people stopped by our table to chat with Brett, and when they left, we talked alone. As the night wound down, I was surprisingly glad I’d come to the dance.

  When the DJ announced the final song of the night, Brett stood up on his crutches and held out his hand. “Think you can manage one slow dance with me?”

  “Think your ankle can handle it?”

  “As long as you don’t purposely try to stomp on my foot every ten seconds.”

  I gave him a devilish grin when I took his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor. Brett wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him as the first notes of the banana pancake song played over the speakers.

  “I had Richard deliver a special request for me,” he murmured.

  “I couldn’t think of a better song.” Because it was our song.

  Because of his broken leg, we couldn’t do much except sway to the music. But I pressed my cheek against his and committed each perfect moment to memory. The hard muscles that rippled under his suit. The possessive firmness of his hand against the curve of my back. The sexy clean yet spicy scent that always seemed to surround him. The soft murmur of his voice as he sang the lyrics of the song to me.