Confessions of a Queen B* (5 page)

The granite countertop was no longer soothingly cold, especially after the rush of heat to my face. I lifted my head and massaged my temple with my free hand. “Not tempting enough.”

“Liar.”

Dammit.

“So are we on for tomorrow or not?” I asked, steering the conversation back to my original question.

“Definitely on! I’ll meet you there at two.”

Morgan hung up just as Junior started screaming again.

Chapter 4

“The 4:20 is still alive and well on campus, but only if you have a medical marijuana card. Just follow your nose to the grove at the end of the football field for your daily dose of vitamin THC.”

The Eastline Spy

June, Freshman Year

I was just dozing off again when my phone rang. I fumbled for it and answered with a groggy “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Brett’s voice, way too cheerful for this time in the morning, filled the airwaves. “Sounds like you had a rough night.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t say that, especially when I’m trying to schedule a time and place to take Junior off your hands.”

I lifted my head and cast my bleary-eyed gaze toward my clock.

I had fifteen minutes to get to school.

Shit!

“Alexis, are you there?”

“I slept through my alarm.” I jumped out of bed and shimmied out of my pajama pants while holding the phone to my ear.

Brett was laughing on the other end.

“Make it quick,” I snapped.

“Fine. I’ll meet you by your locker when you get here.”

That stopped me cold. “You know where my locker is?”

“Everyone in school knows where your locker is so they can steer clear of it. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up.

I raced around my room, grabbing the first clean shirt I could get my hands on, followed by a pair of jeans. Screw brushing my teeth. I was halfway down the stairs before I realized I’d left the doll up there. I ran back up, snatched the doll from my desk, and ran back downstairs just in time to see Taylor getting into an Audi A4 with gaudy bright teal rims. The car peeled off like the driver was auditioning for one of those drift racing movies.

Must be a guy with a small penis.

At least it meant I wasn’t going to be held up because of a makeup emergency today, even though I was worried about my sister making it to school alive.

Parking was a nightmare because I was getting to school so late. I squeezed my Prius into a spot so tiny, I had to hold my breath to get out of the car. If I had a dent in my door by the time I left, I wouldn’t be surprised.

The first bell rang as I was running through the front door.

Damn it! I’d never been late to class. Ever. I dashed down the halls to my locker, fully expecting to be stuck with the doll until fourth period, never imagining Brett would’ve waited for me at the risk of being late himself.

And yet, there he was, leaning against my locker with a cup of coffee.

He grinned at me. “Good morning, Lexi.”

“Shut the hell up and take the doll.” I shoved it toward him and entered in my combination.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed.” He held the cup under my nose, the calming scents of vanilla and hazelnut soothing my ire. “Care for some coffee?”

I took the cup and tasted it. It was perfect. The last of my anger melted away to the point where I almost liked Brett.

Almost.

“How did you know what I usually get?”

“All I had to do was give the barista your name, and she knew exactly what you’d want.” He reached into my bag and retrieved the carrier, slipping it on with enviable ease. “It seems you make quite an impression wherever you go.”

I took another sip of my coffee to keep from telling him to piss off. It required too much energy, I told myself, when in truth, I figured I could let him off this one time since he waited for me while bearing gifts. “Why did you get me coffee?”

“Because you sounded like you needed it.” He pointed to my mirror. “By the way, you might want to do something with your hair. You look like shit.”

I knew I’d forgotten to do something this morning. One glimpse of the frizzy mess on top of my head, and a new wave of panic rose into my throat. I dug around my bag to find the hair tie I kept on hand for just such emergencies. A minute later, I’d managed to pull my hair up into a somewhat tame bun.

Brett remained right by my locker, looking at my shirt with a bemused grin.

Uncomfortable warmth crawled up my neck. “What are you waiting for?”

“We’re already late, and you still haven’t given me the bottle for Junior here.”

I pulled it out of my bag, grateful I’d remembered to put it in there during the morning insanity. “Is that all?”

“For now. Love the Monty Python quote, by the way. Very appropriate.” His grin widened. “See you in class.”

He turned around and continued on to whatever he had for first period.

I glanced down at the shirt I’d put on this morning and groaned as I read it. “Huge Tracts of Land.” Lovely. At least he got the reference.

I pulled my emergency hoodie from my locker and zipped it over the quote emblazoned across my chest before heading to class, armed with my large nonfat vanilla hazelnut latte.

By the time fourth period rolled around, I was feeling more like a human being. And as much as I hated to admit it, the coffee helped. When Brett slid into the seat next to me, I mumbled my thanks.

“What was that?” He leaned closer, giving me a good whiff of him.

Yummy
, I think was what Morgan called him. I was beginning to agree, at least on some accounts.

“I said thank you for bringing me coffee.”

“No worries.” He waved the doll’s arm at me. “Junior here hopes you’re less grouchy now.”

“I’m only running on about seventy percent bitch level at the moment. That doll is the spawn of Satan, by the way. It kept screaming every two to three hours last night.”

Brett nodded. “Just like a real baby.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope.” He opened up his laptop to begin taking notes. “Try having twins.”

“I’d kill myself.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure my parents considered that from time to time, but they made it through okay. My sisters are now four.”

“You have twin sisters?”

“Yep. Best birds and the bees talk my parents could’ve ever given me. I’m so not ready for kids.”

At least that explained why he was so laid back with this whole fake baby thing. “Just make sure you don’t breed with Summer,” I said, remembering my conversation with Morgan yesterday.

He turned to me, his brows bunched together and his mouth opening to say something before Mr. DePaul cut him off by jumping into his lecture.

It seems the school board did approve the safe sex lecture because today’s PowerPoint was all about STDs and how to use condoms. I glanced around the room to see how many people were squirming in their seats, finally coming to Brett. He was calm and focused on the presentation, his fingers flying over the keys as he took notes.

Probably in preparation for this weekend.

I needed brain bleach every time I thought of him and Summer together.

The bell rang before I realized it. “So, should I bring you coffee tomorrow?” I asked, shocked I’d even offered to act like his personal secretary.

‘Nope, hate the stuff.” He snapped his laptop closed, the doll still strapped to his chest. “Thanks for offering, though.”

***

“He likes you,” Morgan said after I’d recounted the whole Brett-coffee incident from this morning.

“Or maybe he was just feeling sorry for me.”

She shook her head. “Guys don’t do thoughtful little things like that unless they’re trying to impress a girl or get her in the sack.”

“He’s dating Summer, remember?”

“Whatever.” She checked the clock on the wall. “It’s almost three. Gavin should be here any minute now.”

“You know when he’s working? What did you do—take a peek at the master schedule?”

“No, I just asked him.” Her eyes lit up as a lanky, surfer-looking guy strolled into The Purple Dog. “There he is.”

“Oh, let’s not be too obvious that you’re into him or anything, shall we?” I pretended to be reading while I watched Gavin set his stuff under the counter and put on an apron. His straight blond hair fell into his eyes, which appeared to be blue. His tee shirt bore the logo of Casual Industries, a popular clothing line here in Seattle, and it stretched over his muscles as he moved. He was laughing at something one of his co-workers had said. “Not bad,” I said once I finished my assessment.

“Yeah,” Morgan agreed, her voice all dreamy. “I can’t wait to get him naked.”

“Isn’t that moving a little fast?” Images from today’s STD lecture flashed in front of my eyes, and I shuddered. As far as I knew, Morgan hadn’t caught anything.

Yet.

She shrugged. “So maybe I’ll try going slow for once, see where it leads.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” I turned back to the Faulkner novel I had to read for my second-period AP English class. “Maybe you’ll be able to keep a guy longer than a week.”

“Maybe.” The way she said the word made it sound like she wasn’t quite convinced it was such a good idea. “By the way, can we call your dad to help me with my philosophy assignment? I have so much to read, and it’s so boring.”

“Why did you take the class?”

“Pre-req.” She held up the worn copy of Plato’s
Symposium
, the neon orange “USED” sticker marring the image on the cover. “I’d love the quick rundown on this, and if he was willing to throw in some topics for a paper, I’d worship your dad forever.”

“Don’t even go there. You know how my dad is with his graduate assistants.”

“Awesome book,” a male voice with a distinct Southern Californian accent said behind me. I looked up to find Gavin standing with his hands on the back of my chair. “I wore my copy out from reading it over and over again.”

He sounded like a stoner, but was obviously well acquainted with Plato. Must be a philosophy major.

“And what did you think of it?” Morgan asked sweetly.

“It’s about love.” Gavin let go of my chair and crossed his arms, sounding slightly more intelligent than before.

Morgan scribbled that down. “Like love between men and women?”

Gavin laughed. “Some, but there’s some really interesting passages there about homosexuality.”

Morgan sent me a panicked look that asked if she was chasing after the wrong type of guy.

I decided it was time to step in and save her. For once, the summers spent with my dad lecturing me about the great works of philosophy would come in handy. “Like Phaedrus’s argument for gays in the military?”

“Or Aristophanes’s tall tale about the origin of soul mates, babe.” Gavin pulled a chair up to our table, staring at the words on my T-shirt peeking through my half-zipped hoodie. At least, I hoped that was what he was doing. Based on the time he spent staring at my chest, though, I could safely say he wasn’t gay.

I pulled the zipper up on my hoodie, ignoring the little warning bells going off in the back of my mind. “But then Socrates comes and basically calls them all idiots.”

Gavin laughed harder this time. “Pretty much. Are you a philosophy major, too?”

Morgan was looking at us—or to be more precise, at Gavin looking at me—and frowning.

“My dad’s a professor of philosophy.” Time to divert his attention back to my best friend before I received a swift kick under the table for monopolizing the conversation. “Morgan is still undeclared, but she’s leaning toward philosophy. Perhaps you can suggest some of your favorite works.”

I immediately got the “what the hell are you doing” look from her.

“It’s like asking me to pick a favorite wave on the North Shore of Oahu.”

“Just a few suggestions, then, ‘to fondle the interest in a potential lover of philosophy,’ ” I replied, quoting a line from Plato’s
Symposium.

He paused, and then tapped Morgan’s book with a wider grin. “Ah, Socrates, nice.”

And now we were back to the “shut the hell up around the guy I like” glare from Morgan. I squirmed in my seat, feeling a little bit too warm under the intensity of their heated attention. I got the distinct impression Gavin was flirting with me, and Morgan was getting pissed off. I longed to shed my hoodie, but I didn’t want to flaunt my “Huge Tracts of Land” and make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Gavin started rattling off some of the well-known classics: Aristotle. Augustine. Thomas Aquinas. Machiavelli. Descartes. Pascal. Hume. Locke. All stuff covered in a Philosophy 101 class.

When he finished, I said, “All classics. Perhaps you’d be willing to discuss some of them with Morgan as she reads them.”