Confessions of a Queen B* (6 page)

His gaze flickered over to her before turning back to me. “Okay.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. She finally saw where I was going with all this. “Yes, Gavin, I’d love to talk about philosophy with you any time.”

His smile tightened. Not a good sign. “Sure, Morgan. Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I gotta get back to work.”

As soon as he was out of hearing range, my best friend gave me a small squeal. “That was brilliant, Alexis. I’d much rather have him as my philosophy tutor than your dad.”

“Well, then, start reading so you have something to discuss with him.”

She bent back over her book, reading Plato with far more enthusiasm now that she knew it would get her something outside of the classroom.

I tried to focus on my own homework, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling I got from Gavin. He seemed more interested in me than in my best friend, and that always spelled trouble.

Chapter 5

“What does it take to get a letterman jacket? Athletic talent. Or, in the case of Benji Gapul, a $25,000 donation to the school’s athletic program, courtesy of Daddy.”

The Eastline Spy

December, Freshman Year

Thursday got off to a much better start. I was able to get a good night’s sleep without having a screaming electronic doll waking me all night long. I had plenty of time to shower and add some de-frizzer to my hair. And I wasn’t wearing any suggestive T-shirts (unless you considered the Batman logo suggestive).

Brett texted me to say he’d meet me at my locker for the doll handoff. I drove to school, my stomach doing little flip-flops of glee, anticipating that Brett would look as miserable as I felt yesterday.

No such luck.

If anything, the jerk looked better than normal.

Damn it.

He grinned and started unstrapping the carrier when he saw me. “Made it on time today, eh?”

“How can you be so cheerful after that thing kept screaming all night?”

“I’ve got the diaper-bottle-burp drill down. Once you have it, you’ll see it’s easier with babies.” He held out the carrier with the doll still strapped inside. “Should I help you put it on again?”

“So you can feel me up in the process?” He was so perfect, it was infuriating, so I had to find a flaw in him. In this case, it was turning his offer to help into a dick move.

“If that’s an invitation…”

Sure, if you want to
, that traitorous little voice in my head replied.

“It’s not,” I snapped, ignoring the rush of heat that flowed along the surface of my skin while I tried to navigate my arms through the confusing tangle of straps.

He raised both brows. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“I don’t need a man to help me out with something as simple as this.” Except somehow, I’d managed to put the carrier on upside down and was holding the doll by its head to keep it from falling out.

“May I please help you so we don’t both end up with Fs because you dropped the kid?” He came closer, that annoying bemused grin still on his face, and took the doll out of the carrier. “Just unbuckle it here, turn it around, and secure everything before you try to put the baby in.”

His finger brushed the area along my ribs when he pointed out where I should unbuckle it, and a delicious shiver raced up my spine. I hated my hormones sometimes, especially when they overruled my brain concerning Brett Pederson. It was screaming for me to run away before I made a fool of myself by drooling over him, but I ended up inching closer to him. I’d always thought his eyes were plain brown, but the sun streaming in from the skylight above revealed tiny flecks of green and gold in them.

And those eyes were fixed right on me.

“Yo, Pederson, you’re playing a dangerous game getting that close to her without protective equipment on,” Sanchez shouted from down the hall, ruining what had been a “moment.”

As if I was capable of having a moment with Brett.

“I’ve got it under control,” Brett shouted back before dropping his voice to add, “You’re not going to hurt me, right?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” He wasn’t backing away, so neither would I.

“On how pissed off you’re going to make me.”

“And how would I piss you off?”

He was baiting me. I knew he was, and yet I played right along with him. “Your existence pisses me off.”

“Is that all?” His grin widened.

The asshole was mocking me.

“Do I need to make you a list?” I shoved him back and adjusted the carrier, following his instructions.

“Maybe. How long would that list be?”

I snatched the doll back and tucked it away. “Not worth my time.”

I’d barely made it ten feet before Richard fell into step beside me. “Okay, what is going on between you two, because that was some serious tension?”

“The only tension between us is the one in my arm that’s keeping me from slapping that arrogant little smirk off his face.”

Richard pretended to cover his mouth, mimicking a shocked expression. “Oh my God, you’ve progressed to violent thoughts. Do we need to schedule an intervention at the fro-yo place this afternoon so we get all that hostility out over a cup of mocha chocolate chip?”

“No, thank you.” I liked my hostility right where it was. It was the only thing keeping me from admitting that yeah, maybe I was slightly attracted to Brett.

I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Summer looping her arm through his. The message was as clear as day. He was hers, and I had no chance in hell of ending up with someone like him.

Not that I’d want to. It would mean I’d have to be nice to Sanchez and the rest of the team.

But that didn’t keep me from thinking about how things might be different if we weren’t in this tiny microcosm of hell called high school.

***

I stiffened the moment Brett slid into the chair next me, Richard’s accusations still whirling around in my mind.
Go to that angry place. Go to that angry place.

But he shifted ever so slightly, sending a current of his scent toward me. I breathed him in and crumbled. Who was I kidding? Brett was like one of those addictions that needed its own twelve step program. The first step was admitting you have a problem.

Hi, my name is Alexis Wyndham, and I have the hots for the quarterback.

I could just imagine a chorus full of girls from this high school answering back, “Hi, Alexis.”

At least I wasn’t alone with infatuation.

Because that’s all it really could be, anyway. The Queen Bitch and the Football King had no business being together. It might trigger some space-time continuum implosion.

Mr. DePaul dimmed the lights and started another PowerPoint presentation, his voice wry with an undercurrent of resentment. “I think this topic belongs in your Econ curriculum, but I was allowed to give you the safe sex lecture only if I agreed to give the following talk about the costs involved in raising a child. I suppose it’s the school board’s hope that once you see how expensive real kids are, you’ll wait until you have a stable job before having any.”

I only half listened as he droned on and on about things like diapers and saving for college. It was stuff my parents worried about, not me. Just one more reason to keep my legs crossed. If I don’t give up my V card, I won’t have to worry about having a real baby strapped to my chest and screaming at all hours of the night while deducting from my book budget.

The lecture was just coming to an end when Mr. DePaul went to his desk and clicked something. My computer pinged, announcing the arrival of a new email in my school account.

“If you check your inboxes, you’ll find tonight’s assignment,” Mr. DePaul said in such a way, I almost expected him to roll his eyes. “Consider this just a taste of family budgeting.”

I opened the attachment in the email and scanned the instructions. “Diapers? Formula?”

“Yeah, those things add up.” Brett remained so nonchalant about it, I wondered if he’d even read the assignment until he added, “So, you want to meet up at Safeway after school and knock it out?”

“I’m actually done with school for the day.”

“So am I.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door. “Want to meet me there in fifteen minutes?”

Oh, crap. It was one thing to be seen with him at school. At least it was all under the confines of this class. But out of the classroom? And in a place where I’d be in danger of exposing my go-to stress eats by stocking up on Cheetos and mocha fudge ripple ice cream.

“Yoo-hoo? Lexi?” Brett asked, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Don’t call me that.” I slammed my laptop closed and stuffed it in my back. “I’ll meet you there so we can get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“See you there.” He waved and walked to where Summer was waiting for him by the door.

Shit! How much of our conversation had she overheard? I just hoped she wouldn’t insist on tagging along. If she did, I’d let Brett complete this assignment on his own. I had a daily bullshit limit, and he’d already reached it this morning.

Chapter 6

“After sneaking into the school cafeteria yesterday and taking a peek in the fridge, I will be dining off campus from here on out. Please note the expiration dates on the food in the picture below.”

The Eastline Spy

October, Sophomore Year

The damn infant carrier got tangled in my seatbelt as I tried to get out of my car. And who else would be nearby to witness it than Brett? Laughter filled his dark eyes as he rushed to my side to rescue me like I was some damsel in distress. “Hold on a minute, Lexi. Let me help.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And I don’t need your help.” I swatted at this hands while simultaneously tugging at the nylon belt wrapped around Junior. It was bad enough he insisted on calling by that name. I wasn’t going to offer him another opportunity to feel me up, especially since my treacherous hormones got some sort of cheap thrill from it all.

He stepped back, and after thirty seconds of graceless fumbling, I managed to free myself and Junior without tipping him out of the carrier and earning us both an F. I looked back at him, lifting my chin in defiance as I straightened the plastic doll that was quickly becoming the bane of my existence. “See?”

“Good grief, you’re stubborn.” He shook his head and headed toward the sliding glass doors of the supermarket. Without pausing for a second, he cut a direct path for the baby aisle.

It was all foreign territory for me. I stared at the neat rows of glossy diaper packages and brightly colored baby food pouches, and my heart immediately started pounding in the center of my chest like a base drum. I licked my lips. “Um, what were supposed to do again for this assignment?”

“Calculate a budget for the cost of Junior’s first year.” He rubbed the doll’s head like it was a pet dog. “This kiddo’s going to be expensive.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take diapers for example. He’ll go through about twelve of those a day for the first couple of months, then maybe get down to about six to eight a day by his first birthday.” Brett pulled out his phone and entered some numbers. “If we average it out the eight a day, he’ll go through almost three thousand diapers during his first year.”

I eyed the price tag next to a pack of Pampers, and my pulse quickened. “Diapers cost that much?”

Brett nodded and pointed down the aisle at the white plastic containers. “Wait until you see how much formula costs.”

I checked the price of it and immediately felt queasy. “Note to self: Win the lottery before having a kid.”

“Of course there are cheaper alternatives like cloth diapers and breast-feeding.” His gaze zeroed in on the center of my chest.

“Hey, eyes up here, remember?”

“What?” he said in mock innocence. His grin told me once again, he enjoyed getting a rise out of me. “You obviously have the proper equipment.”

“You know, why don’t I finish this part of the assignment alone so you can have a quick romp with Summer under the bleachers before football practice?” I pulled out my phone and started snapping pictures of the price tags for diapers, formula, and baby food. I’d figure it all out when I got home. Just anything to get away from him.

“What do you have against Summer?”

“Long story.” I picked up a jar of pureed green beans and wondered who would feed the icky green mush to their child.

“I have time to listen.”

He was standing so close behind me, I could feel the heat radiating from his body along the nape of my neck. I refused to believe it was a flush from anger or embarrassment or the attraction I was so desperately trying to keep in check. No, it had to be from him invading my personal space.

And yet, I didn’t want to push him away. At least, not right now. “It’s ancient history.”