Don't Kiss the Quarterback: Billionaire Academy YA Romance Book 5

by Catelyn Meadows

  It will either make me a laughingstock or—

  Nope. There was no or. Knowing my luck, someone would record it and my shame would go viral and everyone would comment with derision and little laugh-y face emojis. And if I couldn’t sing to Tate on a dare, kissing him was definitely out of the question.

  Chapter Five

  I spent the majority of the night pacing my dorm. My head stubbornly contested against the idea of serenading my stuck-up stepbrother in the middle of the football field after practice—the only time I could be sure to find him semi-alone, seeing as how I didn’t know where he was currently staying. But my heart wouldn’t seem to relent. This inner voice inside of me kept insisting Camryn was right.

  I’d spent my entire life in chickenhood. Cowardice and back row seating were my preference. I was happy keeping my head down and my nose clean. No one here knew me, and unless I did something out of the ordinary, no one would. After having a friend like Camryn—a best friend who listened and cared about me—I wasn’t satisfied with being so alone anymore. I wanted a friend here too. Did that mean I expected Tate Ingram to fill the position?

  Not a chance. The truth was, I would be using him to test my courage. Part of me knew I could start small, but all throughout today I hadn’t had the guts to approach any of the girls here. I sort of knew Tate. We’d talked on the way home from our parents’ house and he’d even been decent enough to open my door before I got into his truck. His stuck-up jock stereotype couldn’t be all there was to him.

  I sorted through my mental catalogue of music and picked a perfect song—a love ballad by the queen herself, Miss Swift, just to irritate him. This wasn’t for Tate, not really. If things went the way I hoped they would, Carson Bedford would also be there. Though I’d be singing to Tate, the song would be for Carson.

  Classes passed by the next day, and I went to my first ever practice room session. I followed the new warmups Professor Granger gave me and was able to reach higher notes than I’d ever managed on my own before.

  By the time I left my session, my voice was warmed up. My confidence could rival the cottony, white clouds in the sky, and I clung to that as I made my way past the dorms and to the massive football and track stadium.

  I could do this.

  Football fields and I weren’t exactly well-acquainted. I stood near the massive, white pitchfork marking the end zone and allowed the field to swallow me. Its springy, green padding, marked with thick white yard lines, expanded like a small city without houses. The field was restrained by bleachers for the opposing teams on either side. Shorter benches hugged the field’s edge.

  The team was gathered on one of these benches, being lectured by their coach. Several hunched forward and stared at their feet, but Carson, glorious and godlike, inched in the coach’s direction, fingers together, drinking in his every word.

  My heart had a little glitch. I shouldn’t care this much. I had Chravis back home, but that argument was losing its flavor fast. Besides, I would only be singing.

  The entire stadium made me think of the Roman Colosseum, only this stadium was flanked by swooping pieces of metal that towered behind the stands and hugged the entire arena.

  The musician in me wondered if they were for acoustics—like anyone could miss the rampant cheering, shouts, and screams of the teams’ fans.

  Near the other huge pitchfork, a pack of cheerleaders wearing the school colors of forest green practiced some pyramids, bending to heft one girl over and over, while a brunette I assumed was the cheer captain clapped and interrupted, offering advice I couldn’t hear from this distance.

  The coach sounded his whistle and the boys split, standing, high-fiving or pounding knuckles. Some meandered in my direction—or rather, the direction of the locker rooms.

  The cheerleaders perked their energetic heads in the boys’ direction like meerkats at the smell of bugs. Several left their pompoms behind on the green and trotted over to mingle with the team. My heart caught in my chest as the cheer captain made her way to Carson’s side. His smile stretched, and my heart sank. A guy like that was so out of my reach. I’d always fit under the too-shy-for-a-hot-guy category and Carson made other hot guys look like side dishes in comparison.

  Courage, Bailey! I told myself in stalwart, Frodo-like fashion, trying not to care that I was totally about to use Tate to make an impression on his teammate. No, not his teammate. I was still with Chravis. This wasn’t for a boy. This was for me, to help me find a friend, do something daring, to make the most of my time here.

  My attention shifted to Tate. From his walk and his casual, arrogant stance, anyone would think he owned the school. He was the kind of guy who got everything he wanted and who didn’t have to brag about that fact because the spread of his shoulders said it all.

  It wasn’t fair that one guy could have things so good. Looks, shoulders, dark hair shaved on the sides and swooped in all the right places even after who knows how long his practice was. I never would have guessed he’d be as down to earth as he’d been on our drive home from Dad’s.

  I watched him promenade toward the track one step ahead of his other team members as though letting them know they were good but not as good as he was. All the more reason to do this.

  I shouldn’t judge based on appearances, but did anyone else see anything different when they looked at him?

  Apparently, Charly did. She strutted forward, breaking from the pack of cheerleaders. By this time, I was close enough to hear the end of their conversation, but to my surprise, it was far from the gooey-eyed, let’s-go-make-out variety. Tate glowered at her approach.

  She curled her lip at him. Folded her arms. Strutted backward toward her sister cheerleaders, but she muttered some kind of taunt at him.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Tate said.

  “His truck was nicer than yours,” Charly said with a shrug, a hand on her hip. The girls around her chittered with mocking bursts of laughter.

  Her context clues made things clear enough, and adding insult to injury, her comment made Tate’s face turn beet red. He balled his hands into fists. An odd wave of defensiveness on his behalf swept over me.

  “If trucks are all you care about, then you’re better off where you are,” he said.

  Several others whistled. These two were starting to gather a crowd. I hesitated with uncertainty. Were they breaking up?

  This might not be the best time for me to step out of my comfort zone, but for some strange reason, it felt like singing to Tate would be doing him a favor right now. I didn’t like how small the girls were making him seem.

  Plus, I heard Cam’s voice in my head: “All the better. Show them who you are, Bailey. Step up there.”

  I bit my lip and stared at him. He was hurt by whatever was going on between them. This was some kind of faceoff, and I’d only get in the middle of it. Still, I braced myself. Tate had stood up for me to our parents. Camryn was right—I needed to do this, to prove it to myself if no one else.

  Carson stood off to the side, arms folded over his chest, smiling about something. The sight of him looking so amused at a time like this bothered me, but I brushed it off. I changed my mind—it wasn’t him I’d be singing to. It was Tate.

  In an instant, I changed the song I’d planned on singing. This time, I was totally going for Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble.

  I gripped my phone, remembering Camryn’s encouraging words. Take a chance. Stand out. Be you.

  This was me. It was time to show them all.

  Tate bickered again with her, shouting so loud people halfway across the field could have heard. “I’ll make sure not to waste my time again.”

  “Get over yourself,” she snapped, strutting off.

  Tate’s friends—including Carson—laughed in an awkward kind of way, like they didn’t know what else to do in this moment. I approached, walking through them as though they weren’t there. Tate’s brows lifted. His shoulders heaved. I could do this.

  “
What are you doing here?” he asked, a little petulant. I couldn’t blame him for that. Clearly, whatever just happened wasn’t cool.

  “Cheering you up,” I told him.

  The guys laughed again. This seemed to do the trick. Tate flipped his hair back away from his forehead, folded his arms across his chest, and parted his feet in a power stance. The entire team’s attention was on me.

  Heart drumming, I closed my eyes and imagined I was back in my five-by-five square practice room where the cinderblock drowned my voice from anyone’s ears but mine. Wind rushed through my ears. My lungs pumped, my chest heaving.

  The practice room wasn’t working. Instead, I pushed my mind away from here, back to a quiet night, to a silent walk, to soft snowfall and chilled streets. I listened, actively, ignoring every other distraction, filled with an acute sense of purpose.

  My lips parted and I began to sing.

  My voice swept across the sky. It danced from the tips of the clouds, surging through my skin. It fluttered within my chest, making my fingertips tingle.

  My heart fluttered, threatened to flurry right out of my chest, but I was going to finish my song. Taylor’s vindictive words seemed perfect for just this moment. A breakup; moving on to the next love in her life.

  When I finished, silence followed until several people whistled and clapped. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. The football field slammed into view. The cheerleaders had stopped and turned their attention back to me. While a few folded their arms in disgust, rolling their eyes, others smiled in pleased surprise. The entire football team surrounded me as well, clapping and gaping at me as if they just realized I was there.

  I did it. A smile swept over my face. Inside, everything in me lightened, filling with air, threatening to carry me from the ground. I was so exhilarated—I felt like I could fly. My gaze scrambled across the group, landing on Tate.

  Brows lifted, hands on opposite biceps, he swaggered closer to me. “I thought you said you didn’t sing in front of anyone else.”

  “I...decided to make an exception.”

  He licked his lower lip. “You’ve got some pipes.”

  I was frozen to the spot, fully aware of all the eyes on me, yes, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away from him. His direct attention made my body tremble.

  I expected Tate to shoot a glance back at the jeering cheerleaders, or at his teammates. But he narrowed his eyes and then strode forward. I was in the middle of coming up with a snappy remark about Taylor Swift when, without a word, his arms went around me, he lifted me to his chest, and planted his lips on mine.

  This time the applause roared. Whistles screamed; cheers filled my ears. Just like that, he was kissing me right in front of this crowd of kids I barely knew. His touch made me come alive. I’d never been held like this, coveted and craved. The dawn was in his hands; a new definition of life was in his lips. My skin tingled, my heart raced. I gripped his shoulders until he lowered me to the ground. And still, he continued to hold me as though we were boyfriend and girlfriend instead of new acquaintances.

  “Thanks for the song. That was amazing,” he said with a seductive smirk. He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb and then turned and strutted down the field with his pack of friends tagging along.

  A stream of cheerleading uniforms flooded around me.

  “Tate Ingram kissed you!” one girl with short, spiky hair said. “Tate! Charly is going to flip a lid.” She glanced around as if looking for Charly.

  Girls squealed and gripped my arms, asking me what it was like. How could I even answer that? I’d heard of the phrase “being swept off your feet” before, but I never—ever—considered it to be an actual sensation.

  “I—I don’t know,” I said honestly.

  Several more giggles followed. “You’re in a complete daze,” another girl said, giggling with her friend.

  That was true. I just had my first kiss, from a boy who looked like a supermodel on steroids. He’d swooped in, taking me over in a way I didn’t oppose in the slightest. He lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. Held me. Kissed me....

  Chravis never held me like that.

  All at once, panic swept through my system like a storm. Chravis! What just happened?

  A striking girl with dark hair and skin ambled toward me. She offered a hand. “I’m Jenn Adkins.”

  “Bailey Monroe,” I said, still trying to get my bearings.

  “That was some show you put on. You just sang to him. Out of nowhere!”

  I tucked my hair behind my ears, a swirl of both satisfaction and chagrin coursing through me. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Jenn smiled at me. She was beautiful, with big dark eyes, lovely cheekbones, and a pretty mouth. I didn’t know many cheerleaders, but she was probably the nicest one I’d encountered thus far. “I’m impressed,” she said. “You should sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ at our opening game.”

  My initial reaction to invitations like this almost slipped out. I was ready to deny the idea, to reject any and all thoughts of singing in front of people. But I’d just broken that barrier and wow, did it feel good. I couldn’t believe the courage surging through me. I wanted to, and I’d never wanted to do anything like that before.

  “I’d like that. Who do I talk to?”

  “I’d work it out with Principal Anderson. Or I bet you could talk to Coach Derek. I’ll put in a word for you if you want. I’ll probably see him before you will.”

  “I—yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” People weren’t mocking me. They weren’t shooting me down, calling me names, ridiculing me for doing something so outrageous. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone—and I didn’t disintegrate on the spot.

  Jenn started walking backward. “Look, I’m headed in to change, but friendly warning, I’d watch my step if I were you.”

  All my previous thoughts of victory rattled. “Why?”

  “Tate and Charly just broke things off earlier this morning, and she isn’t too happy about it. Then right after they argued about it, you targeted her man, and he went and kissed you like that in front of everyone, just to make her jealous. From the look on her face, it worked.”

  “I—” The elation flooding through me deflated quicker than a tire over a spike railing.

  He’d kissed me just to make his ex-girlfriend jealous? Embarrassment and shame washed over me in torrents. The victory I’d basked in for all of five minutes fizzled out. Of course. My singing wouldn’t have spurred a kiss like that. I folded into myself, hugging my chest, wishing a chunk of that mocking blue sky would break off and crush me in an instant. I should never have put myself out there. Not only did I have a boyfriend back home, but with Charly’s threat after my voice lesson, now who knew what she was going to do?

  Chapter Six

  Word about the kiss spread like a virus. I’d never been across the street from popular before, but suddenly all the girls waved me over to join them in the halls, to sit with them in the cafeteria, to give them advice with boys, to record YouTube videos or do dances with them on TikTok. They showed me replays of the kiss that had been spread around on social media.

  Guilt ate at me every time I saw the video. I couldn’t stop thinking about the boy I left behind in Idaho. Chravis was two years older than me; he’d already graduated from high school and worked as the manager at the local gas station. More than anything, though, Chravis was the first guy to ever pay attention to me. Serenade or no serenade, he saw something in me and helped me when I was in a new town. I owed him a lot.

  The biggest problem, though, was that Chravis and I never broke up before I left. Did I just cheat on him? I wasn’t the one who’d initiated the kiss, but I sure as heck enjoyed it.

  That very fact made it impossible for me to focus that evening. I needed some air, and the sunset blazing across the sky outside was calling my name. Grabbing my copy of “Fellowship of the Ring” and a sweater, I pushed through the door and out into the chilled twilight.

  The fres
h breeze stirred my hair. I inhaled it, soaking in the outdoors in a way I didn’t usually do.

  “Bailey!” a girl called.

  I turned toward the parking lot. Jenn waved at me as she passed between a pair of sports cars more expensive than I knew. Smiling, I joined her. She had also changed out of her uniform and strolled onto the sidewalk in a pair of jeans and a pumpkin-orange, long-sleeved shirt.

  “What are you up to?” I asked.

  “Just heading back to the school. Some of us on the squad went out for ice cream.” She fell into step with me.

  “Have you always wanted to be a cheerleader?” I asked. Talking to Jenn was much easier than trying to come up with anything coherent with Carson.

  “I love it,” Jenn said. “My mom was on the squad for the Dallas Cowboys before she met my dad, who was on the team. Sports are in our blood, but it’s not my thing to be on the teams. I’d rather cheer.” She gave a cheeky smile and lifted a fist into the air in demonstration.

  “Dallas?” I asked. “How did you end up here in Washington State?”

  We walked past an idling BMW the color of cerulean skies. I loved it.

  “My parents read about the school’s prestige,” Jenn said, glancing at the dorms. “They sent me here.”

  I instantly warmed to her even more than I already had. “We have that in common,” I said. “So your parents are still...”

  “Back in Dallas. I’ll get to see them Thanksgiving weekend.”

  I frowned. I couldn’t tell whether this was a happy thing or not. “Does that bother you to be so far away?”

  “Sometimes,” she said. “But this school is worth it.”

  I inhaled at that statement. “I hope so,” I said.

  “What about you?” she asked as we ran out of sidewalk and turned back the way we’d come. Several more students exited vehicles in the lot, and my insides went arctic. Carson was among them. And each of his arms was draped around a girl. The three of them laughed on their way toward the school.