“I’m shocked that Train Everly is reading that book,” Reagan said as we both froze, staring at the sexy quarterback, who had his head buried in the pages.
Ditto. Ditto. Ditto. I honestly didn’t know what to make of Train reading my mom’s book other than wondering how he knew. So he was coming onto me because of my mom’s erotica books.
“What’s wrong?” Reagan’s strawberry-scented shampoo drew me out of my funk.
If the cat was out of the bag, then I shouldn’t lie. I might lose both Elvira and Reagan as friends. But I wasn’t certain if I was ready for the school to know. Then again, Train might have blabbed the news already. “For one, Casey Stewart is my mom,” I barely whispered near her ear.
“Shut up.” Her pretty hazel eyes grew as big as damn basketballs. “Oh, I got to call my mom.”
I grasped her arm. “I get your excitement, and thank you for it. My mom is awesome. But I barely tell people, only because some can be—”
“Assholes,” she said. “Don’t worry. I got your back.”
A warm feeling covered me. It was good to know I had someone on my side. Now to deal with Train.
As Reagan began texting, I sat down and swiveled to face the boy who twisted my insides in a good, bad, and irritating way. “Is it a good book?”
Lazily, he flipped the page as he smirked. “The best. I see why you’re rather forward.”
My stomach knotted. “You’re judging me based on a book?” My suspicion as to why he had come on to me slowly became a reality.
He folded a corner of a page then swung his head my way. His lids were heavy, and his eyes were full of… something. “Not any book. Your mom’s book.”
If anyone in class was listening, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to break eye contact with Train. “Operative word in there—my mom’s. Not mine. How did you find out?”
“Austin tells me that you tried out for football to fuck with my head. How did that go for you?”
I knew he suspected the reason I had tried out, but suspecting and hearing the truth were two totally different animals. “I’m breaking barriers. How about you? Oh, wait. I got it. You’re reading my mom’s book to learn how to have sex. I guess I won’t be jumping your bones after all. I like a guy who’s experienced.” My mom could be quite graphic in her sex scenes.
A handful of students who were in their seats got whiplash trying to watch the exchange between Train and me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell all of them to mind their own business, hide in a dark hole, or brag that my mom was a New York Times best-selling author.
Reagan, however, giggled. “She’s right. You could learn a few things. It’s her mom’s best work to date.”
I loved Reagan.
Train shot daggers at her. She rebutted with more giggles.
“Hannah Montana, or whoever you are, stop making a spectacle of yourself.” His raspy drawl hardened. “It’s not pretty.”
I was conflicted. His harsh tone set off butterflies in my stomach, but at the same time, a pain stabbed my heart. I told myself he wasn’t trying to hurt me, but Elvira had said something similar last night. Nevertheless, I thought of unicorns and rainbows to stave off the urge to burst into tears. I wasn’t a crybaby. I could take anything thrown my way, or so I thought. His words hurt because you like him.
The bell chimed, breaking up our spat. Elvira breezed in and waved as she slid into her seat. More students spilled into the classroom, followed by Mr. Salvatore. I pulled out a notebook and opened it to a blank page.
Mr. Salvatore held up his hands. “Quiet down. I want to remind you that a preliminary report on your student project is due next Friday.”
I huffed. Train and I hadn’t even discussed what type of app we would create.
“Today, I want you to get with your partner and work on your projects. While you’re doing that, I’m going to list what I want to see in your report.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. I had to collaborate with a boy who wanted nothing to do with me.
Chairs shuffled around, creating a buzz amid the voices. I didn’t have to go far, although I was thinking of an excuse to go to the nurse’s office. But then we wouldn’t get anything done, and I could fail the class.
I slid my chair closer to him. That knot in my stomach was tighter than before. “We don’t have to like each other to work together,” I said. “You want a good grade. Right?” He had to want to pass the class. His dad had mentioned to my mom that his son was headed to USC on a football scholarship. “Let’s brainstorm. You write down some ideas, and I will too.” That way, I didn’t have to hear his sexy drawl.
He flipped his notebook open to a blank page and began writing.
I noodled on the question. What kind of app could we create that would help a college student or business owner? I thought of my mom and what her author business could use as an app. She had a website, which was a landing point for any of her fans that wanted info on her and her books.
Train waved his hand in front of my face. “Hey.”
I blinked.
The asshat smirked. “You want to throw yourself at me? That’s why you’re staring at me?”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Get off your high horse. Besides, it will be a cold day in hell unless you learn how to treat a lady.”
“Ladies don’t play football,” he said.
“Train.” My voice hardened to ice. “It’s clear we’ve got something going on between us. What? I’m not sure. And right now, I don’t care. We have a project to do, and I would like to pass this class. Don’t you have a scholarship to worry about?”
He narrowed his yummy sea-green eyes. “Fine.”
I slumped my shoulders. For rest of the class, we jotted down the notes that Mr. Salvatore had written on the whiteboard, and brainstormed ideas. Train came up with an app for oceanographers. I suggested an author app for my mom that would complement her website. He scrunched his nose at that. Then he suggested an app that could benefit his dad’s contracting business—in particular, an app to help consumers troubleshoot a problem with their air conditioning.
“Aw, how sweet,” I said. “You’re thinking about me.”
He brushed me off by checking his phone.
With a couple of minutes left until the end of class, I dipped into my bag for one of my acrylic markers, flipped to a clean page in my notebook, and started drawing. The act helped me to think.
Train stabbed a finger at my notebook. “What is that?”
I didn’t know if I wanted to tell him. But his tone was nice and not condescending. “It’s my signature. I use it on my artwork.” He didn’t need to know that all taggers had a signature on their graffiti, and my signature was the word “Spunk,” minus the u. I’d merged the letters S, P, N, and K into a cool design. Just looking at my design gave me the urge to find a large blank mural. It had been months since I’d tagged anything, and as frustrated as I was, I needed an outlet. The notebook wouldn’t be enough.
“S-P-N-K,” he said.
“Yeah, Spunk.”
He chuckled. I liked when he was nice like he had been for a brief moment when were walking along the golf course the other day.
When class ended, Train ran out as though he had to put out a fire. Elvira came over before I could get out of my seat.
“Can I tell her?” Reagan asked.
I shrugged.
“Montana’s mom is a big-time writer. She goes by the pen name of Casey Stewart. And Train found her mother’s book and was reading it in class. He’s screwing with Montana.”
I almost blurted out, “See? Train is trying to get in my head too.” But that would be catty. Still, I wanted to kiss Reagan for backing me up.
“Ah,” Elvira said. “Now I know why your mom looked familiar when I met her. I think my mom has one of her hardback books that has her picture on the back. How come you didn’t tell me then? Or why didn’t your mom say anything to me?”
“You know how people around here can get kind
of wonky about sex in books,” Reagan said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said. “My mom and I have been on the bad side of rumors and glares and fights with parents about what she does. Sometimes it’s better to keep her profession out of my social life. That’s why I told you she was in marketing. And she kind of is with her books, in a way.”
“That’s okay. What your mom does is none of my business,” Elvira said. “About last night, I wanted to apologize again. Are you mad at me?”
“Nah. You were only being honest, and you’re right.” I got out of my seat and hugged Elvira then Reagan. “Thank you. I haven’t had any girlfriends who stuck up for me.”
“Okay,” Elvira said. “What’s with the church-going outfit? It looks horrible.”
“I was trying to turn over a new leaf.” I didn’t think Train even noticed me, though.
“Don’t. And we need to go shopping.”
Mom had bought me a couple of pairs of shorts that I’d been wearing, but shopping did sound fun. And if the South was going to be my new home, then cute sandals were in order too. Suddenly, I remembered Lucy Everly’s brown leather sandals along with the debutante ball.
“Tell me about the debutante ball.” The way things were going with Train, I doubted he would even ask me to the ball. I was curious about the shindig, though.
Reagan and Elvira exchanged a giddy look. Then Elvira launched into a dissertation on the event as we headed to our next class. By the time we arrived at English, I’d learned that the ball was a rite of passage for the ninth grade girls who were celebrating their adulthood. The ball took the place of homecoming but was always scheduled for the Saturday after the last football game of the season, which was seven weeks away. And each year, Mrs. Everly hosted the ball.
“Simply put, the ball is a tradition,” Elvira said. “But in the last three years, Mrs. Everly hasn’t focused so much on a coming-out party but rather a charity event.”
“This year, I believe the charity she’s sponsoring is Feed The Hungry,” Reagan added. “All that aside, the event is fun. We get to dress up, dance, and have a good time.”
“Train’s mom wants me to go with him,” I said matter-of-factly. “But Nina thinks she’s going with Train.”
“Train won’t be taking Nina,” Elvira said, sure and strong.
“Tell that to Nina,” I said.
Nina and the ball became a distant memory when Derek stalked up to me with a smirk on his face. So far, I’d endured the looks and whispers of kids but not the team yet.
“Say it,” I said.
He covered his large hand over his mouth and chuckled. “I’m proud you stuck to your guns. We all know why you tried out. I’m proud to report that you are officially stuck in Train’s head. I’m also glad you’re not on the team. I would hate to see you get hurt by a big guy like me.” His sweet tone was a far cry from the way he’d acted when I first met him on the beach.
“So if we’re being honest, Derek”—I peered up at him—“you spurred me on too with the chauvinistic comment you made.”
“Now you know the reason I made it. Anyway, Coach wanted me to tell you to meet him in his office after school.”
I knitted my eyebrows. “For what?”
He shrugged massive shoulders. “Got me.”
I racked my brain, trying to drum up a reason. I was drawing a blank.
Chapter Twelve
TRAIN
I threw open the doors to the locker room. The school day had sucked the big one. I couldn’t wait to get my ass in my uniform and pound some heads at the football game later that night. Right now, I needed to find a bathroom stall and jerk off to release all the pent-up fucking energy I had, especially after reading a sex scene in that book, My Heart to Take. My mom read romance books, and I didn’t want to imagine if those were the kinds of books she read. I didn’t need to have my head buried in a book, either. I should have been trying to score some tits and ass.
I checked the locker room. All was quiet. So I locked myself in a stall and unzipped my jeans, when Austin and Derek’s voices trickled in.
“Yo, Everly,” Austin called out. “Are you in here?”
“I’m beating off. Go away.” My voice bounced off the walls.
“I just read that scene in the book you told me about,” Derek said. “I think I need to do the same.”
I grunted as I sighed. Then I zipped up my jeans and walked out. “Can’t a guy get some relief before a big game?”
Derek wagged the book in front of me. “This shit is good. Montana’s mom can write.”
“Go away and get that fucking book out of my face.” I stormed over to my locker and started undressing. We had four hours before the game, so a run around the track would do me some good.
“Dude, you’re not supposed to beat off before a game,” Austin said at my back. “We want you ready to explode for the game.”
I spun around to find Derek scratching his short brown hair as he read that book. Austin was leaning against a locker with his white-blond eyebrows lifted, almost waiting for me to unleash my anger on him.
I drove my hand through my hair. It wasn’t his fault that I was sexually frustrated and angry. Nina’s return had done a number on me, but the wordplay between Montana and me was hitting my groin and psyche.
“Man, Ms. Stewart knows how to write from a guy’s perspective,” Derek said. “Listen to this.”
I snatched the book from him and threw it in my locker, the sound exploding in the room. “Enough. We need to get ready for the game. The rest of the team will be here soon, and I don’t want everyone walking on the field with a hard-on.”
Derek grabbed his dick. “It’s too late for that.”
I changed into my running gear as Austin settled on the bench next to me. “Give in. Ask her out. Take her to The Music Farm tomorrow night. Skylar Grey is headlining.”
Not happening. “No girls this year. I’m going for a run.” If I couldn’t jerk off, then pounding my feet into the track would release some energy.
Derek untied his shoes. “Take Austin’s advice.”
I readied my headphones. “For the love of our football team, no. She gets under my skin.”
They both chuckled.
Derek waggled his thick, dark eyebrows. “You mean that you want her to be under your skin.”
I wanted a lot of things, but nothing more than to tear into her so she could cool the fire burning inside me. I clenched my jaw as I left them behind.
“Not everyone is like Nina,” Austin shouted.
Nina’s return had fucked with my head. Her cheating on me topped the list of reasons why I was cautious with girls, and for that, I despised my ex. I wanted Montana as badly as I wanted my USC scholarship. I couldn’t shake her long legs, nice tits, and the image of her in a bikini. I even enjoyed our sarcastic taunts and, more than anything, her spunk, as she’d dubbed her signature for her artwork. She had the balls to show up to try out even though trying out was a way to fuck with me. I’d smiled at her when she tried to kick the football. I hadn’t been mocking her but was proud of her for following through on her threat.
I wouldn’t make it past the weekend if I didn’t get laid or beat off. And since I’d given up on girls, beating off won. Otherwise, Coach would be right. I would have a hard-on twenty-four, seven.
Once on the track, I stuck my earbuds in and turned up the volume on my phone. “Broken-Hearted Savior” by Big Head Todd and the Monsters blared in my ears as I jogged slowly to warm up, trying to erase Montana from my mind. After one lap around, I’d finally rid my brain of the sexy girl. I sifted through plays for tonight’s game as the music blared. But as I rounded the track, Montana popped into my brain again. Not only was her body on my mind, but her words had been on repeat all day. “You’re reading my mom’s book to learn how to have sex.” I wouldn’t say I was learning, rather I was adding details to my repertoire and moves I would like to try on Montana.
The cheerleaders
practiced their routine on the field beneath the afternoon sun. The track was quiet save for the cheerleaders, but they were staunch in their work to make sure their routine was perfect, which meant they wouldn’t bother me. Reagan waved as I jogged by. I didn’t acknowledge her. She was as bad as Montana, goading me that morning in computer class.
Football plays. But as I made another lap around the track, Nina glided toward me. Holy fuck. She wasn’t a cheerleader. However, she did have friends on the squad. I ran past her as I picked up my pace, but she ran up beside me and wrapped soft fingers around my forearm.
Keep running. Walk away. If I did, I might drag her alongside, and that wouldn’t be good or gentlemanlike, no matter how much I despised her.
Nina wouldn’t let go. I spun around, taking one earbud out. “What? I’m in the middle of a workout.”
She twirled a strand of auburn hair between the fingers of her free hand. “I heard you’re taking Montana to the debutante ball.” Her tone was harsh.
I lifted my T-shirt and wiped the sweat off my face. “I am not going to the ball with you. We are not getting back together. When are you going to get that through your head?”
She dug her nails into my arm. “I want you back, Train. I can’t tell you how I screwed up. Please, give me another chance.”
Begging didn’t look good on her.
She might have thought she was inflicting me with pain, but it was just the opposite. Her nails in my skin were keeping me from losing my fucking shit. I eyed the cheerleaders, who were now watching intently. At least I had witnesses if I needed them. I’d known Nina a long time. She wouldn’t cry abuse, but she had changed last year into a person that I didn’t even know anymore. So all bets were off, and I wasn’t taking any chances. “Let go of me,” I said as nicely as I could.
She drilled her evil gray gaze into me. “You never wanted me to let go of you when we were screwing.”
“What do you want?” I knew what she wanted, and I only asked because I was a gnat’s ass away from pushing her.
“I want you to take me to the ball. We can start there. We had future plans together. Remember? College and maybe marriage.”
Breaking Rules Page 10