My boyfriend. No matter how embarrassed I might have been a second before, I couldn’t suppress the joy that rose inside me when I called him that.
Mom studied him for a moment before saying in an overly calm and proper tone, “Nice to officially meet you, Brett. I would shake your hand, but I’m a little under the weather and don’t want to make you sick.”
She turned and hurried up the stairs without another word.
The worry gnawing in my gut grew too strong to ignore. I followed her, getting halfway up the stairs before I heard the retching that confirmed my mom still wasn’t over her bug.
By the time I got back to the table, Brett had already cleaned up after our lunch. “She okay?”
“I hope so. My mom’s not the type to miss work, and this is the second day this week she’s come home sick. Stomach flu.”
“She looks like my mom when she was pregnant with the twins.”
Brett maybe didn’t get the implications of what he’d just said, but his observations sent a shiver of fear coursing down my spine. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said more to myself than him. “My mom’s too old to be pregnant.”
“How old is she?”
I had to pause to do the math. “Forty-four.”
“My mom was forty-two when she had the twins.” He pulled out an e-reader. “I guess we should get to studying for real now?”
His gaze flickered up the stairs, and my cheeks burned. The last thing I wanted was my mom walking in on us.
“What are you going to work on?” I asked casually in an attempt to keep my mind from replaying how nice it had felt in his arms moments before.
“I have to read The Awakening for English. Care to offer some feminist insights?” he teased.
“Yeah, but I’m not doing your homework for you, Football Boy.” I grabbed my laptop and wandered over to the couch.
He laughed at our running joke. When we were paired up for our project in Hum-Ex, I’d assumed I would have to do all the work. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was determined to earn his grades and somehow managed to keep his GPA up, even with all the demands football placed upon him and despite his horrible essay writing skills.
“I would never ask you to do that.” He plopped down on the couch and placed his head in my lap, his feet dangling over the other end. “I just wondered what you thought about it since you’ve probably already read it, and I have absolutely no idea what women are thinking.”
“Says the guy who has three sisters.” I shifted my laptop to the arm of the couch to make more room for his head in my lap, which—I had to admit—was far more intriguing than the essay I was supposed to write.
“Yeah, it’s brutal.” But as much as he protested, he adored his sisters, especially the four-year-old twins. I’d witnessed him playing the part of doting big brother often enough to know Bitsy and Evie had him wrapped around their tiny fingers.
“If you ever need a place to hide out, my house is usually deserted.” As soon as I said it, I inwardly cringed. Brett’s house was warm and chaotic and full of energy. My house was pristine and empty, a side effect from the fact my family was rarely in it. We were always too busy with our activities that we’d never really been a family. But if the last couple of weeks were any indication, maybe we were working on fixing that.
“I know. I like it here.” He reached for my left arm and draped it across his chest before adding, “With you.”
Between the thudding of his heart under my hand and the glow in his eyes as he looked up at me, I couldn’t help but agree. I smiled and said, “Same here.”
He grinned and turned on his e-reader, not needing to say anything more.
I tried typing with my right hand, unwilling to unwind my left arm from his. I’d barely finished the second paragraph when a soft snore interrupted my thoughts.
Brett had fallen asleep.
I closed my laptop and watched him for what could’ve been a few minutes or an hour. Time didn’t really exist as far as I was concerned. Everything seemed so perfect with him lying beside me, his head in my lap and our arms entwined in a sweet half-embrace. A smile played on his lips, and his thick lashes cast shadows on his stubble-dusted cheeks. He was so handsome I couldn’t look away.
How on earth did I catch the attention of someone like him?
I pushed the question out of my head as soon as it popped up. I refused to wonder about those things. Brett had his reasons for falling for me, just as I had for him. We both pushed each other to be better people, but I also enjoyed the quiet times like these where his presence simply calmed me. I didn’t have to be cruel and hard around him. I could just be me.
“What time does football practice start?” my mom whispered from the doorway. She was still in her work clothes, but she’d pulled her hair back in another messy bun and scrubbed her face clean of any makeup.
I looked up at the clock over the fireplace. “Maybe in half an hour.”
Which meant I should probably wake him up so he could get back to school in time.
I gave his chest a gentle shake and murmured his name.
His lips twitched into a dreamy smile, and my heart melted a little more for him. I would’ve been content to let him sleep like that all afternoon, but between my mom’s watchful eye and the big game in two days, I knew I had to end his nap.
I shook him a little harder. “Brett, you’re going to be late for practice.”
He opened his eyes, and his smile widened as he looked up at my face. “Hey, beautiful.”
He reached up as though he wanted to pull me down into a kiss, but I flicked my gaze over to my mom in silent warning. He bolted from my lap when he spotted her. “Dr. Wyndham, um, hi.”
A giggle escaped me at his awkwardness. Brett always seemed so cool and confident that I never dreamed he’d stumble over his words in front of my mom.
I stood and handed him his e-reader. “I’ll send you a few notes later tonight.”
“Thanks, Lexi.” He placed a quick kiss on my cheek before grabbing his backpack. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Wyndham,” he added with a wave as he left.
My mom sat down on the edge of one of the stiff, formal wing chairs in our living room and crossed her legs, the very model of a lady-like posture. “He seems like a nice young man. Nothing like the guy you painted him to be the other night.”
“Yeah, that was all Summer’s doing.” I set my laptop on the coffee table and fell back on the couch. “But he is a nice guy.”
“Handsome, too.”
Something in the tone of her voice set off warning bells in the back of my mind, and I raised my hands. “Yes, Mom, he is good looking, but no, we’ve haven’t done anything other than kiss, and yes, I’m on the pill.”
After all, she’d left three packs of birth control pills on my nightstand last week after I’d dragged Taylor home drunk from a party. I got the hint loud and clear. Not that we were moving that fast anyway. I mean, yes, I liked the physical part of our relationship, but unlike Morgan, I wasn’t ready to get naked at a moment’s notice with Brett. I couldn’t even go to a school dance with him.
“Good. Then we don’t need to have the conversation that the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective and doesn’t protect against STDs.”
“Yeah, I have no desire to get knocked up.” I would’ve ended my response with a roll of my eyes, but Brett’s comment about my mom looking like his did when she was pregnant replayed through my mind, and I shuddered instead. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Just waiting for the nausea medication to kick in. You’d think I’d be over this stomach bug by now.”
“Brett joked about you having the nine-month stomach bug, but I told him no way. Age aside, you’re way too much of a safe-sex stickler to be irresponsible like that.”
With every word that left my mouth, she grew a shade paler until her face took on a sickly gray hue. Her breaths quickened, and she teetered on the edge of her seat as though she was on the verge of passing out.
She shot to her feet and ran up the stairs.
I paused, listening for the telltale sound of more puking, but minutes passed in silence.
Then heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs.
My mom still looked like she was about to puke, but she dashed by me and grabbed her purse in the kitchen. “I’ll be back later.”
Definitely not what I was expecting from a woman who’d been ill for the last couple days. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quiet that nagging voice in the back of my mind that maybe Brett was right.
There was only one way to find out.
I crept up the stairs, even though I knew I was the only person in the house. I was sneaking around and invading my mom’s privacy, after all. I nudged the door to her bathroom open and found the ripped box that had contained a digital home pregnancy test in the trashcan. My mom must’ve had a few on hand in case she suspected Taylor of being irresponsible. Why else would she have one?
But lying next to it in the trashcan was the plastic wand I dreaded. I used some toilet paper to pick it up and flipped it over to read the results.
The digital screen still displayed the word I couldn’t believe I was seeing, yet there was no denying it.
Pregnant.
Holy shit!
Chapter Six
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to wrap my head around it all. My mom was pregnant. Knocked up. Carrying the child of a guy I’d met just a few weeks ago. Which meant Pete would probably be hanging around more. Maybe even moving in. Or worse, making us move in with him. And let’s not forget the screaming baby that would be here in a few months.
Now I was the one wanting to throw up.
Life had been just fine before Pete showed up. I was actually making some connections with my mom and sister. We were on the verge of acting like a real family, not a set of strangers sharing a house. Now, he was threatening to ruin everything.
I was too embarrassed to talk to anyone about it. Not Richard. Not Brett. Not my dad—he’d probably crack a few lewd jokes about the situation. And definitely not Taylor. I could only imagine the shit-fit she’d have once she found out. She’d been the baby for fifteen years and still employed pouting and tantrums to get her way.
Guilt also kept me silent. I’d gone snooping around my mom’s bathroom, and I didn’t dare bring up the pregnancy test until she said something first.
The only person I’d feel comfortable mentioning it to was the one person who wasn’t speaking to me. Out of my two best friends, Morgan was the only one who could maybe explain why people lost their heads when it came to sex and—oops—forgot to use a condom. Because that was the only reason I could think of to explain my mom’s situation.
I stayed up past eleven waiting for my mom to come back before finally calling it a night. Even when I turned off the lights, I still tossed and turned over the news.
The next thing I knew Taylor was yanking my covers off. “Are you deaf? Your snooze keeps buzzing. Get up!” she demanded. “You’re the one who hates to be late for school.”
I blinked at the numbers on my clock several times, horrified when I realized how little time I had. In a mere ten minutes, I managed to take the quickest shower known to man, tie my tangled hair back in a ponytail, and throw on the first clothes I could find.
Taylor was already in the car waiting for me with her arms crossed and her lip curled in disgust. “You look like shit.”
“Love you, too,” I replied before starting the car and backing out of the driveway.
“If you’re going to be Brett’s girlfriend, you should at least take some pride in how you look and not embarrass him.”
Doubt shook my confidence and rattled my already unsettled mind. Brett liked me for me, not how I looked. But when I glanced in the mirror, I saw nothing but dark circles under my eyes and crazy hair. Would I embarrass him?
At the first red light, I turned to her and said, “Got anything that would help?”
She whipped out a tube of makeup as though she’d been waiting for me to ask. “I picked this up Sunday just for you. It’s a combination CC cream and powder. Lightweight, and no fuss.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I squeezed some on my fingers and managed to smooth it over my face before the light turned green. When I glanced up in the mirror again, I noticed the dark circles had almost vanished, and my skin had a nice glow to it. “What else do you have in that magic bag of yours?”
“This.” She held out a tube of lip gloss, followed by a mascara stick. “And this.”
I grabbed both in preparation for the next light and realized they were what I’d begrudgingly purchased Saturday afternoon before my disastrous date with Gavin. “Hey, where—”
“What? You bought them. I just thought I’d bring them along for an emergency. Besides, that lip gloss is so not my color.”
If I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn my little sister was looking out for me.
She opened the passenger door the second I pulled into a parking spot. “You’re on your own when it comes to the rat’s nest called your hair, but I did manage to stash your smoothing serum in your backpack. Have a nice day.”
She slammed the door and ran off to join Summer and the other cheerleaders before she was seen hanging out with me, but for the second time in less than a week, Taylor had come to my rescue.
It kind of irked me that I was actually caring about what people thought of my appearance, but I also didn’t want to cause Brett any grief, either. He was probably getting enough flak from his friends about dating me based on my reputation alone. I found the serum and ran it through my hair before pulling it back with a clip. Then I applied a coat of lip gloss and mascara before running into the building just as the warning bell rang. I’d expected to feel like I was hiding behind a mask of makeup or wanting to wipe it all off my face by the time first period was over, but once class started, I forgot all about it until I saw Brett in fourth period.
“You look nice today, Lexi,” he murmured in my ear as he took the seat next to mine.
Seriously? It was just mascara and lip gloss. But I smiled and turned to thank him.
The way he stared at me left me tripping over my tongue.
Or rather, the way he was staring at my glossy lips like he wanted to kiss them.
Time to remind him (and myself) of rule number two. “Down, boy,” I muttered, trying to sound gruff while deep inside, I wanted to grab him by the shirt and drag him to the nearest corner.
He rolled his eyes and fired up his laptop to get ready for whatever health-related lecture we were getting today, but I didn’t miss his amused smile. It was as though he knew exactly what was going through my head, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was coming up with some plan to take advantage of my weakness.
Of course, I doubted I’d say no to another study session at my house, provided my mom didn’t walk in on us. I’d seen her car in the garage during the morning rush, so I knew she was still home. That still didn’t keep me from worrying about the fallout from her situation.
You OK?
The instant message flashed across my screen, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a worried expression flicker across Brett’s face. Did I dare mention it to him?
Why?
Just getting a different vibe from you today, that’s all.
It’s called lip gloss :P
I like it. Even though his attention was firmly fixed on Mr. DePaul in the front of the room, a huge grin lit up his face. Any chance of me finding out if it’s flavored?
I jabbed him with my elbow, my cheeks burning. For all his virtues, Brett was still a seventeen-year-old guy.
Or, as he’d once put it, a guy with two heads but only enough blood to operate one at a time. And I had a good idea which one was in control.
But at least it was me he was lusting after and not the head cheerleader, even if I had frizzy hair and hardly ever wore makeup. Taylor’s comment about me embarrassing h
im resurfaced in my mind. No, I wasn’t as pretty and polished as Summer, but I hoped I wasn’t in danger of hurting his reputation more than I already had by being the Queen B*.
I reached up to smooth back one of my curls, and another message appeared on my screen.
I meant what I said, though. You do look nice today.
My cheeks continued to burn, but with more of a warm glow than embarrassment. The blush worked its way up from where my heart melted to the corners of my mouth, which curved into a smile accented by a silent sigh. Not many people even knew I had a mushy side, but Brett knew the quickest path to activating it.
Any chance the lip gloss is practice for next week’s dance?
Nope, I typed back, fighting back my groan. Would he ever let up about Homecoming? This is all an intervention by my sister.
I waited for him to say something like, “Remind me to thank her so my girlfriend didn’t look like a complete dog this morning,” but instead, he rubbed his chin and continued to pretend to be engrossed by the PowerPoint presentation on macronutrients.
His silence the rest of class unnerved me to the point that I jumped as soon as the bell rang.
Brett steadied me, his hand on my leg. “What?”
I opened my mouth to deliver some blasé excuse, but Sanchez cut me off before I could say a word.
“Hey, Brett, did you get my email?”
Brett’s attention shifted from me to his friend. “Yeah, and I wanted to talk to you about that before practice. Maybe over lunch?”
“Cool. I’ll save you a place at the table.” His eyes flickered to me, and his mouth twisted into a snarl before smoothing out into a thin line a second later. “See you in a few.”
The exchange gave me the perfect opportunity to divert the conversation away from the two things I didn’t want to talk about. “See? That’s a prime example of why I can’t go to Homecoming.”
“Sanchez?” He stood and grabbed my book bag, holding it up for me while I slipped the straps over my shoulders. “He’s actually trying his best to be civil around you.”
The Queen B* and the Homecoming King Page 5