Morgan looked up from the magazine and studied me for a second before her jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me.”
I shook my head.
“Oh my God! Your mom is pregnant? Like, for real?”
I nodded.
“No way!” Morgan was taking the news about how I’d expected—shock, disbelief. And she was my best friend. “Have you met the guy?”
“Yeah. He seems decent enough, but he lives in Kirkland. I’m just praying the kid doesn’t arrive until after graduation. I refuse to move.”
She folded her hands over her stomach. “I couldn’t imagine if my mom told me she was pregnant now. Not that she would ever go there. She had a combo tummy tuck and boob lift a few years ago, so I know there’s no chance of her ruining her plastic surgeon’s artwork for another kid.”
“Pete’s a plastic surgeon.”
Her mouth fell open again. “Pete? And he lives in Kirkland? As in Dr. Peter Galetti?”
“I don’t know his last name.” That sounded wonderful. Yeah, my mom’s knocked up and about to marry this guy, but I don’t even know his full name.
“If he is who I think he is, he did my dad’s face-lift.”
“Which I still can’t believe he did.” Morgan’s parents both chased after the fountain of youth as though it would help them land bigger clients.
“If your mom invites my parents to the wedding, talk about awkward…”
One more reason to dread this wedding.
“Please, let’s talk about something else or get started on our homework or…”
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. It will help kill the time until we can get Richard’s juicy gossip.”
She ran out to her car to get her books while I pulled out my laptop and wondered if my life would ever get back to being normal again.
Chapter Eighteen
Richard ran into the frozen yogurt shop a few minutes after five with two bright spots of color in his cheeks. “Seriously, this has been the craziest day ever. I need two bowls of fro-yo to deal with it.”
He spent the next three minutes swirling a mound of mango yogurt in one bowl, chocolate truffle in the other, and topping each one with so much stuff I wondered if he’d be able to fit into his outfit for the Homecoming dance.
When he brought them to the table, Morgan raised a brow. “Keep eating like that, and you’re going to be the size of Fata Tauaalo.”
“Size is what makes Fata such a great team center. Three hundred pounds of him between our quarterback and the other team’s defense. Anyway, I’m stress eating for all of us,” he replied with a mouthful of mango yogurt. “Glad to see you two decided to kiss and make up.”
A teenage guy at a nearby table leaned in our direction with a lewd expression on his face.
I nudged Morgan and nodded toward him.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Sorry, there was no girl-on-girl action, sleaze ball.”
The guy’s face reddened, and he dumped what was left of his yogurt in the trash as he hustled out of the place.
Morgan laughed and banged her hand on the table. “Classic.”
“What happened?” I asked in an effort to turn the conversation back to the friend who needed to vent.
“What didn’t happen?” He shoveled a few more spoonfuls in before continuing. “First off, I get yanked out of first period by a police officer who wanted a deposition.”
“You know, you have the right to an attorney for those things,” Morgan said.
“Like I had time to hire one. It was bad enough having to have my grandmother present since my parents were already at work in Seattle, and she was the closest thing to a guardian they could reach. Of course, she didn’t understand why I’d been targeted since she doesn’t know I’m gay. The officer wanted to know about my locker and the notes I’d received earlier. And then he asked me if I wanted to press charges.” He finished the first bowl and stabbed his spoon into the second. “I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I wasn’t surprised it was Kelsey. I knew she had it out for me, especially after I made the team, but geez. If I pressed charges, it would be an open-and-shut case, and she’d be a convicted felon for the rest of her life.”
Which meant no Ivy League school for her. No good job. Hell, she couldn’t even vote if she had a felony on her record. I could understand the weight behind his decision and why it would stress him out. It was one of the reasons why I’d made my incriminating post password protected. “So what did you do?”
“I asked to speak to her, face to face. Apparently, once they unlocked your post and read everything, they had no trouble getting a warrant for her arrest, and she’d been sitting at the police station since they’d picked her up this morning from her house. So they drove me to the police station.”
Which happened to be across the street from Eastline in our little suburb.
“And I walked into the room and sat across from her in complete silence until she cracked.” A glow of victory lit up Richard’s face. “Can you believe it? I made Kelsey Buchannan crack. She was crying and begging me to forgive her, and I just sat there, soaking the irony of it all in. A gay guy held her future in the palm of his hand.”
“Sounds like someone’s on a little power trip,” Morgan murmured to me.
“But oh, what a power trip.” Richard chuckled and ate a few more bites. “Anyway, I sat there, thinking long and hard about my decision and decided to show Little Miss Conservative Christian Values a thing or two about mercy and forgiveness.”
“So you didn’t press charges?” As much as I loved seeing first-class assholes like Kelsey get what they deserved, my chest actually swelled with pride at Richard’s decision.
He shook his head. “I took a note from you and figured I would be the bigger person. So no orange jumpsuit for Kelsey, even though I think she has the coloring to pull it off. But when the cops brought us back to school, Principal Lee marched her straight into his office where he doled out his punishment.”
“Which was?” He probably let her off with a slap on the wrist. After all, he’d been in no real hurry to find the person responsible for trashing Richard’s locker.
“A one-week suspension, fifty hours of community service, an essay about tolerance, and…” Richard held his spoon up to the corner of his mouth and looked around mischievously before whispering, “She was kicked off the debate team.”
“Really?” I exchanged surprised glances with Morgan. Kelsey lived and breathed for the debate team. For her, getting kicked off must’ve been right up there with going to jail.
Richard nodded and ate the last bite of the chocolate yogurt. “I heard it from Ajay himself. Seems he got together with Mrs. Rothstein and decided that Kelsey was bad for the team’s image, and they booted her off. Then he offered to give me a little one-on-one time to groom me to take her place as his co-captain.”
I could definitely see Richard enjoying those one-on-one sessions.
“And Sean doesn’t mind that?” Morgan asked.
“First off, Sean and I just started seeing each other, so he has no claim on a hot commodity like me. Second, until Ajay comes out, I’m going to assume he’s not interested in me or any other guy and keep my fantasies to myself. Besides, I’m going to have to step up my game for the debate team now that Kelsey’s gone, so these sessions are unfortunately going to be strictly business.” Richard stacked the empty bowls and tossed his spoon into them. “So, did I miss anything with you two?”
“We made up,” I answered. I’d let Morgan tell him the truth about Gavin when she was ready to, if ever.
“And Alexis’s mom is getting married in December.”
Richard grabbed the edges of the table. “She is? Can I come?”
“Sure. I’ll have Mom add you to the guest list for this crazy train.”
My best friends laughed, and I laughed along with them to hide my insecurities. I wish I could share in the joy, but deep inside, I dreaded the happy day.
As the conversation drifte
d to Homecoming, though, a new worry rose into the center of my mind, and I found myself worrying about Brett again. Would the hoopla tomorrow and Saturday jerk him from his pity party? Or would it remind him of everything he’d lost? And if so, what could I do to cheer him up?
Chapter Nineteen
The entire way to Brett’s house the next morning, Taylor whined about having to walk to get a ride to school, so by the time I knocked on his door, I was already in a grouchy mood. The fact he was still throwing around his pissy attitude as he swung past me to his SUV didn’t help make my Friday morning any better.
“Let’s go,” he muttered.
“I seriously need to get my license,” Taylor added as she climbed into the backseat.
And I needed to count to ten before I got in the truck because one (or both) of them might not make it to school without feeling the sting of the Queen B*’s wrath. It had been a while since I’d unleashed my full powers on someone. Being around Brett had caused me to lose my edge in favor of compassion. Maybe I’d been too nice.
Maybe I needed to return to the person I’d been before.
I didn’t even get a thank-you from either of them once we got to school. They both bolted from the SUV and took off in their respective directions. I didn’t bother chasing after them. One or both of them would need a ride home later, and I held the keys.
Without Brett by my side, I was back to being the most feared girl in school. My post yesterday followed by Kelsey’s suspension and removal from the debate team reminded the Eastline students of what I could do and that none of their secrets were safe. They lowered their eyes and looked away—either out of fear or out of respect—as I passed through the halls. A few weeks ago, I would’ve reveled in their response.
But now, it reminded me that I was very alone.
The hallways buzzed with talk of the Homecoming game tonight, of the dance tomorrow, and the candidates for the Homecoming Court. I didn’t care. Summer was going to get the crown, and that was fine. Let her have it. It was nothing more than a stupid high school tradition I wanted nothing to do with.
And with Brett being as antisocial as he’d been the last two days, I wouldn’t have to worry about Summer trying to cozy up to him at the dance.
I’d grown used to seeing Brett at my locker, but when I turned the corner, I found a very different football player waiting for me.
Angel Sanchez.
He leaned against my locker, completely blocking it in a way that signaled he wouldn’t leave until he’d delivered his message. He greeted me with a brisk nod. “Wyndham.”
“Sanchez.” I mirrored his posture, crossing my arms and cocking my head slightly to the side as though he were some riddle I had to figure out. Which wasn’t far from the truth. “What?”
“What’s going on with Brett?”
“Beats me.” I reached for the padlock, but Sanchez shifted to cover the lock with his body.
“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”
“Supposedly.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “He’s totally skipped on the team.”
“He’s hurt.”
Sanchez shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Brett’s the captain. Injured or not, he should still be part of the team. And before yesterday, I never thought he’d ever blow us off for any reason.”
A hint of accusation laced his words, as though I were the one to blame for Brett’s behavior. “I tried to get him to stay yesterday, so don’t look at me.”
“Maybe so.” He pulled back and gave me a once-over. “But for some weird reason, you’re the closest one to him now, so maybe you can pass my message on to him. Even though he can’t be out there on the field with us, he’s still needed on the sidelines.”
Sanchez gave me the same rough slap on the shoulder he’d give to one of his teammates and sauntered down the hall.
Great. I was officially on the same side as Sanchez. Add that to the list of things I never thought would happen in a million years. It was right up there with the extinction of cheesy boy bands.
Throughout the morning, I carried the small hope that Brett would be back to his normal self by fourth period. Instead, he seemed even grouchier. He was worse than my sister when she was grounded and couldn’t go to the mall, if that was possible. He came into the classroom with a scowl on his face, completely ignoring Sanchez and his friends, and threw his backpack on our table.
For a split second, I saw a bit of myself in him. His hard expression told everyone to piss off, and the cold glare dared them to try and approach him.
“Gee, having a bad day?” I asked under my breath.
“I just want to get through class and go home.”
“You don’t even want to stay for the pep rally this afternoon?”
He didn’t answer me. Even though sweat beaded his forehead and his face seemed tight with pain, I knew there was something more to his mood than what he was telling me. And instead of paying attention to Mr. DePaul’s lecture, I brainstormed ideas on how to get him to open up to me. Short of taking a page from Summer’s book and offering him a blow job, the only other thing I could think of was to confront him in a place where he couldn’t escape until he either blew up at me or broke down. I’d risk our relationship by doing that, but if it helped him get over his pity party, then I’d do it.
When the bell rang, I got one step ahead of him and didn’t stop until we reached his truck. I didn’t need to worry about checking to see if he followed me. The steady streams of “Hey, Brett,” along the rhythmic clank of his crutches behind me told me he wasn’t far away. I opened the passenger door for him, once again not getting a thank-you, and drove out of the parking lot.
But instead of heading home, I pulled off the lake road into one of the little parking spots next to the trail and turned off the engine.
“What are you doing, Lexi?” Brett asked with a hefty dose of exasperation. “I want to go home.”
“Not until we clear the air about a few things.” I unbuckled my seatbelt to face him. “You’ve been a complete asshole the last two days, and I want to know why.”
“I told you. I’m tired, my ankle hurts, and I have a ton of work to do.”
“Bullshit.”
He leaned his head back and rolled it to the side so he was looking out the window instead of at me. “Lexi.”
“Talk to me, Brett.” I threw the keys into the back cargo area. “We’re not leaving until you come clean.”
“Damn it!” He tried to grab his crutches, but I tossed them over the backseat.
“Do I need to pin you to the seat and use extreme measures to wrestle answers from you?”
That sexy gleam appeared in his eyes when he finally looked at me. “What kind of extreme measures?” he asked in a tone that told me exactly where his mind went with that suggestion.
“Hornball!” I flung my arm out to smack him in the chest, but he managed to block my blow and pull me closer to him.
I knew what I had to do. I had to remind him of how much he meant to me, of how much I wanted him. So I kissed him. I wasn’t trying to seduce him or tell him that I’d sleep with him. I just held on to him until his shell crumbled. This was a battle of wills, and the Queen B* refused to accept defeat.
And then, the most wonderful thing happened. He kissed me in a way he hadn’t in days. It was playful and sexy and full of the joie de vivre I’d come to love about him.
He was smiling by the time the kiss ended. “Just checking!”
“Why do guys immediately think of sex?”
“Because we’re raging balls of testosterone who can’t get enough of getting off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pervert.”
“Nope. Just being honest.” He leaned toward me with one brow cocked higher than the other. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
At least I was making some headway. Now, to keep moving forward. “Why are you blowing off the team?”
“
What makes you—”
“I know something has to be wrong in the universe for Sanchez to come to me for help, but he did this morning. He asked me to let you know that the team still needed you. So, what’s really eating away at you?”
“Since you apparently have all the answers, what do think is eating away at me?”
“I don’t have all the answers.” I crawled across the center console and straddled his lap, poking my finger into his chest with every other word. “Newsflash, Golden Boy, I have problems too. My mom is pregnant and rushing to the altar to marry this guy I hardly know. Morgan hasn’t been speaking to me, and you know what’s been going on with Richard getting harassed by Kelsey. So yeah, my life has been pure chaos, and you’ve only been adding to it. Do you know how worried I was when you got hurt? You got driven off in an ambulance, and you’ve been acting pissed off at me and the rest of the world ever since then. So I’m going to ask you one more time. What the hell is eating at you?”
He gulped, glanced down at my hand before coming back to me and then turning away. “This injury couldn’t come at a worse time.”
Yes! We were getting somewhere. “Why?”
“Because this is my senior year, Lexi. I had scouts from colleges all over the country looking at me. I had offers from more than twenty schools. And then some asshole from Skylake had to go and destroy my ankle.”
“Will you be able to play again once it heals?”
“The docs say I should.”
I turned his face around until he was staring straight at me. “What do you think?”
He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. Frustration added extra depth to his uncertainty as he finally said, “I don’t know.”
“They were able to fix it, right?”
“That’s what the doctor claims.” He nodded. “Although it will be a good three months before I can even attempt drills again.”
“But physically, the ankle should heal to where you’ll be able to play again.”
The Queen B* and the Homecoming King Page 16