The Queen B* Strikes Back

by Crista McHugh

  Brett laughed. “Maybe you should hang around a bit longer next time. Maybe you’ll be the hit of the party.”

  “Hello? I’m the hardest, cruelest bitch in Eastline.”

  “No, you’re not.” His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket and melted the ice in my heart a little more. “If you were, you wouldn’t have rescued your sister.”

  “How do you always know how to make me feel a little better after a craptastic day?”

  “Just returning the favor.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile that formed from his reply. It was hard to believe that I could brighten up someone’s day, especially someone like him. “So, about tomorrow?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that. I have a meeting with some coaches in the morning.”

  “I can understand why. Congrats on shattering another record, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” he said with equal parts pride and humility. “But maybe after that?”

  “Sure, but I know my mom wants to officially introduce me and Taylor to her new boyfriend over dinner tomorrow, so I won’t be able to stay too long.”

  “Officially?”

  “Don’t ask.” A shudder coursed down my spine when I remembered walking in on them.

  “Fair enough. We’ll work something out. In the meantime, don’t worry about Richard.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Night, Lexi.”

  “Night.”

  By the time I hung up, I realized that just a simple conversation with him had shifted what had been an otherwise terrible night into something not so bad.

  One more reason I was falling hard for Brett Pederson.

  Chapter Twelve

  I woke up the next morning to a text message from Brett.

  In the U-District until noon. Meet up after that?

  I checked my clock. It was a little after ten, so I had plenty of time to get ready and take the bus down there. I knew better than to try and find parking in the U-District on a Saturday during football season.

  Meet me at the Purple Dog when you’re done, I texted back.

  The Purple Dog was a small coffee shop in the U-District that Morgan loved to hang out at. Or she did until last week. Personally, I was praying that Gavin the Douche Bag wouldn’t be working there today because I might have to rip him a new one if I saw him. That aside, it was a great place to study, and even better, it was public enough so I didn’t have to worry about our study session turning into something more.

  I was just about to hop in the shower when he texted back, Why not your place?

  One word: Taylor, I replied.

  Gotcha.

  I didn’t have to explain that we’d get no work done as long as my sister was here. She’d hang all over Brett and probably invite her friends (including Summer) over, and it would turn into a little mini-party instead of the intense study session he needed to finish his admission essay and prep for the SATs next week.

  The morning passed without a snag, and by the time I got to the Purple Dog, Brett was waiting for me.

  But he wasn’t alone.

  I vaguely recognized the guy sitting at the table. He’d graduated from Eastline a couple of years ahead of us, but Brett was chatting with him like they were old friends.

  Brett gave me a smile when he saw me that made my insides melt. I had no idea how he did it, but when he looked at me that way, I imagined I was some kind of starlet with perfect hair and skin and body that guys drooled over. In reality, I had none of those things, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. “Alexis, you remember Josh Feinglas, don’t you? He was on the team with me a couple of years ago.”

  The fact he’d been on the team meant nothing to me. The fact I didn’t readily recognize his name was probably a good thing, since it meant I’d never featured him on my blog. The fact that he offered his hand to me without a look of dread in his eyes was the best indication that the introduction wouldn’t be traumatic for either of us.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “The same, although I’m well acquainted with who you are. The Eastline Spy is infamous.” He shook my hand and gave Brett a brotherly squeeze of the shoulder. “I warned Brett to keep his nose clean after I left so he wouldn’t become your next target.”

  “Josh was the starting quarterback when I joined the team,” Brett explained.

  “Until I tore my ACL and Superman here took over,” Josh finished.

  If someone had usurped my position on the team, I would’ve hated my rival, not be hanging out with him like an old friend. But maybe that’s the difference between guys and girls. Or maybe it was just Brett and the effect he had on people.

  “I learned so much from you.” Brett thumped the center of Josh’s chest. “You’re the kind of leader I wanted to be, and I appreciate everything you taught me that year.”

  “Just trying to help where I can.” Josh glanced at me. “And I’m keeping you from studying. Good catching up with you, Brett, and maybe I’ll see you next week?”

  “You’re on.” Brett held out a chair for me and pointed to Josh as he left the café. “Man, I can’t believe it’s been over six months since I last saw him, and then, bam, I run into him as I’m looking for this place.”

  “It must be your lucky day.” I sat down and pulled out my laptop and a few books on writing essays.

  “Must be.” He grinned at me like I was part of his lucky day, and the roots of my hair grew warm. Once he sat down, he added, “This place isn’t bad.”

  “It’s quiet, and it’s removed from Eastline. Hence, why Morgan likes it.”

  “Do you?”

  I shrugged. “I mainly come here to hang out with her. But since you were already in the area today, I figured it would work.”

  “It does.” He turned his laptop over to me. “Here’s what I have so far.”

  It wasn’t perfect, but his new essay was a vast improvement over the prior one. He’d mastered the idea of a three-point argument to support his statement, and even though the grammar was a hot mess, it was still readable. “Not bad.”

  “Whew!” He relaxed back in his chair. “I was nervous about showing it to you.”

  “But it can be better.” I opened up track changes and started making comments. “While I’m working on this, take a look at one of the books I brought.”

  “How about I get you something to drink instead?”

  I froze mid-criticism, jerked out of my thought process by his question. I’d come into this once again expecting a no-nonsense study session, and he was turning it into something suspiciously like a date. “Um, sure.”

  “Be right back.” Three minutes later, he returned with a steaming mug. “One nonfat vanilla hazelnut latte, just the way you like it.”

  Only Brett would have my favorite drink memorized. I took a sip. Yep, it was just the way I liked it. “Thanks.”

  “Of course.” He opened up my battered copy of Elements of Style, but every time I looked up from the screen, he appeared to be more interested in watching me than actually reading the book.

  I hurried through the rest of my comments and returned the laptop to him. The more I focused on the essay, the less I had to worry about exposing my feelings to him.

  He edged his chair closer to mine until our thighs were touching and the heat radiating from his body chased away any of the chill lingering in the air. “So what’s the verdict?” he asked.

  “An improvement, but have you thought about this?”

  For the next hour, I walked him through ways to improve his essay, and by the time we finished, he’d produced an essay that even I was impressed with. And yet, even though it was technically sound, it was missing something.

  “Uh-oh, I don’t like the look on your face.”

  I blinked several times. “What look?”

  “The one where you want to say something, and you’re trying to decide the best way to bust my balls by saying it.”

  “I’m not going to bust your balls ov
er this.” I pursed my lips and read through the essay one more time. “I mean, it’s good. It should get you into most colleges.”

  He ran his hand along the back of his neck as through I’d already led him through a boot camp–style workout and was still asking for twenty more pushups. “But?”

  “But it’s missing that spark that’s you.”

  “Are you saying I need to sparkle?”

  “Only if you’re Richard,” I countered, earning a choked laugh in return. “But before I got to know you, this would be what I’d expect from you. The standard, ‘I’m awesome at everything I do’ kind of personal statement. But now that I’ve had a chance to see the real you, this…” I waved my hand in front of the screen. “It doesn’t do you justice.”

  He leaned in toward me. “Is that meant to be a compliment?”

  Every time he got that close to me, my heart sped up in an erratic beat that both worried and thrilled me. “Maybe.”

  “Then thank you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before brushing his lips against mine.

  The kiss was soft, simple, sweet, but it still packed a punch as far as my emotions went. It made me realize that Brett had more than just a physical effect on me. We could be back in that janitor’s closet for all I cared, and I would’ve still felt the same tingling along my skin and the rush through my veins that this kiss induced.

  He continued to play with my messy curls once he pulled away. “Any suggestions for improvement?”

  My brain was still so in that post-kiss haze that it took me several seconds to find something appropriate to say. “I know how hard it is to show your vulnerability, but according to my dad, it increases intimacy.”

  “Intimacy?” He arched a brow as through I’d suggested we go find a hotel room and get naked.

  “Not that kind of intimacy.” I rolled my eyes and retreated. “Why do guys always equate intimacy with sex?”

  “Because what’s more intimate than that? I mean, you’re naked, exposed, sharing part of yourself with someone else…”

  I almost stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing to block out his words, especially after the image of my mom and her new boyfriend flashed through my mind, but I managed to act a bit older than Brett’s twin sisters. “So can bearing your soul and revealing who you truly are.”

  The seductive grin on his face fell, and he backed away. “This is just a college essay, Lexi.”

  “I know, and like I said, what you have here would work, but if you really want to impress an admissions committee, if you really want to show them you’re more than what’s written about in a newspaper article, then you have to take that risk and expose that hidden part of yourself.”

  He looked away and nodded, the dejected angle of his face reminding me of a kid who’d been told he wasn’t good enough to make the team.

  I paused before adding, “After all, it worked for me.”

  His gaze locked with mine, and the hopeful glow that appeared in his eyes made me want to keep gushing about how much I liked him, but caution tempered my tongue. I’d already revealed enough of my vulnerabilities for one day, and if I actually let him know how I really felt about him, I’d risk more than I was willing to lose at this point.

  “So are you implying that I still have a chance with you?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on if my Cinderella act last night didn’t kill all future invites to parties.”

  “Not at all.” He snapped his laptop shut and stood. “I have two tickets to the game today. Want to come with me?”

  “Football?” I teased. “Two days in a row? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “And don’t forget the Seahawks tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “We can still make kickoff if we hurry.”

  “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “Nope.” He smiled and backed away toward the restrooms. “I’ll give you a minute to pack up.”

  I had just powered down my laptop when the familiar voice of a certain surfer frat boy came from behind me. “Alexis, how’s your dad?”

  I cringed. I’d been so focused on Brett that I hadn’t noticed Gavin was there. I put my bitch face on and turned around. “Get lost.”

  “Whoa! Where’s all the hostility coming from?”

  “Maybe from the fact you screwed my best friend and then dumped her.” I grabbed my notebook off the table, but he clamped down on it and prevented me from throwing it in my backpack.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, babe. She’s the one who hasn’t called me back.”

  “Maybe because you were a disappointment in the sack.”

  “Aw, don’t say that. I tried to please her, but she was all about the quickie.” He yanked the notebook from me and held it above his head and out of my reach. “So I’m getting the vibe she’s no longer into me.”

  “Loud and clear.” I jumped up, my fingers grazing the edge of the book.

  “So that means maybe we can go out some time, right?”

  I stopped and wondered if I’d heard him correctly. “Dude, how much pot have you smoked today?”

  He answered with a carefree grin that seemed impervious to my insults. “Not nearly enough, but I’m just wrapping up my shift here.” Then he turned around and scribbled something in my notebook before handing it back to me. “Give me a call if you change your mind. We can talk philosophy and maybe test out a few of your dad’s theories.”

  I snatched my notebook back. “Fat chance on that.”

  “Is he bothering you, Lexi?”

  I looked up to find Brett standing behind Gavin like a white-hat sheriff in one of those old westerns. The hard set of his jaw mimicked the clenched fists at his side. I’d never seen Brett this angry before, and I never imagined it would be because of me, but at that moment, I was glad to have all his testosterone-laden rage in my corner.

  Gavin slunk back. “We were just catching up. I’m a big fan of her dad’s.”

  “Well, I think she’s finished talking to you, so get lost.” Brett took one stomping step toward him.

  It was enough to send Gavin on a hasty retreat, but as he got to the door, he held his fingers up to his ear and mouthed, “Call me,” before slipping out of the café.

  What a douche! If Morgan ever brought him up again, I was going to tell her about every time he’d hit on me behind her back.

  “Who was that?” Brett asked, his glare following Gavin as the frat boy crossed the street.

  “One of Morgan’s exes.” Wait, could I call him an ex if they’d only gone out on one date? Or would a fling be a more appropriate word? “He can’t take a hint that I think he’s the scum of the earth.”

  “Perhaps you need to up your Queen B powers on him.” He slung my backpack over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure, but let me text my mom so she knows where I am.” And if by some chance I was going to come home early, I’d give her plenty of warning to avoid a repeat of last night.

  We’d gone about a block before she texted back, Good to know. Pete can’t do dinner tonight anyway, so we’re meeting up for brunch tomorrow instead.

  I groaned. I already got the hint that things were serious between my mom and this guy from the way they were wrapped up in each other on the couch, but she sounded like she really wanted us to get to know him, and that made me nervous that some big changes were on the way.

  “What was that for?” Brett asked, grabbing my hand as he navigated toward Husky Stadium.

  “My mom has a new boyfriend, and it’s serious.”

  “How serious?”

  “Sleeping together serious.”

  “I take it you don’t like him.”

  “I didn’t even know they were dating until I walked in on them naked last night.”

  He winced. “Ouch!”

  “Try beyond awkward.”

  We walked in silence while a tsunami of fans pushed us toward the stadium, but instead of going inside, Brett led me to one of the side parkin
g lots. “Are you okay with leaving your bag in my truck during the game?”

  “Sure.” One less thing to carry.

  He’d managed to snag a VIP parking spot just outside the stadium, and once he put my bag in the front seat, he grabbed a couple of lanyards from the glove box. “Here’s your ticket.”

  I read the writing on the plastic-enclosed ticket. “Field access?”

  “Um, yeah.” He locked the car and set the alarm. “I mean, we have access to one of the suites upstairs, but the coaches really wanted me to be on the field for part of the game.”

  That’s when I realized how big a deal Brett was in the college football world. “So that meeting with the coaches this morning?”

  “Was with both teams.” He hung the lanyard around my neck. “And just so we’re clear, I haven’t made any commitment to any school. I’m considering my options. And don’t let anyone convince you to try to influence my decision.”

  “As if they could.” I laughed. “Besides, it’s not like I have that much sway over you.”

  He flattened his mouth into a thin line and said nothing.

  Which, of course, made me want to get to the bottom of his silence. I waited until we were in the stadium before asking, “Is there a reason why you brought me instead of your dad?”

  “Tons of reasons.” He stopped and nodded to the concessions stand. “Want a soda before we hit the field?”

  “Sure, but I’m also willing to listen if you need to get some stuff off your chest.”

  “I’ll talk about my dad if you’ll talk about your mom.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Once we grabbed our sodas and flashed our magic badges, security waved us onto the thin strip of grass between the seats and the benches. I didn’t know much about football, but I knew most fans would kill to get this close to the action. We had crossed onto hallowed ground, and as long as we didn’t cross the dotted white lines surrounding the actual player benches, we could roam wherever we wanted along the sidelines.

  And yet, as much as Brett loved football, he didn’t have the same enthusiasm I’d witnessed the night before during the Eastline game. He seemed quiet, reserved, as though he were walking on eggshells and waiting for a land mine to go off at any second. When I compared him to the rest of the sideline guests, I noticed even more. He wasn’t wearing any team logos or colors. He didn’t cheer when the home team came out of the locker room. He didn’t show much emotion, one way or the other.