He was neutral, which told me volumes, especially when I realized Washington was playing Cal that day.
Academically, I knew both UW and Berkeley were great schools. They’d both been on my radar. But what did Brett think about them?
We wandered up and down the sidelines, pausing to watch each play before moving on. I used the opportunity to have Brett explain the game to me and learned far more than the basics Richard had taught me. Brett saw football as a game of chess. It was more than just grabbing yards to him. It was about gauging matchups between the offense and the defense. It was about seeing holes and making the most of them. It was about fake plays and tricking your opponent. In short, it was more strategy than physical prowess.
And by the end of the first quarter, I was in sheer awe of him.
When did the dumb jock become a genius mastermind? And why had I never noticed it before?
Every once in a while, someone would stop us to talk to Brett. I was invisible as far as they were concerned, but it gave an opportunity to see how Brett handled his fame. As much as the person wanted to elicit some sort of favoritism, Brett answered their questions like a politician on a controversial issue, giving the same noncommittal answers he’d given me in the parking lot.
“I haven’t made any commitment to any school. I’m considering my options.”
I heard him repeat those lines over and over, each response adding to the tense lines of his face, until finally, he took my hand and pulled me away from the field. “I think I’ve seen enough for today. Want to head up to the suite?”
“Sounds great to me.” Maybe there he could escape the pressure that was building around him.
I had to jog to keep up with his brisk pace, but once we started climbing up to the suites, he slowed down. “Sorry, but I just needed to…”
“Enjoy the game?” I supplied, not wishing to touch on what appeared to be a sensitive subject.
He gave me a grateful smile. “Yeah, enjoy the game.”
The “suite” was actually a part of an open outdoor section with little dividers around a bistro table and two chairs. Once we sat down, a server came to take our orders for snacks and brought them out a few minutes later.
Before he dug into his hamburger, Brett winked at me. “Just to be clear, even though we’re sharing a meal at a once in a lifetime experience, this isn’t a date.”
I laughed and flung one of my French fries at him.
After our meal, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I should’ve played the “just friends” card, but it felt so comfortable, I was willing to let it slide this time. Besides, he was only doing it to keep me warm from the chilly air, right?
“So how do you really feel about your mom seeing someone?” he asked midway through the third quarter.
“How should I feel? I mean, she and my dad have been divorced since I was five. My dad has a new girlfriend every semester. And you seemed to think my mom was a MILF.”
“I never said she was a MILF.”
“But you spent plenty of time staring at her trophy case.” My mom was a former beauty queen, and thanks to the advances in modern medicine, she still looked more like my big sister than my mom. “She’s attractive, intelligent, driven. Why shouldn’t she have a boyfriend?”
“But?” he asked as though he knew I was holding back my true feelings.
Which I was.
“But she seems really serious about this guy, and this is my senior year, and I’m already juggling enough without having this guy over all the time or even moving in with us.”
There. Once I’d gotten it all out of my system, I saw the problem for what it really was. For years, it had just been the three of us—Mom, me, and Taylor. We weren’t the family of the year by any means, but we were getting along just fine. Now, my mom wanted to introduce this new person into our world, and I knew nothing about him. How serious were things between him and Mom? Did he have kids? Would he want us to suddenly become one big happy family? Or worse, would Mom want to pretend we were one so we wouldn’t scare him off?
Brett didn’t say anything first. He traced a series of spiraling circles along my upper arm with the hand he’d wrapped around me, each movement soothing my raw nerves. Just when I wondered if he’d even heard me, he said, “If anyone can handle it, it’s you. But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
He gave me what I needed—a shot of confidence and an offer for support. How could I not return the favor? “So what happened with your dad today?”
He withdrew his arm and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, and pretended to be completely absorbed by the game for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but hard. “It’s my decision, not his.”
I mirrored his posture. “So he’s trying to micromanage your career?”
“Something like that.” He waited for the next play to end before continuing. “I told you my dad played in the NFL, right?”
I nodded.
“When he was in high school, he didn’t get that many offers to play in college. He walked onto the team when he got there and continued to improve his game through sheer stubborn willpower. Even when he was drafted, it wasn’t until the fifth round. But he played hard, and he worked his way up from the practice squad to a starting spot on the team after a few seasons, only to suffer a career-ending knee injury his second game in.”
He drew in a deep breath and released it in a frustrated huff. “I’ve heard his story for as long as I can remember, and ever since I could hold a football, I’ve carried the weight of his expectations. He wanted me to have the chances he never had. And now that I’m getting them, I feel like he’s trying to force me to do what he would’ve done in my shoes.”
“But you’re not him.” I looped my arm through his. “You’re you.”
“You get that. My mom gets that. My dad doesn’t.” He slumped back in his chair, but held onto my hand, keeping it tucked into the crook of his elbow. “When I saw the coaches trying to cater to him this morning, I kind of snapped, especially after I heard him speaking on my behalf. I don’t want to lead anyone on. I’m not the manipulative type. I just want to see what they have to offer and how I’d fit into the team and the school, and I don’t need him limiting my options from the onset.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“In so many words.” He lowered his gaze to his lap and flicked a piece of lint off his fleece jacket. “Well, if you want to know the truth, I kind of blew up at him.”
After witnessing an exchange between them a few weeks ago over the breakfast table, I wasn’t surprised. It was a hot issue that had been simmering for quite a while and was bound to boil over eventually.
“Do you want to know the funny thing?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “You actually became my excuse for telling him to get lost.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Just when I was about to lose it, I got your text telling me that you’d meet me at the coffee shop, and I told him I’d rather give my extra ticket to you than him.”
“So our ‘not a real date’ is really just a way to give your dad a time out?”
A smile finally appeared on his face, twitching at first before finally cracking through his frustration. “Yeah, something like that.”
“And should I be afraid to sit next to him at the table if you have me over for pancakes again?”
“You can handle him. You’re the Queen B, after all.” He gave me a teasing grin. “Besides, I think he likes you.”
“Well, just so he knows, I’m not afraid to give it to him straight.”
“I’ll warn him of that.”
I don’t know if it was due to the blast from the space heaters that had been turned on in the last ten minutes or the warmth of his hand pressed against mine or the glow of admiration in his eyes, but the late September football game turned into a cozy afternoon that was definitely date worthy.
Too bad it wasn’t a real date, right?
“Of course.” I didn’t bother to correct him for calling me Lexi. It was futile at this point. Instead, I rested my head on his shoulder and watched the rest of the game with him, wondering when I’d begun to see Brett as more than just a hot guy who drove me crazy. Somewhere along the way, I’d grown to care for him. At first, I told myself I cared for him the same way I cared for Morgan and Richard, but now I knew better. Brett Pederson had somehow rooted himself into my heart, and that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
Because now that he was in my heart, he could easily break it.
That realization added a melancholy note to the rest of the afternoon and manifested itself in my silence on the way home after the game.
Brett, however, appeared to be in better spirits. The tension was gone from his body, and a relaxed smile played on his lips. It was as though the weight that had been on his shoulders had been lifted.
We pulled into my driveway before I realized it. Normally, I would’ve asked him to go to his place or drop me off at the corner, but the lights were out in my house, and no one appeared to be home to catch us.
He hopped out of the truck and opened the door for me before I could grab the handle. After he helped me out of the passenger seat, he pulled me close to him.
I breathed him in, still in awe of how his scent could both calm and agitate me in one whiff.
He cupped my cheek in his hand. “I had a good time today.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. After all, lying would only ruin what had been an almost perfect afternoon. I liked spending time with him. I liked that he wanted to hold me close and that he was touching my face and looking at my lips as though he wanted to kiss me again.
“Maybe we should have another one of those ‘not dates’ again soon,” he murmured.
I wound my arms around his neck. “Depends on how you end it.”
A wicked gleam appeared in his eyes just before he closed the space between our lips and accepted my challenge.
The electric kiss rivaled the one from the concert earlier this week. It was deep, passionate, and set my skin on fire. I didn’t wait for my knees to go weak before I clung to him. I wanted to touch him, to explore the hard planes of his well-muscled body while indulging in the deliciousness of his kiss while I could.
And yet, for as hot as he was, it was his restraint that turned me on even more. Evening had fallen over our little Seattle suburban town, and the thick clouds blocked out the rising moon. No one would notice us kissing in the dark shadows outside my house. But instead of taking advantage of the moment to grab my ass or my breast, he kept his hand firmly pressed against the small of my back. There was something strangely sensual about the way the pressure kept increasing as our kiss grew more and more intense. It was his way of telling me he wanted more, but respected my boundaries at the same time.
A whimper formed in my throat. I wanted more, too, and not just when it came to making out. I wanted him. I wanted the star football hero. I wanted the confident leader in the classroom. I wanted the geeky guy who secretly hacked into the school’s computer system. I wanted the big brother who doted on his little sisters and flipped pancakes high in the air for their delight. I wanted the guy who listened to me vent and told me he believed I could handle it rather than try to give me advice. I wanted the whole package because he got me.
Just like I got him.
I upped the intensity of the kiss until my lungs burned with air, all in the hopes he’d understand what I was too afraid to say out loud. He answered by matching it. My head swam, but I didn’t know if it was from the lack of air or from him. I didn’t care if I swooned in his arms. I knew he’d be there to catch me if I did.
We finally broke away, each of us gulping for air.
I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, wondering what someone like him saw in me.
“Lexi,” he said in a way that was both a plea and a moan.
I pulled him back toward me, eager to continue.
That is, until the lights started flipping on in my house.
I jumped, and a string of curses rushed out. I didn’t know if it was Taylor or my mom, but either way, if one of them had witnessed us together, I’d have a shitload of questions to answer the second I walked through the door. And the sad part was, I was hoping it was my mom instead of my sister.
“Go,” I whispered, pushing him away.
He looked up at my house and nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine.” I backed away from his 4Runner as he started it and wrapped my arms around my midsection. Less than a minute apart from him, and I already missed him.
Yeah, I was bordering on mental.
I took a moment to gather my composure before walking into the house and adopted Brett’s expression from the game. If they asked a question, I could give a noncommittal response like, “No, we’re not a couple. I’m keeping all my options open.”
Oh, and enjoying every second of making out with the hottest guy in school.
But when I walked into the house, it was empty. The lights were on, but as far as I could tell, no one was home. I tromped through the downstairs, hoping to give my mom plenty of warning if she had company over, but it was clear. I went upstairs and listened outside of Taylor’s room, but heard nothing. When I peeked in, it was dark and silent.
Gooseflesh prickled my skin. Someone had to have turned on the lights.
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh my God, Lexi. I can’t believe you’re wearing that!” Taylor made another sweep of my appearance and wrinkled her nose.
“What?” I looked down at my outfit. It was clean. It didn’t have any rips or holes. And unlike the oversized button-down shirt that my sister was trying to pass off as a dress, it wasn’t overly revealing. Who cared if I was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that said “I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good”? It was just Sunday brunch with the guy Mom was sleeping with. I wasn’t out to impress him.
Taylor gave the look that asked if we were even related and strode down the hall. “Mom, you’d better come see what Alexis is wearing.”
A few seconds later, my mom emerged from her room in the process of securing some huge, dangling earrings. Her dress was neat and elegant while still fitted enough to highlight her assets. She gave me the once-over and winced. “Alexis, sweetie, we’re having brunch at Salish.”
“And is there a dress code or something?”
“Well, no, but it is a bit more formal. You know—something nicer than jeans.”
“It’s brunch, Mom, not an audience with the Queen of England. Besides, I think we’re over formalities since I’ve seen Pete at his most casual, don’t you think?”
Two spots of color appeared on my mom’s cheeks, and a puzzled look creased Taylor’s features.
Years on the beauty queen circuit came in handy. Mom cleared her throat and retained her composure. “Be that as it may, I would greatly appreciate it if you could wear a dress or something similar today.”
“I don’t own a dress.” Okay, so that wasn’t the entire truth. I did own a Marauder’s Map dress, but somehow, I didn’t think my Potterhead couture would pass muster.
“Maybe Taylor can lend you one of hers.”
My sister and I eyed each other, and for once, we were in perfect agreement. She had to be kidding, right?
“I don’t think Alexis could fit into any of my clothes,” Taylor sniped.
“That’s because I don’t have the figure of a prepubescent boy.”
Rage flashed in my sister’s eyes, but Mom managed to step between us before she launched into full-on feral-cat mode.
“Enough, you two. I’m nervous enough about this morning without you two pecking away at each other.” She turned to me. “Alexis, we’re about the same size. Let’s see what I have in my closet.”
Great. I was going to meet my mom’s boyfriend dressed like her. I wonder if the dress she’d
pick out for me would be one he’d recognize from a prior date.
I followed her into the massive walk-in closet that was the size of a bedroom and waited while she slid hanger after hanger past her. Finally, she pulled out a dress with soft blues and purples. It was nice, but still casual enough for brunch. And thankfully, it still had tags on it.
“Try this on. And when we’re done, we need to do something with your hair and makeup.”
“Mom, really, this is too much. I mean, if he doesn’t like me for who I am, then screw him.”
She stiffened, and the flush returned to her cheeks. “You’re way too much like your father.”
“Don’t worry—you have your clone in Taylor.”
I took the dress back to my room and tried it on. A quick glance in the mirror surprised me. I actually looked good. Like feminine and pretty and soft. So out of character for me, and yet, I kind of liked it. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like this to school, but if I went on, say, another “not-date” with Brett…
My mom knocked before opening the door and popping in to check on me. “Very nice. Now, to tame that frizz.”
She stood like a drill sergeant and waited for me to march by before following me to bathroom. I pulled out my anti-frizz serum and let her work it through my hair until my curls were tamed into glossy ringlets.
“Now, for makeup.”
I held up my hands and backed away. “I draw the line with makeup. I have on a dress. I did my hair. I’ll put on some lip balm, but that’s my limit.”
Mom sighed, but gave me a once-over. “I suppose you’re right.”
I had no idea why she was so obsessed with making this meeting as perfect as possible, but my gut told me I had to draw the line somewhere. Pete obviously liked her. If he didn’t like me and Taylor, then he could take a hike.
Taylor was texting like a mad woman when we emerged from the bathroom. She took one look at me and panic flickered across her face, followed by more texting. I had no idea what set her off, and in truth, I didn’t want to ask. She may have been suffering a fit of jealousy over my cleavage, for all I knew.
The Queen B* Strikes Back Page 12