The Queen B* Strikes Back (10 page)

“Get enough sleep?” he whispered.

The house was dark and quiet when I’d gotten home from the concert last night. My mom trusted me so much, I didn’t even have a curfew. Apparently, she didn’t think I had enough of a social life to get into trouble. The same didn’t apply to my sister, who whined every time my mom reminded her of what time she had to be home. I’d cuddled with Brett’s T-shirt and dreamed of a certain dark-haired swoony guy singing laid-back surfer rock songs to me.

Today, I was facing the reality of
What the hell had I been thinking?

“Of course.”

The bell rang, and as soon as I booted up my tablet, I messaged Brett.
Not a word about last night to anyone.

Too late. I already spray painted it on the side of the school.

He was joking…I hoped.
Seriously. Not a word.

Why?
he typed back.
Scared people will think we’re fuck buddies?

Ugh! He would throw that back at me. I’d accused him and Summer of being just that, and even though he denied they were, I didn’t think Summer had ever gotten the memo.

Do you want people to think you’ve lost your mind?
I typed.

Maybe I already have
. Then he clicked out of the instant messaging platform and focused his attention on whatever Mr. DePaul was talking about today.

I tried to listen to the lecture on date rape drugs, but my mind was too frazzled to even care. The appointment on my calendar kept reminding me that Brett was supposed to come over to my place after class to work on his essay. Would we be strictly business? Or would we finish what we started last night?

I went through all the reasons why I couldn’t date Brett. They didn’t seem as strong as they were last week. Yes, my reputation as a hard, cruel bitch would suffer. Yes, his friends would probably think he’d lost his mind. Yes, we’d probably turn the whole school upside down if we were officially a couple. And yes, I’d make myself vulnerable to getting hurt by someone close me to me.

But if we could walk down the hall holding hands…

If we could go out to dinner or the movies or a concert without the fear of getting caught by our friends…

If we ended every date with a kiss and not felt guilty about it, would it be worth it?

I doubted Brett suffered the same hang-ups I did, though. After all, he was the Golden Boy. He never did anything wrong.

The bell rang, and Brett leaned over to whisper, “See you in half an hour.”

He was still coming over to my place.

It wasn’t a date, though. It was just a study session.

Now, if only I could keep reminding myself that.

***

Brett was over an hour late.

By the time he pulled into my driveway, my nerves were shot. I’d nearly worn a path in my mother’s prized Oriental rug from pacing. I went from being worried that he’d stood me up, to sad, and then finally angry.

It was my rage that greeted him when he walked through the door. “A call would’ve been appreciated.”

“Sorry. Summer needed help with her car, and I didn’t think you’d want me to expose our dirty little secret by calling you.” He went straight to the table and pulled out his tablet, keyboard, and journal.

I trailed after him, my entire body rigid with indignation. “ ‘Dirty little secret’?”

“What else should I call it? You’re the one who doesn’t want to be seen in public with me.”

Oh, snap! “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” He turned to face me and crossed his arms. “I’d be totally cool with meeting in the library to work on my essay, but you’re the one who insists I sneak over here.”

“I-I—” I stumbled for something to prove him wrong, but I couldn’t.

“So why do we have to meet here?” he asked.

“It’s quiet.” I scrambled for another reason. “No distractions. No airhead, manipulative twits like Summer asking you to help them with their brand-new BMW.”

“Don’t turn this into a bashing session, Lexi.”

“And don’t call me that.” I was on fire now, and I wanted to prove my point. “What was wrong with her car, anyway?”

“She said it was riding funny.”

“Then she could’ve taken it to a mechanic.”

“She just wanted my opinion.”

“And to monopolize you for an entire hour.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “What is the story between you two? Are you jealous of her or something?”

I was tempted to tell him everything, but the way he kept coming to her defense made me wonder if he’d even believe me. “We’ve already wasted enough time. Just show me what you have.”

He handed over the journal I’d given him on Monday without a word.

I opened it up, half expecting to find nothing more than a few scribbled notes on the first page. Instead, I found page after page of notes, ideas, arguments. My lips parted with an inaudible gasp as I read the first few pages. “You’ve been busy.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” he shot back with a hefty note of sarcasm.

As I read through the journal I saw he’d done exactly as I’d asked, taking each topic and writing down an idea with a few supporting details. But there was still something missing. “You didn’t list anything for the failure topic.”

“Because I don’t fail.” He snatched the journal back from me. “I know what I want, I make a plan to get it, and I carry it out.”

His boasting reminded me of the conversation I’d had with Summer the other day. Just like Brett, she always got what she wanted, and today’s “car trouble” was probably all part of her plan to keep him away from me.

Of course, I couldn’t forget that one comment she’d made about Brett lying. Was he really trying to help her figure out what was wrong with her car? Or had he stolen away for a quickie with her? Was he as much of a player as Sanchez?

But his arrogance held my attention for now. “You mean to tell me you’ve never suffered disappointment?”

“I never said that. I just said I’ve never failed. If something isn’t working, I adjust my strategy and go from there.”

“You know, they ask about failure because they want to know you don’t think you’re completely perfect.” I grabbed the journal back and reread his notes.

I never saw him approach me until he was inches away and murmuring, “Do
you
think I’m perfect?”

I got the same little flutter of glee I always got when he was near me. Damn him for having that effect on me. “Keep dreaming.”

My comment did little to scare him away. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around my waist like he had last night. “That’s one of the many things I like about you. You’re brutally honest.”

He liked
many
things about me? My giddiness tripled, along with my pulse. If I hadn’t been disappointed by so many people, I might’ve fallen completely under his spell. But I hesitated to relinquish my title as the Queen B* for some idle flattery. “I’d settle for brutal.”

He laughed again and locked me even tighter in his embrace. “So, which one should we work on?”

“Work on?” I mentally cursed as soon as the words slipped out. I’d been so distracted by him that I’d forgotten what I’d read. Of course, having his body pressed up against mine didn’t make staying focused on anything easy.

“My essay.”

I glanced down at the page that was open. Brett had scribbled some notes about how he’d gone into a game as a second-string underdog his sophomore year and carried the team to victory against Skylake, our cross-town rivals. It was an accomplishment he was proud of and demonstrated what he’d told me moments before. He saw the problem and found a way to solve it. He refused to fail, despite the odds.

I tapped the page. “This might work.”

“Great.” He released me and took the journal back. “I’ll start working on this after practice, and maybe we can meet up over lunch or dinner this weekend to go over it.”

That snapped me out of my daze. “Lunch or dinner? Are you trying to turn a tutoring session into a date?”

“It’s like I told you before,” he replied with a cheeky grin. “When something isn’t working, I adjust my strategy.”

And I’d been stupid enough to fall into his snare. “I can always review your essay by email.”

“And miss out on a meal with me?” He gave me a smoldering pout that might have worked on dingbats like Summer, but it only pissed me off.

“You have an overinflated opinion of yourself.”

“Do I?”

The way he was staring at my lips revived the memories from last night, and if he tried to kiss me again, I would’ve let him.

I didn’t have to wait long, but it wasn’t what I’d expected. He brushed his lips on my forehead.

A rebellious and disappointed whimper escaped before I could stop it.

“Admit it, Lexi, you like me.”

“The fact that you still have your testicles intact should be evidence of that.”

“Then why are you resisting?”

“Because…” My witty, aloof comeback died the second he stroked his knuckles along my cheek. The touch was so soft, so reverent, that it completely cut through my defenses and left me exposed. I could lie and try to come up with an excuse that fit my Queen B* persona, but he’d see it for what it was. I was better off being honest and hoping it wouldn’t come back to bite me in the behind later on. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you getting hurt.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but I pushed him away and continued before he had a chance to speak.

“Brett, I know first hand what your so-called friends are capable of doing, and I don’t want you learning the hard lesson I learned years ago. So please, stop trying to turn this into something more. We’re already risking too much as it is by just being friends.”

I left out the part where I was terrified he’d hurt me in the process. I needed to keep him at arm’s length if I wanted to have any hope of maintaining the safety of my heart. If I dared to admit that I kinda sorta liked him, I’d open the door to all kinds of grief.

“What do I need to do to prove that you’re worrying over nothing?”

“You saw what happened at the carwash.”

“Yes, but I’ve also seen how different you are when no one’s watching. How you’re willing to take a few risks and let your walls down long enough for me to glimpse the real you. And if others could only see that—”

“Not going to happen, Brett. Experience is as cruel a teacher as me.”

“Then maybe it’s time you experience something else.”

My breath caught as his lips touched mine.

However, I didn’t come anywhere near oxygen deprivation, as our kiss was interrupted by the ringing of Brett’s phone.

He pulled away with a whispered curse and answered. “What?”

I sank into the nearest chair and replayed the last few minutes. No matter how hard I tried to push him away, he kept trying to break down my walls. Worse, he said he’d seen the real me. Did that mean he knew what kind of power he had over me? Could I trust him? Or would he eventually use my weakness against me?

“I told you everything sounded fine,” Brett said into the phone. “Maybe you need to find a mechanic to look at it.”

My focus sharpened as I eavesdropped. There could only be one person on the other line. Summer.

That manipulative, self-absorbed, cold-hearted—

“I’m kind of busy at the moment,” Brett replied.

My anger waned. He wasn’t falling for her act.

But she wasn’t giving up, based on the frustrated expression on his face as he listened. He shifted his weight onto his heels and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine, I’ll check it out after practice.”

I waited until he hung up before I spoke. “She’s making it up, you know.”

“Maybe.”

“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. I know what Summer’s capable of doing. I just thought you’d be smart enough not to fall for it.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and his expression hardened. “Listen, I don’t know what your grudge is against Summer, but I know her pretty well.”

He was coming to her defense? A wave of heat rose into my cheeks and flowed out in a string of angry words. “Of course you do. You’re
close friends
, after all.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he straightened to his full height with his shoulders squared. “I’m going to be late for practice.”

“Whatever.” As he gathered his things and left, I crossed my arms and turned away, so disgusted that I couldn’t even look at him. Just when I thought I could trust him, he revealed where his loyalties lay.

And they were with my enemy.

Point made.

Chapter Nine

I was still so pissed off at Brett, I didn’t even acknowledge him standing by my locker when I got to school the next morning.

“Alexis, I—”

I cut him off by slamming my locker closed. “I’m going to be late for class.”