The Queen B* Strikes Back (6 page)

“Because…I don’t know.” She pulled the spoon out of her frozen yogurt and let the half-melted liquid drip from the end. “I went out with him Friday night, but it was kind of blah.”

“What was kind of blah?” Richard put his spoon down and leaned in. “The date or the sex?”

“Both.” Morgan pushed her cup away and played with her hair. “I mean, we grabbed some food from a street vendor and then went straight to bed. The date itself wasn’t anything spectacular. He didn’t even seem to put in an effort to impress me. Dinner was more like a formality before dessert.”

“And you still slept with him?” I asked. “Have a little self-respect, Morgan. If he can’t even be considerate on a date, what did you think he’d be like in bed?”

She shrugged. “I guess I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, there was hardly any foreplay. It was over before I could even start enjoying it.”

Morgan was one of the few girls I knew who engaged in sex because she truly enjoyed it. It wasn’t to keep a guy interested in her, unlike some of our classmates, and it had never been associated with the boredom I heard in her voice. Usually, she was gushing about how great the experience was.

“Did he at least call or text you afterward?”

She shook her head, and my temper rose to a boiling point.

“Then screw him. He’s a loser, Morgan, and he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, I’m with Alexis on this one,” Richard chimed in. “So totally not worth pursuing.”

“But…” She gave another heavy sigh. “I just had higher hopes for him. I mean, he’s a senior in college. I thought he might be, you know, looking for something more than just sex.”

Where the hell did she ever get that idea? I choked back my rebuttal, though. I was the Queen B* to everyone around me, but I did have some compassion for my best friends. “I wasn’t getting that vibe from him.”

Of course, I didn’t add that he’d asked me out and claimed he wasn’t interested in Morgan at all.

“Me, neither.” Richard scraped his bowl clean. “He was definitely a fuck-them-and-forget- them kind of guy. You know, typical douche bag frat boy looking for another notch in the headboard.”

I kicked him under the table. It didn’t matter that I agreed with him. Morgan was still visibly upset over her failed date, and we didn’t need to rub it in that we knew he’d be this type of scumbag.

I adopted the soothing tone my mom used when she was trying to console Taylor over whatever frivolous fashion faux pas had made her cry. “The point is, now you know he’s not worth obsessing over, so move on to someone better.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Morgan finally took a bite of her now-soupy frozen yogurt. “So what’s this about you going to the senior carwash yesterday?”

I glanced at Richard, who looked away and pretended to whistle.

“Depends on what you heard,” I replied, reminding myself to smack him when I got a chance for being a gossip.

“Just that you were there and turned the hose on Summer and Sanchez.” For the first time since I’d arrived, she grinned. “I would’ve loved to have seen that.”

A haughty smirk replaced the guilty expression on Richard’s face. He may have shared some gossip with Morgan, but he’d left out the Brett stuff.

Or so I thought.

“But what’s this about Brett talking you into going?” Morgan asked.

Richard had just earned another smack when this was over.

“He lives down the street from me, and he thought I needed to show some more school spirit.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “As if you wanted to do anything for that hellhole. So glad I’m almost done with any form of association with Eastline.”

“Yeah, well, he basically carried me out of the house and into his car—”

“Hold on there, sweetie,” Richard interrupted. “You didn’t mention that part. Was it more like Prince Charming or caveman style?”

“Definitely caveman style.”

“Ooh!” he said with an exaggerated shiver that seemed to lighten up the mood at the table. “So sexy and alpha.”

“Down, boy. He’s straight.”

“A boy can dream, though, right?”

Great. Richard and I were both going to fantasize about Brett now.

“But even after yesterday’s fiasco, he texted me and invited me over for breakfast this morning and—”

“Again?” This time, it was Morgan who cut me off. “He’s had, like, three serious girlfriends since coming to Eastline, and not one of them has ever been inside his house. And you’ve had breakfast with him
twice
.”

I didn’t even want to mention the multiple visits to his bedroom. It would raise too many implications I wasn’t ready to accept.

“Will you two let me finish? And no, it’s nothing like what you’re thinking. It was breakfast with his parents and sisters. Hardly what I’d call romantic.”

“You still made it further than his previous girlfriends,” Morgan pointed out.

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but only because you keep rejecting him.” Richard turned to Morgan. “Somebody here is a little too proud to be seen with a jock.”

“Ugh!” I threw down my spoon in frustration and sat back in my chair. “It’s not like that. Besides, the only reason he invited me over this morning is to ask me to help improve his essay writing skills.”

“And maybe he could tutor you in a few things, eh?” Morgan said with a naughty grin that made my skin flush.

If she only knew about the lesson in making out in a closet that he’d already given me.

“It’s not like that,” I repeated in a small voice, crossing my arms and looking away.

Richard caught my attention and silently mouthed,
Bullshit
.

“Well, if there’s some way to use this to piss Summer off, I’d do it.” Morgan grinned, and I saw my best friend returning from the Gavin-induced funk she’d been in. “I can only imagine how furious she was when you arrived at the carwash with him.”

“
Furious
would be putting it mildly. And the rest of his friends thought he’d gone mental.” I tried a bite of the new flavor. It was okay. Not as yummy as Brett’s pancakes, but at least I was willing to try new things.

Morgan’s grin widened. “Maybe you should plan on wearing something really sexy while you’re tutoring Brett.”

“Definitely.” Richard bounced up and down in his chair. “You could totally use this as a chance to flirt with him.”

“No way.” Although a rebellious streak in the back of my mind suggested I might enjoy flirting with him. “I’m doing this all through email. No physical contact.”

Because if this morning proved anything, it was that I turned into a kiss-craving idiot whenever he touched me.

“Bummer.” Richard pouted for a moment before turning back to Morgan. “So, back to your situation. Dump the loser, and let’s go to the lake to see if there are any hot guys paddleboarding.”

“You’re on.” Morgan threw her fro-yo away and looked at me. “You want to come?”

I shook my head. I hated keeping secrets from my friends, but if I hung out with them any longer, I’d likely spill my guts about everything that happened this morning…or how I was secretly worried about these one-on-one tutoring sessions with Brett.

And not necessarily with me as the teacher.

Chapter Five

Brett slid into the chair next to me as the bell for fourth period rang.

I stiffened. Now that our class project was over, he didn’t need to sit next to me anymore. So why did he?

And worse, what was everyone going to think when they saw him sitting at my table instead of with his friends?

He stared at me and lifted his chin as though he dared me to kick him out before facing the front of the classroom where Mr. DePaul was beginning the lesson.

This week’s topic was drugs and alcohol. Woo-friggin’-hoo! I pretended to pay attention while surfing the web on my tablet.

A message popped up on my screen about halfway through class.
When do you want to meet up to work on my essay?

Instant messaging was frowned on by the school and had been shut down by the IT department, which, of course, made the students come up with a workaround. And knowing Brett’s computer skills, I wouldn’t doubt he was one of the people behind the hack.

I turned to him and gave him what I thought was my best
Are you kidding me?
glare.

He drummed his fingers on the table, his head propped up on the other hand.

I thought we could do this through email
, I typed back.

Nope. I need intensive help
.

My breath hitched. Damn it. He was trying to back me into a corner, and I was torn between telling him no way and going along with it because I hoped it would lead to more kissing.

You can hire a professional tutor, you know.

Nope. I’ve read your blog enough to know you can write a convincing essay, and I know your writing scores
.

Which I’m still pissed off about you learning
, I replied with shaking hands.
Talk about an invasion of privacy
.

I was just conducting an investigation into your skills. Besides, you should be proud of your SAT scores
.

My flush of anger softened into something akin to pleasure. Unlike most guys our age, Brett seemed to appreciate my brains more than my boobs.

Of course, I knew he appreciated them, too, but when I cast a sideways glance at him, he was looking at my face, not my chest.

I pretended to comb my hair with my fingers, using it as a curtain to hide the blush I knew was rising into my cheeks. Then I typed,
You haven’t even sent me a sample.

I’ll bring it by your place after class
.

Crap, crap, crap, crap! He wanted to come by my place, which would be empty at this time of day. And if we were alone, with no one to interrupt us…

Shit! I was turning into Morgan.

That doesn’t work for me,
I replied.

Got plans or something?

I balled my hands into fists. It would be so easy to lie and say yes, but as soon as I saw the next message from him, I relented.

Please. I have less than two weeks before the makeup SATs, and I really want to bring my scores up, as well as write a killer application essay.

It was only for two weeks. And based on his plea, it was all about academics. No makeout sessions on the agenda. Just the two of us making sure he got accepted at a top school.

On one hand, I was relieved. On the other, disappointed.

But if I kept it strictly business, I could get through this without embarrassing myself.

OK, fine, see you 30 minutes after class.

You’re awesome.

My lips twitched as I read his last message. He thought I was awesome, and for some odd reason, that made me happy.

***

As soon I saw Brett walk up to my house, I immediately scanned the street to see if anyone was watching. The fewer people who knew about his afternoon visits, the better.

He came in through the front door and set his backpack on the seldom-used dining room table, already familiar with the layout of my home from his previous visits. He pulled out a laptop and booted it up. “Here’s what I have so far.”

The knots in my shoulders started to loosen. So far, so good. It was all about the essay. No hint of any fooling around. And I could handle that.

I sat down and started reading while he paced behind me.

Brett hadn’t been joking about his writing skills. The rambling, incoherent string of poorly punctuated sentences that he was trying to pass off as an essay made me cringe more than once.

He stopped and rubbed the back of his head. “I told you it was awful.”

“Did I say it was?”

“No, but I saw it on your face.” He pulled a chair closer to me and straddled it. “So, what’s the bad news?”

“I would tell you if I knew what the subject of your essay was supposed to be.”

“Ouch,” he replied with a wince. “Okay, give it to me straight.”

“Do you really want me to be cruel?”

“Isn’t there a line from Shakespeare about being cruel to be kind?”

I paused. Maybe Brett couldn’t write an essay, but he wasn’t a complete idiot either. He could recognize quotes from famous literature. He could hack into the school’s computer system. He could create miracles on the football field. So maybe I shouldn’t rip him a new one like I would with anyone else.

“How cruel do I need to be?”

“You have a rep as being the biggest bitch at Eastline, and I know how much you value your reputation. You wouldn’t want people to think you’ve gone soft.”

Leave it to Brett to throw something like that in my face. What was worse, I genuinely winced from his comment. Maybe being the Queen B* had a drawback or two. “Just like I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have people know about your academic deficits.”