The Queen B* and the Homecoming King (23 page)

“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.”

“Yeah, but where?” Bitterness seeped into his voice. “Three schools have already rescinded their offers.”

“Were they schools
you were dying to play for?”

He shook his head. “But if they’re pulling out, I’m sure the rest of them will.”

“Big whoop. So what if you don’t get your precious football scholarship? I’m sure your dad will get over it. Besides, you still have some brains up there, and now you’re free to choose a school based on academics rather than their football team. And even if you decide to play again,
don’t some schools have a walk-on procedure?”

Something seemed to click inside him, and for the first time in days, hope returned to his eyes. “Maybe.”

“And you said you had over twenty offers and only three of them pulled theirs back. That still leaves at least seventeen schools, Brett.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess so, but they might not want to take a chance on me now that
my season is over. I mean, my ankle’s still pretty busted up.”

Something he said made me flash back to my conversation with Sanchez this morning. “You’re the team captain, and they still need you.”

The muscles along his jaw rippled, but he didn’t say anything.

So I kept going. “Sanchez mentioned to me that even though you’re not on the field with them, they still need you on the sidelines.
You’re the leader, the heart, the soul of the team, and they look to you for guidance. Maybe you’re not calling the plays in the huddle, but you can still make a difference. And you can still win your way onto a college team with your attitude, with the way you deal with adversity. Look at your dad and how far he got with sheer willpower and attitude. It kind of goes back to that college essay topic.
No one is perfect, not even you. Everyone has shit thrown at them from time to time. It’s how they deal with it that tells you what kind of person they are.”

I gauged his reaction to see if anything I’d said had sunk in. Too many emotions washed over his face in the seconds that followed. Pride. Anger. Shame. Confusion. Frustration.

At last, he closed his eyes and turned away, ending my assessment.
“Are you finished?”

“For now, although I think it’s pretty shitty of you to hide in your room this week when everyone is looking to you.” I climbed out of the passenger door, retrieved the keys from the back, and got behind the wheel again. “You’re not the first person to go through this, you know, and you’re not alone.”

He remained silent the rest of the way home, but the atmosphere had changed.
It no longer carried that heavy, sullen air. Brett wasn’t back to his optimistic self, but the pensive way he stared out the window gave me hope that he was reflecting on his situation in a different way.

I grabbed his crutches from the back and brought them around, but before I released my hold on them, I added, “You once bragged that you never failed at anything you set your mind to, and I
believe you can still get what you want. But it’s up to you to come up with the right game plan.”

He tucked the crutches against his sides, but I blocked his path. I had one last thing to do. I slipped his keys into his pocket.

He drew his brows together in a silent question.

“I’m not your chauffeur. When you’re willing to treat me like your girlfriend again, call me.”

I didn’t look back
as I walked home, even though I was dying to see if he would follow me or even if he was watching me leave. The ache inside pounded with each step I took, but I kept telling myself I’d done the right thing. I’d challenged him to be a better person. I’d drawn my line in the sand. He could either rise to the challenge or retreat into his own miserable little world.

But I refused to let him to
stay there without calling him out.

Chapter Twenty

I didn’t expect my doorbell to ring at six thirty Friday night. Mom was out with Pete looking at wedding venues, and Taylor had already left to pep people up for the game at seven. Richard would be at the game, too, and Morgan had sent me a text message earlier that she’d gone to San Juan Island with her parents for the weekend, where I hoped she’d open up to them about what
happened. I was alone in my bedroom, fully engrossed in a good book, and slightly annoyed when the bell kept ringing.

I muttered a slew of cusswords under my breath as I went downstairs to tell whoever it was to go away, but when I flung open the door, I found Brett standing there in his football jersey.

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Do you think you can give me a ride to the game?”

“Did you
walk here?”

“No, Sarah drove my truck over.” He waved over his shoulder to his thirteen-year-old sister, who was walking home. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Try getting in the car with Taylor behind the wheel.” Jesting aside, I morphed back into my hard Queen B* stance. “And I told you I wasn’t going to be your chauffeur.”

“If I just wanted someone to drive me to the game, I could’ve
asked my dad. But I wanted you, Lexi.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed to thank my girlfriend for giving me a huge wake-up call.”

That brought a smile to my lips. “In that case, just give me a minute and let me change.”

“Can I watch?” he teased.

“Perv!”

He chuckled and dodged my hand when I tried to swat him. “What can I say? I like seeing you with your shirt off.”

“You’ve never seen me with my
shirt off.”

“Yes, I have. I distinctly remember getting a glimpse when you ran out of the janitor’s closet in the girls’ locker room. You had a black bra on that day.”

My whole body flushed. It was the first time he’d kissed me. Which, of course, turned into the hottest make-out session I’d ever experienced.

At least up until now. Something in his rakish smile had part of me hoping we’d have
a chance to one-up that situation soon.

Just not right now.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I dashed up the stairs and changed into Brett’s Eastline team shirt in less than a minute.

His eyes lit up when I returned, and his chest puffed out in what seemed to be pride. “Have I ever told you how good my shirt looks on you?”

“It’s better than you suggesting I get out of it.” I’d intended
my statement to mean that he wasn’t asking for it back as part of a breakup process, but the second the words slipped out, the heat in his eyes told me he’d taken it in an entirely different direction. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was so worried you’d be pissed off at me for calling you out like I did this afternoon, you’d break up with me and ask for it back and—”

He silenced me with a sexy
kiss that told me that was far from the case. If anything, he wanted me out of his shirt, followed by my bra and panties and every other article of clothing. His hands ran along the bare skin of my back while his lips teased mine with playful nips and long, drawn-out kisses that left me as hot and horny as I’d accused him of being.

When it was over, he chuckled and turned around. “Sarah left
the keys inside.”

I let him get far enough ahead so he wouldn’t hear my sigh of relief. I’d given him some tough love. I’d risked losing him, but in the end, I’d found him again.

I waited until we were out of the driveway before asking, “So what happened?”

“I was pissed off at you for about ten minutes,” he admitted. “Then I actually realized you weren’t being a total bitch and let what you
said sink in. After that, I called Josh Feinglas and had a long talk with him, follow by my dad. Helped put things in perspective.”

Josh had been the starting quarterback when Brett came to Eastline. After he tore his ACL during a game his senior year, Brett became the team’s quarterback and had led them to victory ever since.

“Any gems from them?”

“A few. Like, for example, I know how terrified
Cody must be right now, starting a game for the first time. He’s a sophomore, like I was. But he’s good. There’s a reason why he’s my backup. Josh helped mentor me during those first few games, and now it’s my turn to pay it forward.”

In other words, he was going to do exactly what Sanchez wanted. He was going to lead from the sidelines.

And I couldn’t have been happier to agree with Sanchez,
of all people.

I managed to drop him off near the gate before the game. Brett might have been on crutches, but he was still clearly a king who could make the crowd part the moment they saw him.

I, on the other hand, had to park three blocks from the school stadium and hustle to get back to the game before kickoff. But I managed to send a quick text message to Richard to save me a seat, and
by the time I got there, I spotted him in the stands.

“I knew you were going to come, so I brought an extra.” He lifted his bottom to hand me a warm Eastline seat cushion ready to protect me from the cold metal bleachers. “You’re welcome.”

I sat next to him and searched the sidelines for Brett. He was standing on his crutches, talking a kid who looked ready to puke.

“Cody?” I asked Richard,
pointing him out.

“Yeah, the starting quarterback tonight. Thankfully, this team they’re playing sucks, so he should have an easy game tonight. And if he chokes, they can just keep giving it to Ren and running it.”

I couldn’t hear what Brett was saying from up in the stands, but I could read his face. The optimism had returned, and his encouraging smile radiated warmth. This was the Brett who
had made my knees weak and my heart melt. And maybe Cody wasn’t affected the same way I was, but he nodded and seemed to grow in confidence with each thing Brett said. When it came time for kickoff, the scared kid had vanished, and a pumped-up player stood in his place. Cody dashed past Brett to join the huddle.

And just as he always did, Brett found me in the stands and gave me a grin that
let me know how special I was to him.

It took Cody most of the first quarter to find his rhythm, but after every drive, Brett waved him over and spoke to him. Sometimes, they went over pictures in a binder. Sometimes, they just talked. But whenever they finished, Cody left the conversation with renewed vigor. By halftime, Eastline had a two-touchdown lead.

Normally, the team would trot off
the field for a pep talk in the locker room from the coach, but this was Homecoming, and no one moved until they announced the Homecoming Court.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Taylor was announced as one of the sophomore attendants. After all, she was part of the in-crowd and well on her way to taking over for Summer as the Queen Bee of the school. And of course, Summer was crowned Homecoming
Queen.

When they called Brett’s name for Homecoming King, I waited for that flare of jealousy I’d been expecting since the moment he’d asked me out. But it never came. I sat there next to Richard and watched Brett make his way to the center of the field to stand next to Summer, and all I could feel was pride. Our relationship had been tested, and yet it remained stronger than ever. Brett was
mine, and I no longer worried about the fallout from becoming his girlfriend. I only wanted to congratulate him with a kiss, and I didn’t care who saw us.

Eastline won the game, and the victory celebration lasted long after the stands started to clear. Brett stood in the center of his teammates, shouting and cheering with them. He may not have been leading them on the field, but he was still
their captain and still very much a part of the team.

I lingered by the fence, waiting for Brett to finish enjoying his moment, but in no hurry to leave.

That is, until Sanchez wandered over to me, his helmet in his hand. He gave me a questioning stare before saying, “I don’t know what you did, but thanks.”

It was the first time I’d ever gotten anything that remotely resembled respect from
the wide receiver. And it was the first time I’d found myself being able to reciprocate the sentiment. “I just relayed your message.”

He chewed on his bottom lip before giving me a half-grin. Then he slapped his helmet with one hand and joined his teammates.

And as I watched them, I realized that maybe Brett’s friends weren’t all that bad. Their concern for him this week proved they genuinely
cared about him, and for that reason, I decided I could maybe tolerate them.

But only in small doses.

The celebration ended about fifteen minutes after the clock had run down, and Brett made his way over to me. Exhaustion pulled at his face and slumped his shoulders, but he still smiled. “That was awesome.”

“I’m glad you decided to come to the game.”

“Only because you gave me the kick in
the ass I needed.” He balanced on his crutches and pulled me into his arms. “Thank you.”

He kissed me in front of his teammates, and I didn’t care that he was breaking rule number two. I lost myself in the warmth of his touch, the firmness of his lips, the intoxicating scent that could only be his. A shiver rippled through me as his hands, cold from the autumn night, reached under my shirt and
touched the bare skin along the base of my spine.