Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 18

I pulled my emergency hoodie from my locker and zipped it over the quote emblazoned across my chest before heading to class, armed with my large nonfat vanilla hazelnut latte.

By the time fourth period rolled around, I was feeling more like a human being. And as much as I hated to admit it, the coffee helped. When Brett slid into the seat next to me, I mumbled my thanks.

"What was that?" He leaned closer, giving me a good whiff of him.

Yummy, I think was what Morgan called him. I was beginning to agree, at least on some accounts.

"I said thank you for bringing me coffee."

"No worries." He waved the doll's arm at me. "Junior here hopes you're less grouchy now."

"I'm only running on about seventy percent bitch level at the moment. That doll is the spawn of Satan, by the way. It kept screaming every two to three hours last night."

Brett nodded. "Just like a real baby."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Nope." He opened up his laptop to begin taking notes. "Try having twins."

"I'd kill myself."

He chuckled. "I'm sure my parents considered that from time to time, but they made it through okay. My sisters are now four."

"You have twin sisters?"

"Yep. Best birds and the bees talk my parents could've ever given me. I'm so not ready for kids."

At least that explained why he was so laid back with this whole fake baby thing. "Just make sure you don't breed with Summer," I said, remembering my conversation with Morgan yesterday.

He turned to me, his brows bunched together and his mouth opening to say something before Mr. DePaul cut him off by jumping into his lecture.

It seems the school board did approve the safe sex lecture because today's PowerPoint was all about STDs and how to use condoms. I glanced around the room to see how many people were squirming in their seats, finally coming to Brett. He was calm and focused on the presentation, his fingers flying over the keys as he took notes.

Probably in preparation for this weekend.

I needed brain bleach every time I thought of him and Summer together.

The bell rang before I realized it. "So, should I bring you coffee tomorrow?" I asked, shocked I'd even offered to act like his personal secretary.

'Nope, hate the stuff." He snapped his laptop closed, the doll still strapped to his chest. "Thanks for offering, though."

***

"He likes you," Morgan said after I'd recounted the whole Brett-coffee incident from this morning.

"Or maybe he was just feeling sorry for me."

She shook her head. "Guys don't do thoughtful little things like that unless they're trying to impress a girl or get her in the sack."

"He's dating Summer, remember?"

"Whatever." She checked the clock on the wall. "It's almost three. Gavin should be here any minute now."

"You know when he's working? What did you do-take a peek at the master schedule?"

"No, I just asked him." Her eyes lit up as a lanky, surfer-looking guy strolled into The Purple Dog. "There he is."

"Oh, let's not be too obvious that you're into him or anything, shall we?" I pretended to be reading while I watched Gavin set his stuff under the counter and put on an apron. His straight blond hair fell into his eyes, which appeared to be blue. His tee shirt bore the logo of Casual Industries, a popular clothing line here in Seattle, and it stretched over his muscles as he moved. He was laughing at something one of his co-workers had said. "Not bad," I said once I finished my assessment.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, her voice all dreamy. "I can't wait to get him naked."

"Isn't that moving a little fast?" Images from today's STD lecture flashed in front of my eyes, and I shuddered. As far as I knew, Morgan hadn't caught anything.

Yet.

She shrugged. "So maybe I'll try going slow for once, see where it leads."

"That sounds like a good plan." I turned back to the Faulkner novel I had to read for my second-period AP English class. "Maybe you'll be able to keep a guy longer than a week."

"Maybe." The way she said the word made it sound like she wasn't quite convinced it was such a good idea.