Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 43

I was so wrapped up in my plans for vengeance that I'd forgotten all about Brett until I saw the 4Runner sitting in my driveway. He hopped out of his SUV when I drove up. One look at my foul mood, and his smile faded. "What happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." More than likely, he already knew about the locker room videos. It seemed the whole football team did.

He moved between me and my front door, stopping me by bracing his hands against my shoulders. "Lexi, talk to me. Tell me what has you so pissed off."

"Like you don't know."

"No, I don't."

I searched his face for any signs of lying, but didn't see any. Maybe he was as innocent as he claimed. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, letting some of my anger flow out with the air. "Can we talk about it inside, please?"

"Lead the way."

I was still queasy, but for an entirely different reason now. I'd failed to protect my sister. And that asshole had won—at least for now. But I didn't know if telling Brett about the videos would make things better.

Brett pulled out a chair for me at the table and waited until I sat down before doing the same. "Now, tell me what happened."

"I had a run-in with Sanchez at the fro-yo café." That was common knowledge. Or at least, it would be by morning.

"And?"

"I accidentally tripped and spilled yogurt on his iPad."

Brett crossed his arms. "And why did you do that?"

"It was an accident."

"Nothing about you is an accident."

"Listen, I have things I need to do, so if we can just wrap up this project, I'd appreciate it."

I tried to rise from my chair, but he pushed me back down. "I can't work with you when you're upset, and I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you want to help me? I thought you and Sanchez were best buds."

"We're teammates, but I also know he can be an asshole."

I mirrored Brett's posture, tapping my fingers on my arm as I weighed the consequences of telling him about the video. Finally, I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face and said, "He was watching a naked video of Taylor and some other girls in the locker room."

Brett's expression turned unreadable. "And was this a video she sent to him?"

"Damn it, Brett, I know my little sister can be an idiot at times, but she's not so desperate for attention that she'd stoop to sexting."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I need more information about this video."

My feet twitched, releasing some of the frustrated energy zapping through my veins. I bit my bottom lip, willing Brett to let this subject go so I could take of it myself once we finished our assignment, but in the end, I decided it was better to defend my sister.

"Okay, I'll start from the beginning. Last week, Taylor discovered a video of her and the other cheerleaders on YouTube that had been taken with a hidden camera in the locker room. I went in the next day and found it, left a video message for the perv who'd placed it there to take down the videos, and then threw the camera away. A couple of days later, the videos were gone, and I thought this was over, but then there was this weird post on my blog this weekend and—"

Brett silenced me by placing his hands on my shoulders and giving me a small shake. "Can you show me where the videos were before?"

"Why? So you can get a glimpse of half-naked cheerleaders too?"