Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 54

Excerpt from The Queen B* Strikes Back

There's a special place in hell reserved for those who wake me up before noon on a Saturday.

And Brett Pederson was on that list.

I'd forgotten that he was on my preferred contact list, so his call came through the Do Not Disturb feature on my phone. Two weeks of a school project with him and now he was ruining my first day without Junior, the mechanical mutant baby that had been the bane of my existence.

The phone wouldn't stop ringing, so I was forced to pick it up. "Give me one reason not to make you the topic of my next blog post."

"Aw, Lexi, you wouldn't do that."

"Don't call me that, and yes, I would."

After all, I was Alexis Wyndham, the Queen Bitch of Eastline High School. My blog, The Eastline Spy, was notorious for taking members of the in-crowd down a peg, and as the hottest guy in school, Brett would be an easy target.

Too bad he'd somehow earned a soft spot in my heart. It was not something my cruel, hard image as the Queen B* would allow, and even though I'd convinced him we were better off as friends, I'd started second-guessing my decision the moment he walked away.

"I was calling to make sure you were ready to go to the senior class carwash. I'll swing by your house in ten minutes to pick you up."

Before I could protest, he hung up.

I glanced at my alarm clock.

8:32 a.m.

Crap!

A) Where does Brett get off thinking that I want to have anything to do with the idiots I refer to as "classmates"?

B) Why in hell would he think I'd want to go to this event, let alone with him?

But the butterflies in my stomach overruled my brain. As much as I loathed the idea of getting wet all in the name of raising money for a stupid class gift, the idea of Brett picking me up was enough to make me crawl out of bed.

Besides, if I arrived with him, it would piss off my nemesis, Summer Hoyt, to no end. She wanted him, but he wasn't interested. In fact, he seemed more interested in me. At least, if I believed yesterday's conversation behind the scoreboard.

Brett wanted to be more than friends, but I wasn't ready to go there.

At least, not yet.

I'd spent three years building a rep as the hardest bitch in school, and if the star quarterback started dating the Queen B*, then both of our positions in the high school social hierarchy would suffer.

But if we weren't at Eastline...

My thoughts wandered to a few days ago, when we'd hidden in a janitor's closet to keep Principal Lee from catching us in the girls' locker room together. Brett had taken the opportunity to kiss me, and before I knew what was happening, I'd lost my shirt. At least now I understood how my best friend, Morgan, could lose her head over so many guys and end up naked in bed with them. Teenage hormones were powerful things, especially when you factor in a great kisser like Brett.

I rummaged through my drawers until I found the perfect T-shirt. The mid-September day promised to be warm and sunny, but the hickey on my shoulder prevented me from wearing a tank top, so I paired it with a pair of shorts and threw my frizzy hair up in a ponytail.

The doorbell was ringing as I ran down the stairs. I opened the door and pulled Brett in before someone could see him. "You must have some kind of death wish."