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Authors: Crista McHugh
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looking halfway decent. I actually managed to get some sleep between crying fits. Maybe because I followed Brett’s advice about the diaper-bottle-burp drill. My hair was tamed, my teeth were brushed, and my Hello Kitty tee was giving the world a middle finger.
Even better was the fact Brett stood waiting at my locker with another steaming cup of coffee. He eyed my shirt. “Well, that’s saying something.”
I grinned. “Ready for Junior?”
We swapped the doll and the coffee, but as he was putting on the carrier, he cleared his throat and said, “Um, can I ask a favor of you, Alexis?”
“What?” It was bad enough that it was a Friday during football season. On game days, the football players paraded around campus in their jerseys like they were kings, and the cheerleaders pranced around in short skirts that left little to the imagination. Hence why I chose the “Up Yours” T-shirt this morning.
“I need you to watch Junior tonight.”
“You’ve got to be frigging kidding me.”
I started to turn away, but he caught my shoulder and guided me back with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from a testosterone-laced jock. “Just for the game tonight. I couldn’t get Sarah to babysit, and I don’t want to leave the doll in the locker room.”
“It’s my night off from the kid.”
“Please,” he said, turning those warm chocolate-colored eyes on me as though they might melt my resistance.
“I have plans,” I lied.
“No, you don’t. I already asked Taylor.”
Remind me to pay her back for that later.
“Since when is she the expert on my social calendar?”
“Ah, come on, Lexi, it’s just for a few hours. Pick up the doll before kickoff, let me play the game, and I’ll take him back as soon as it’s over. It’s better than the alternative.” He nodded down the hallway, where Sanchez and another football player were pretending to drop an alley-oop using some freshman’s homework.
Sanchez then crashed into the lockers and laughed it off like he meant to do it.
Idiot.
Brett gave me the look that probably made every girl in Eastline sigh, but when it didn’t work on me, he added, “Please.”
I closed my eyes, knowing I was going to regret the next few words that came from my mouth. “Fine, I’ll take him off your hands for a few hours.”
“Thank you, Lexi. Gotta run and make sure my star wide receiver doesn’t land on the DL before the game starts.” Brett took off down the hall and pulled Sanchez aside, hopefully telling him what dumbass he was being.
Less than thirty seconds later, I was stopped by a teacher and informed my shirt was in violation of the dress code.
I returned to my locker for my hoodie and zipped it just high enough to cover the offensive paw and appease the dress code enforcer. Then, as soon as she was out of sight, I lowered the zipper.
I hate high school.
***
It wasn’t until fourth period that I realized what I’d agreed to do. It started when Brett sat down next to me and said, “The game starts at seven, but if you could come by at six to take Junior, that’d be perfect.”
“You mean I have to come back here to get him? During a football game?” My pulse cranked up a notch. I’d managed to make it through three years of high school without attending a single football game, and he was trying to break my perfect record.
“Didn’t you hear what I said this morning?”
“No, I was too busy being pissed off that you were dumping the doll on me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”
I leaned closer to him, adding a threatening edge to my voice. “Are you suggesting I should try being nice?”
“Would it kill you?”
“It is much safer to be feared than loved,” I replied.
“This is not Renaissance Florence, and you are not Lorenzo de’ Medici,” he replied, totally catching my reference from Machiavelli’s The Prince .
I took in a deep breath, preparing to
Even better was the fact Brett stood waiting at my locker with another steaming cup of coffee. He eyed my shirt. “Well, that’s saying something.”
I grinned. “Ready for Junior?”
We swapped the doll and the coffee, but as he was putting on the carrier, he cleared his throat and said, “Um, can I ask a favor of you, Alexis?”
“What?” It was bad enough that it was a Friday during football season. On game days, the football players paraded around campus in their jerseys like they were kings, and the cheerleaders pranced around in short skirts that left little to the imagination. Hence why I chose the “Up Yours” T-shirt this morning.
“I need you to watch Junior tonight.”
“You’ve got to be frigging kidding me.”
I started to turn away, but he caught my shoulder and guided me back with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from a testosterone-laced jock. “Just for the game tonight. I couldn’t get Sarah to babysit, and I don’t want to leave the doll in the locker room.”
“It’s my night off from the kid.”
“Please,” he said, turning those warm chocolate-colored eyes on me as though they might melt my resistance.
“I have plans,” I lied.
“No, you don’t. I already asked Taylor.”
Remind me to pay her back for that later.
“Since when is she the expert on my social calendar?”
“Ah, come on, Lexi, it’s just for a few hours. Pick up the doll before kickoff, let me play the game, and I’ll take him back as soon as it’s over. It’s better than the alternative.” He nodded down the hallway, where Sanchez and another football player were pretending to drop an alley-oop using some freshman’s homework.
Sanchez then crashed into the lockers and laughed it off like he meant to do it.
Idiot.
Brett gave me the look that probably made every girl in Eastline sigh, but when it didn’t work on me, he added, “Please.”
I closed my eyes, knowing I was going to regret the next few words that came from my mouth. “Fine, I’ll take him off your hands for a few hours.”
“Thank you, Lexi. Gotta run and make sure my star wide receiver doesn’t land on the DL before the game starts.” Brett took off down the hall and pulled Sanchez aside, hopefully telling him what dumbass he was being.
Less than thirty seconds later, I was stopped by a teacher and informed my shirt was in violation of the dress code.
I returned to my locker for my hoodie and zipped it just high enough to cover the offensive paw and appease the dress code enforcer. Then, as soon as she was out of sight, I lowered the zipper.
I hate high school.
***
It wasn’t until fourth period that I realized what I’d agreed to do. It started when Brett sat down next to me and said, “The game starts at seven, but if you could come by at six to take Junior, that’d be perfect.”
“You mean I have to come back here to get him? During a football game?” My pulse cranked up a notch. I’d managed to make it through three years of high school without attending a single football game, and he was trying to break my perfect record.
“Didn’t you hear what I said this morning?”
“No, I was too busy being pissed off that you were dumping the doll on me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”
I leaned closer to him, adding a threatening edge to my voice. “Are you suggesting I should try being nice?”
“Would it kill you?”
“It is much safer to be feared than loved,” I replied.
“This is not Renaissance Florence, and you are not Lorenzo de’ Medici,” he replied, totally catching my reference from Machiavelli’s The Prince .
I took in a deep breath, preparing to
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