Confessions of a Queen B* (17 page)

“But running isn’t as fun.”

“Football?”

“Still not as fun.”

Would sex be fun with him? “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Just making an observation. Perhaps you should consider it.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think Taylor had blabbed about my virginal status, and he was using it to torment me. “Is this some kind of lame pickup line?”

He sent me a wicked grin that sent shivers straight to the pit of my lower stomach. “What do you think?”

Mr. DePaul interrupted me before I could reply. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Wyndham?”

Part of me wanted to melt under the table in complete mortification. The other part of me wanted to call Brett out. “Brett was just talking about how he could reduce his stress level.”

“As excited as you two are to be working on your assignment, please keep your discussions for after class.” Then he went back to lecturing.

I closed my eyes and wished I could get up and walk out of class right now.

I didn’t need them open to know Brett was leaning closer. His scent grew stronger, and my heart rate spiked as though I was on a treadmill that just increased the incline and speed at the same time. “Your face is red,” he whispered.

Who needed exercise when I had Brett nearby? “Shut up.”

He retreated, quietly laughing as he did. This round was his. He’d successfully gotten a rise out of me, and that was all he seemed to care about until the end of class. Once the bell rang, he revived the subject. “You really need to find a way to loosen up.”

“Or my stress levels will reach yours?”

“At least I know how to handle it.”

“Oh yes, I forgot, you have a fuck buddy.”

That wiped the grin off of his face.

And just in time for Summer to appear. She glared at me from the doorway.

I grabbed my bag, relieved to be baby-free for the rest of the day, and paused long enough to say to her, “You might want to help Brett unwind.”

More than likely, she’d offer him a blow job in the parking lot.

I didn’t care. Let the hornball have her.

I had a meeting with Morgan at The Purple Dog.

***

“You okay?” Morgan asked as soon as I arrived.

“Why?” I snapped. I’d taken the bus like I’d always done because parking was a nightmare in the U-District, but even the extra time it took using public transportation hadn’t quelled the boiling pot of emotions left over from fourth period.

“Because you seem all on edge about something.”

“Brett.”

I didn’t need to say more. Understanding bloomed in her eyes, and she nodded sympathetically. “Just make it until Friday, Alexis.”

“I’m trying.”

Gavin swung by our table, diverting Morgan’s attention from me. She gave him a smile that lit up her face, but he barely acknowledged it. Instead, he said to me, “Hey, Professor, whatcha going to have?”

“Is it too early for vodka?”

His grin left me wondering if he’d be happy to supply it for me in exchange for something. “Depends.”

“Never mind. Just a soda—diet.”

“You got it, babe.”

Babe? My spine grew hackles, arching in indignation from the derogatory term.

Morgan grabbed my wrist, silently urging me to get my shit together.

It worked long enough to let Gavin get out of ear range. “You seriously like this guy?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact he’s hot and in college and has those narrow hips that are just perfect for riding?”

I leaned on the table, massaging my temples. “Why does everything today revolve around sex?”

“It revolves around sex every day—you’re just too wrapped up in yourself to notice it.” She took a sip of her coffee through a straw and flashed Gavin another million-watt smile when he delivered my can of Diet Coke. “So what did Brett do today?”

“Actually, it started yesterday.” Thankfully, Morgan had the patience to wait for me to spill my guts about the meeting at my house before saying anything. “Just when I think he’s above most of the boys in our class, he does something completely immature.”

“Your problem is just that—he’s a boy. You need a man.”

“He said I was too uptight and that sex might help me cope with my stress better.”

“He’s right.” She set her cup down and hid behind her copy of Aristotle’s
Poetics
.

“Thanks for your support. Gee, and here I thought you were my best friend.”

She peered over the top of the book. “I am your best friend, which is why I’m agreeing with him. Sex is fun. You’d probably enjoy it if you gave it a try. You’re just too picky.”

“I’d like to know I’d be with someone who respected me and my body, thank you.”

“All men respect a woman who’s comfortable with her sexuality and doesn’t just use her body as a bartering chip. You just need to do it and get this whole ‘losing your virginity’ thing out of your system. Then, once you no longer have that hang-up, the fun can begin.”

“I wish it was that easy.” In truth, I wished I was more like Morgan when it came to boys and sex. She didn’t play games. She didn’t suffer from slut-shaming or morning-after regrets. To her, sex was purely physical and nothing more. I was too much of a coward to follow her path. I suspected I’d form some sort of emotional attachment—good or bad—to the first guy I slept with.

Morgan went back to reading, and I started working on this week’s blog post. Since sex was still on my mind, I decided to do a piece on the objectification of women in light of the recent locker room videos.

Gavin came by about an hour later, pulling up a chair. “So, what are you working on today?”

Morgan held up her book. “Aristotle.”

“A blog post,” I replied while I typed.

Gavin peered around my shoulder at my screen. “Feminist?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Nope.” He crossed his arms over the back of the chair. “I think women have a right to do whatever they want, babe.”

My shoulders tightened every time he called me that. “Then why do you sound like you’re indulging me?”

Morgan hissed my name and sent me another “shut the hell up” look, but Gavin didn’t notice.

“Because I think you’re going down the wrong path of feminism there. I mean, yeah, women shouldn’t be objectified and pointed to and giggled at and all that, but in the same respect, most women want a double standard. They walk around in clothes that highlight their best assets and then smack us guys for noticing them.”

“There’s a difference between looking and touching.”

“Totally, but what you women don’t realize is how much power you have over a man. I can’t tell you how many of my friends have been completely pussy-whipped by a woman who knows how to use her body.”

“So you’re saying that we use sex to manipulate men?” I glanced across the table, having heard a variation of this argument from Morgan a hundred times before.

She took my cue and jumped in. “Not all women are like that. Some women just like sex.”

“And more power to them for it.” Gavin winked at her.

I hoped this little discussion would end with the two of them hooking up so I wouldn’t have to endure his company much longer.

“Besides,” he continued, his voice turning slow and seductive, “there’s objectification of women as an object of appetite, and then there’s the worship of women as an equal partner in mutual desire.”

Morgan got lovey-dovey eyes when she heard his line of bullshit. “That’s such a profound statement.”

I’d heard it before, too. “Where did you read that?”

He cleared his throat and looked away from me. “I came up with it on my own.”

“Funny, because my dad published a paper discussing the same thing several years ago. Perhaps you’ve heard of him—Dr. Grant Wyndham?”

He still refused to meet my gaze. “I got to go back to work.” He bolted for the counter, leaving a pissed-off Morgan glaring at me.

“Damn it, Alexis, why do you have to act like such a know-it-all bitch?”

“Because he was totally trying to pass my dad’s stuff off as his own.”

“But what if he meant it?”

“You mean you actually believe him?”

“Argh, you’re impossible.” She slammed her book on the table and disappeared down the hall to the bathroom.

Thirty seconds later, Gavin was back at my table. “So Grant Wyndham’s your dad?”

“Yes,” I replied, not looking up from my keyboard as I continued my rant on sex-crazed assholes.

“I’m a big fan of his work.”

“I noticed.”

“Perhaps we can hang out sometime and discuss it over dinner or a drink or something?”

My train of thought slammed on the brakes, and I froze mid-sentence. I lifted my gaze. “Are you asking me out?”

Gavin straightened up from his typical slouch. “Yeah.”

“You do realize that Morgan has a serious case of the hots for you and that’s a shitty thing for any girl to do to her best friend?”

He nodded.

“And you’re asking me out instead of her?”

He nodded again.

“Why?”

“Because you’re cooler than her. I mean, she seems nice and all, but she’s got some serious baggage, if you know what I mean.”

Boy, did I ever. “Since you’re a philosophy student, let me give you a little insight about women, especially best friends. We don’t go out with guys our best friend is crushing on. It’s sort of an unspoken rule. Got it?”

“Yeah, but if she wasn’t interested in me?”

I wanted to say fat chance. Thankfully, Morgan’s return spared Gavin the reality check he had coming.

“You’re brave, coming back here after Alexis was so rude to you,” she said, laying her hand on his arm and practically cuddling up to him.

He gave her a half-hug that screamed “just friends” and added some breathing room between them when it ended. “I wanted to let her know how cool I thought her dad was and what an inspiration his writing’s been for me.”

Oh. My. God. The guy was such a player. And Morgan was stupid enough (or maybe just horny enough) to fall for his crap.

“Yeah, Grant’s one of the experts on the philosophy of love and sex.” Morgan coyly bit her bottom lip with the last word, making it very clear what she’d like with Gavin.

I wondered if he had enough decency not to take advantage of her invitation and use her just for a quick screw. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to get tangled up in her baggage. He added another step between them. “He’s awesome.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, continuing to backpedal. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I got to work.”

“Bye.” Morgan gave him a flirtatious little wave, her eyes glued to his butt as he left.

I watched him disappear into the back room before saying, “He’s such a douche.”

“Alexis!” Morgan snapped her head back to me. “He was just trying to apologize.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Then what were you two talking about?”

I debated whether to mention that he was hitting on me. “We were talking about my dad.”

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I wish we could do a parent swap.”

“You want my mom?”

“She’s not much different from my mom. Besides, your dad is awesome.”

He was—when he wasn’t chasing after girls half his age. “I’ll agree to a parent swap, but only if you take Taylor.”

“Okay, that’s the deal breaker.” She sat up and opened her copy of
Poetics
. “But please, stop being so hard on him. You’re going to scare him away.”

And what if I thought that was in her best interest?

But I kept my mouth shut. Gavin was making it clear he wasn’t interested in her. Hopefully, Morgan would get the hint soon and move on to someone else.

Chapter 14

“Jared Von Houser, if you’re going to call out your ex-girlfriend for cheating on you by spray painting her name on the side of the school, try to remember that “slut” only has one T in it. We don’t want our school defiled by spelling errors.”

The Eastline Spy

March, Freshman Year

I woke up Wednesday morning with an odd swirling of anticipation in my stomach. By the time I reached school, it had progressed to a definite variation of queasiness softened only by the fact Brett had an entourage around him when he dropped off Junior and didn’t have time for any conversation.

When fourth period came around, I was completely on edge, and I knew why.

I was going to be home alone with Brett in an hour.

Today’s lecture was on nonphysical ways to relieve stress—which hopefully meant Brett wouldn’t bring up sex or my need for it again.