Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 54

"Just want to make sure you show that Eastline pride," he said with a charming grin. "After all, I am SGA president."

Brett was so perfect, I had to force myself to stay angry at him. He was more than a hot bod, although I'd seen enough of the muscles under the shirt to want to run my hands over them. He was more than a handsome face, although there were times I could lose myself while staring into his warm brown eyes. He was more than the star of the football team, although I admit I was beginning to have new appreciation for the sport since watching him play.

He was an annoyingly all-around good guy with a sharp mind and a personality that seemed to put everyone at ease, including me. He was the only person who could get past my prickly outer shell and make me swoon.

Of course, I'd never let him know that.

He handed me a rolled-up T-shirt. "I brought you one of my Eastline shirts."

"Why?" I unfurled it and made a show of wrinkling my nose as though I were disgusted. It was a standard Eastline football shirt with a number on the back—one I'd seen dozens of players on the team wear around town. But then I caught a whiff of his scent, and my pulse cranked up a notch. Dear God, the shirt smelled like him. I resisted the urge to cuddle with it, especially since the source of the scent was standing right in front of me.

"So when you're sitting in the stands next to Richard, you'll at least show some school spirit." He winked before he closed the gap between us. "I thought you weren't going to come to the game last night."

"Richard needed a ride," I lied. In truth, I'd been the one to offer him a ride. I'd become a Brett addict over the last two weeks, and I couldn't decline a chance to watch him play. Thankfully, Richard—my other best friend next to Morgan—was a huge football fan.

"I could've sworn I saw you cheer when I threw that touchdown pass."

"I think you may have suffered a concussion when that lineman buried you into the turf."

He chuckled, but continued to inch closer until his lips were a mere breath from mine. "Brushing up on your football slang?"

"Only because I have to listen to Richard." My mouth was dry. My voice was shaking, and I wasn't even sure I could form a coherent sentence, but I refused to give in to him. If he knew how attracted to him I really was, he might use my dark secret against me.

After all, that was what my former best friend, Summer, did to me in junior high.

A hint of a challenge danced in his eyes, making the golden flecks in them appear brighter than before.

My head swam, and my knees wobbled. Even though my mind was screaming Danger! I couldn't look away. If he kissed me again, would I fold?

His grin widened as though he'd glimpsed my moment of weakness, and he backed away. "If you want to change into that for the carwash, I can give you a minute."

"As opposed to helping me into it?"

Shit! Where did that come from? I was trying to fight my attraction to him, not invite him to help me get naked. Besides, his shirt was big enough to expose the mark he'd made on my shoulder a few days ago.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Is that an offer?"

"No!" I managed to blurt out before I did something stupid. I added a few more steps between us, and my mind immediately cleared. "You're such a hornball."

"I'm a seventeen-year-old guy, and you just propositioned me."

"No, I didn't." I flung the T-shirt he'd given me on the banister and pointed to my own shirt. "Read this."