I caved.
At six o'clock, I met Brett at the locker room door.
My breath hitched when I saw him. He was shirtless and looked so good it bordered on criminal. His brown skin stretched over well-defined muscles that would have a sculptor in ecstasy. I was counting my way down his six-pack when I came to the waist of his low-slung, tight-fitting pants. What I wouldn't give to let my gaze keep traveling south.
Instead, I got a view of the black infant carrier hanging from his outstretched hand and the mechanical doll that was becoming the bane of my existence.
"Thank you again, Lexi."
I didn't dare open my mouth to correct him. I might start drooling like an idiot.
"I'll meet you back here after the game." He ducked back into the room filled with other half-naked boys, some of whom I wished had kept their shirts on.
I wandered around campus for the next half hour before ending up back at my car, trying to decide if it was worth hanging around to watch the game versus going out to a coffee shop with Junior. I hated to admit that Taylor was right-I didn't have any plans for tonight. Morgan had invited me to hang out at The Purple Dog, but when she heard I had baby-duty, she told me to stay home. I had no idea what Richard did on Friday nights. I felt alone-really, really alone-and for a moment, I wished I had more friends.
The sounds of conversations punctuated by laughter drifted over from the football field, mingling with the steady rat-a-tat-tat of the drum line. People walked past me with smiles on their faces in anticipation of the first home game of the season. My curiosity got the better of me, so I crept toward the stands, paid my admission, and stuck to the shadows in the hopes no one would recognize me.
"Oh my God, is that you, Alexis?" Richard asked from behind me.
I yelped and spun around. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry, but I needed to make sure hell hadn't frozen over." He gave me a fake shiver. "I thought you said you wouldn't be caught dead at a football game."
"Yeah, but unfortunately, I ended up with Brett Pederson's baby," I replied, gesturing to the doll strapped to my chest.
"You have no idea how many girls would love to be in your position. Hell, I'd love to have his baby except for, you know, the actual childcare part." He hooked his arm around mine. "Let's go find a seat, shall we?"
"You're here for the game?" Somehow, football didn't seem like an event that would attract Richard.
"I never miss them."
I stared at him like he'd grown another head. "But it's like the most caveman-macho thing out there."
"No, it's not." He pointed to the players who were warming up on the field. "Think about it. A bunch of guys wearing tight pants, slapping each other on the ass, tackling each other to the ground. The only thing that's more gay is wrestling."
He led us to an empty spot on the bleachers right in front of the bench and led us there. "I think this has a nice view, don't you think?" he asked as he sat down.
I looked to where he was pointing and discovered a nice view of Brett's ass. "Possibly."
"Are you sure you're straight? I mean, if I had a chance to work side by side with Brett, I'd be all over that boy."
"He's the most infuriating guy I've ever met."
"Denial." He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. "We need to have that therapy session over fro-yo and figure out a way to get you some action."
"I don't need any action with him."
"Bullshit. Besides, this isn't about needs. It's about wants, and I saw that little exchange between you two yesterday." He gave me an evil grin. "You totally want him."
"What I really want is to be done with high school and off to college."
"And I want to be in the middle of a Johnny Weir and Adam Lambert sandwich, but I still have to make do with what I have in the meantime. Like this." He held out his hands toward the field. "So, I'm making the best of it and rating all the players on my Gay-o-Meter."
Laughter forced its way up my throat and spilled over. I could just imagine Richard writing little comments along the roster about who he thought was hiding in the closet.
"But if you had a choice, would you rather be here or at a club on Capitol Hill?" I asked once I stopped laughing.
"Why not both in one night?" He pulled out his wallet and showed me the shiny new fake ID. "Morgan hooked me up."
"You look more twelve than twenty-one."
"Fuck you." He put away his wallet. "Actually, I take that back. I don't want to fuck you. Sorry, but you don't have a penis."
"No apologies necessary."
I scanned the stadium, taking in the atmosphere. The scents of kettle corn and hot dogs wafted over from the concession stand. The megawatt lights chased away the darkness and created a world of daytime brightness. The chants of the cheerleaders echoed through the crowd, growing louder by the second.
Beside me, Richard chanted right along with them, mocking their pompom shaking movements. At the end, he stood up and wiggled his ass like the dance team girls did in their tiny skirts below, earning matching frowns from Summer and Taylor. "See, I told you I'd make an awesome cheerleader," he said as he sat back down.
"I'm not arguing with you. I think it sucks that they wouldn't let you on the squad."
"They just aren't ready to handle all this." He gestured to his thin-framed body that made him look younger than his sixteen years.
"More like they were all worried you'd flirt with the players and steal their boyfriends."
"I like how you think." He laid his head on my shoulder. "One of the many reasons I love you, Alexis."
My heart hiccupped at that moment. I had to admit, it felt good to be loved. My thoughts turned to my conversation with Brett earlier today. "Richard, do you think I should try to be nicer?"
His eyes widened. "Have you been drinking?"
"No, but it's sometimes exhausting to be the Queen B, 24/7."
"I know it's always exhausting to re-establish your place at the beginning of the year, but don't go soft on me, please. If you do, then I lose the protection I've gained from being your friend."
I quirked a smile. "So is that the reason you're my friend? Because I offer you protection?"
"Damn straight, girlfriend. No one's going to bully me as long you're the Queen Bitch of Eastline. Of course, I'm dreading next year after you graduate and leave me here on my own."
"You'll be fine. And if you're still worried, I'll start prepping you to become the next Queen B."
"I don't know about that-it all depends on what the tiara looks like."
I bumped his shoulder with my own, laughing again and not caring who saw me. During the school day, I had to keep my game face on to rule as the Queen B. But now it was Friday night, and I was glad to have a friend I could joke around with, even if it meant letting others see I wasn't a total bitch to everyone.
"Besides," Richard continued, "I'm not sure I have enough bitchiness in me."
"You're as bitchy as the best of us."
"Aw, that's so sweet."
It was time for kickoff. As soon as the ball flew into the air, I was lost. I had no idea what the game was about or if I should cheer or boo the refs. Thankfully, Richard knew more than enough to explain the basics to me.
One thing was very clear, however. Brett was a god on the football field. He walked onto it like he owned it. All the players gathered around him, turning to him for guidance. And when he had the ball in his hands, things happened that electrified the crowd. Sometimes he chose to keep it for himself and run. Other times, he'd launch the ball down the field with such precision, it left me speechless.
It was after one of those plays that Richard turned to me and said, "Now you know why he's one of the top high school players on the West Coast."
"He's better than the other quarterback-I'm not going to argue with you there-but one of the top players? Really?"
"He already has eight colleges begging for him to sign with them."
"Wow." But I could see why. He made it look so easy, so effortless as he shot the football in a tight spiral toward Sanchez. All the wide receiver had to do was hold his hands out, and the ball fell into them.
The perfect pass.
I was up on my feet, jumping and shouting with the rest of the crowd as Sanchez scampered into the end zone for a touchdown.
Something rolled in my stomach when I realized what I was doing. I'd drunk the Kool-Aid and joined the cult.
I sat back down and crossed my arms, pressing the doll into my cleavage. "Does he have any flaws?"
"None that I can see," Richard said in a dreamy voice, "except for the fact he seems to have something for you and not me."
"You mean because he's straight?"
"No, I mean because he's staring right at you."