The Queen B* Strikes Back Read online

  “No, I just wanted to go to the party. But Summer told me she knows you saw them together, just like she wanted.”

  I’d been set up. I should’ve known.

  I made sure my face was blank before I turned around. “Well, tell her thanks for revealing what a two-timing man-whore Brett really is. She might need to be careful with him. After all, if he cheated on her once, he’ll do it again.”

  Of course, she deserved it, but I kept that part to myself.

  Taylor’s mouth fell open, and her eyes grew round. Once again, I’d surprised her, and knowing she’d be reporting all this to Summer in a few minutes made every moment of my performance worth it.

  “I don’t see anything that will work. I’ll just swing by the mall instead.”

  Taylor caught my arm as I left her room. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

  “Nope. If you don’t believe me, Gavin’s number is on my desk, along with the address to the party at this frat house. Let Summer play with high school boys. I’ve moved on to college men.”

  I knew the second I left the house, I’d set the gossip mill in action, and it would get back to Brett. Things couldn’t have gone any smoother. My plan was in action, and even though it would mean enduring the company of a world-class idiot like Gavin, it would serve as a blow to Brett’s pride. By the end of the night, he’d know I’d forgotten all about him.

  But first, I had to endure the other place I didn’t want to be caught dead at—the mall.

  ***

  As much as I hated the mall, I ended up spending most of the afternoon there finding the perfect ensemble. I went back and forth over a dress or pants, but finally, I decided that a dress would be too far out of my comfort zone. This was a frat party, not a formal, and I wanted something that could withstand a deluge of beer. My favorite jeans would work on the bottom, and for the top, I found a sleeveless shirt that was a step up from my normal tank tops and would be more than adequate. After all, if I was going to take a selfie with Gavin to send to Brett, I wanted to make sure I looked my best.

  The next stop was to a makeup store, where I let them use my face as a palette to apply all the makeup I’d need for the evening. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but it was enough to accentuate my eyes and make them looker bluer than normal. I guiltily bought a lip gloss and a tube of mascara after they finished, since those were the two things I might actually use in the future. By the time I got home and changed, it was almost eight.

  My stomach rumbled, and I was in the process of rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat when the doorbell rang.

  One of these days, I might learn to look out the window or the peephole before opening the door. But since I lived in a boring upper middle class suburb where the cops are so bored, they all swarm around the one person who dared to go a mile over the speed limit in a school zone, I didn’t bother.

  Big mistake.

  As soon as I opened the door, Brett barged in. A steely look of determination graced his face when he entered, only to fall into shock when he saw me. “Whoa! Alexis, you look…”

  “Go away.” I shoved him out the door and tried to close it, but he wedged his foot in the doorjamb. Once I realized I couldn’t physically remove him, I went straight for the kitchen, not caring if he followed my instructions or not.

  “Not until we talk.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will alter what I saw or heard last night.” I grabbed a bag of protein chips and my purse. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”

  Brett caught my arm and jerked me back so I collided with his chest. My traitorous body wanted to melt against him, but I managed to keep my head on straight for once and struggled against him.

  “Lexi, I’m not letting go until I have a chance to clear the air.”

  I jabbed him under the ribs with my elbow. He released me with a grunt of pain just as Taylor appeared in the kitchen.

  I had an audience, so I continued my performance. “Why should I believe anything you say? All this time, you said there was nothing between you and Summer, that you two were only friends. But I knew you weren’t being honest, and catching you two talking about me and then sticking your tongues down each other’s throats last night was all the confirmation I needed. So go back to Summer. You two deserve each other.”

  The anguish that washed over his face matched what was brewing in my heart, but I refused to give in to it. I had to be strong. I had to show him that he and Summer hadn’t won.

  He swallowed hard and straightened his spine. “I know you and Summer have this feud going on, and after what you did to her in sixth grade—”

  “After what I did to her?” That stopped me in my tracks. “Are you kidding me?”

  “She told me all about how you read her diary aloud in the lunchroom.”

  All the pain and humiliation from that day ambushed me like a spring-loaded trap, and I stumbled back. My eyes stung, and my throat tightened. “And you believed her?”

  “Of course. After reading your blog, why shouldn’t I?”

  Time for the second blow. God, it hurt worse than a sucker punch to the gut. But now I knew why he’d sided with her.

  I shook my head. “No, it was the other way around. It was my diary she read aloud. My secrets she exposed. My reputation she tarnished to improve her own. And if you don’t believe me, ask anyone who was there. Richard. Ren. Sanchez. Morgan.” I rattled off a few more names before pointing to my sister. “Hell, even ask Taylor. They’ll tell you what really happened that day.”

  Tears threatened to spill over if I stayed there any longer, so I made a break for the garage and hopped in my car. By the time I’d reached the 520 bridge, the shaky breaths ceased, and my head cleared.

  Leave it to Summer to make herself the victim in all this.

  And Brett had been gullible enough to believe her.

  It might’ve explained why he defended her, but that still didn’t excuse him kissing her.

  I banged my hands against the steering wheel. Stupid boys! But he’d revealed where his loyalties lay, and I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t on my side. One more reason I should be thankful to discover that before I’d gotten in too deep.

  Chapter Twenty

  It took me almost half an hour to find a parking spot, and once I did, I had another fifteen-minute walk before I reached Gavin’s frat house. I sent him a text message letting him know I was en route, and much to my surprise, he was waiting for me on the front lawn when I arrived.

  “Alexis, babe, you look smokin’ hot.” He planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek before flinging his arm around my shoulders and leading me inside.

  Despite the fact Gavin had probably smoked away what little bit of a brain he had, I had to admit, he was rather attractive as far as guys went. Yes, he was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans that concealed what seemed to be kind of a scrawny physique, but he had golden blond hair that grazed his shoulders and eyes the color of the sky on a clear winter day. He was someone my dad would probably hang with, and based on the looks some of the girls were giving him as we entered the frat house, he was someone they wouldn’t mind cozying up with, too.

  The looks of admiration he received bolstered my confidence. He could probably have a fair number of the girls there, but he’d chosen me to be his date tonight.

  The place was packed, and I shed the denim jacket I’d worn. Now it was my turn to field a host of stares, mostly from the guys in the room. Heat prickled my skin, and I fought the urge to hide in the corner. I wasn’t the type to want to attract attention, yet somehow, I’d managed to do so anyway, maybe because I was with him.

  “Let me get you a drink,” Gavin said before squeezing his way through the crowd and out of the room.

  Loud music blasted from the speakers, and I had a sense of déjà vu from last night, only this party magnified everything. The number of people. The scents of cologne and beer and smoke. The loud chatter that merged into a wordless din. T
he push and shove as people danced or moved from one room to the other.

  I retreated to a corner and ended up bumping into someone behind me. My legs wobbled, but a hand reached out to keep me from falling flat on my face. I looked back to thank my rescuer, only to see a vaguely familiar face. “Josh?”

  “Alexis?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was invited to the party by Gavin.”

  His brows drew together, forming a worried crease above his nose. “But I thought you and Brett—?”

  “Brett’s with Summer Hoyt,” I corrected. “And I’m here to enjoy the party.”

  Gavin appeared just in time. He held out one of the cups of beer in his hands. “Drink up, babe.”

  I inwardly cringed every time he called me that, but I took a sip.

  Gavin laughed at the way my face puckered up from the bitter taste. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not what I’m used to.”

  “It’s an IPA. Only the best for you.”

  I had no idea what an IPA was, but I forced a smile on my face. “You’re too sweet.”

  “This way to the fun and games.” Gavin draped his arm around me again and led me away from Josh, but not before I caught a hint of a frown from the former quarterback.

  The partygoers forced me to walk hip-to-hip with Gavin, but to his credit, he actually tried to shield me from the drunkest offenders. We weaved through the maze of the house, Gavin stopping to high-five guys along the way, until we came to a room with several tables containing cups of beer set up in triangles at each end. We stopped at one, and he said, “We have the next game.”

  Crap! He literally wasn’t joking about the fun and games. And of course, I was competitive enough to want to put on a good showing. I fixed my attention on what was happening at the table. Two teams of two stood at either end of the table and tossed table tennis balls into the cups on the other end. When a ball landed in a cup, someone from the other team had to drink the contents. With each round, more and more cups disappeared until the winner sank his ball into the last cup.

  Gavin moved to the losing team’s side of the table and started filling plastic cups from the keg in the center of the room. “Set ‘em up for me, babe.”

  I placed the ten partially filled cups in a triangle, much like racking up pool balls, and retrieved two ping-pong balls.

  Then the pancake song came on, reviving my anguish. I followed my mom’s advice and turned to alcohol to soothe it, chugging the bitter beer in my cup.

  “Ready to play some beer pong?” Gavin asked with a huge grin on his face.

  My stomach was already declaring that it hated me. No wonder Brett didn’t drink. But I forced a smile on my face. “Sure.”

  Our team went first, and Gavin handed me the balls. “If you lob it straight in, they have to drink one cup. If you bounce it in, they can swat it away, but if you make it, they have to drink two cups. If you get both balls in one cup, they have to drink three. Got it?”

  “Yeah.” No risk, no reward, but since this was my first time playing, I decided to go the safe route. I tossed a ball up in the air and missed the first time. The second ball, however, bounced between the rims of the cups before falling into one.

  Gavin raised his arms in the air. “Great shot!”

  However, when the next team took their turn, they hit two cups. Gavin picked them off the table and handed them both to me. “Drink up.”

  For the first time in my life, I wanted to drink just to take the edge off of my angst. I took the first cup and downed it, thankful it wasn’t as bitter as the IPA that Gavin had given me earlier. The second cup went down even easier.

  “You’re a pro at this,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Now let’s kick their asses.”

  Gavin was the true pro at this. His two shots sailed into the same cup, forcing the other team to guzzle three of the cups. Then he skillfully knocked away our opponent’s shots after they bounced on the table.

  It was my turn again, and inspired by my teammate’s play, I decided to take a risk and bounced the ball on the table when the other team appeared to be distracted. Thankfully, it landed in a cup. The next shot was batted away, but at least I’d succeeded in removing two more cups from the table.

  Unfortunately, the next guy repeated what Gavin did, and I was forced to drink three more cups of beer. It wasn’t that much—maybe only a couple of gulps in each—but by the end of the game, a warm flush filled my veins.

  A last-minute trick shot by Gavin won us the game, and we took the place as the reigning champions at the table. We set up our side of the table with fresh beer and cups, and took on the next team. We kept winning, and I lost track the number of games played. Maybe it was the fifth or the sixth game that my head finally turned fuzzy, and my reflexes started to slow. By the final game, I’d only hit one cup before the other team beat us.

  Of course, it didn’t help that Gavin’s hand had found a permanent resting spot on the exposed skin along the small of my back. His touch gave me the creeps, and I struggled not to shake him off every time he reached for me.

  “Tough break, babe,” he said, nuzzling my neck and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Why don’t we find a place to sit down and talk philosophy?”

  “Sounds great.” The room started to spin as I took the first few steps, and I grabbed him. “I definitely could use some water, too.”

  “No problem. I have some upstairs.”

  As we pushed our way through the party, the effects of the beer became evident. I was drunk. Maybe not falling on my face, puking my guts out drunk, but definitely out of control and unsteady. And definitely at the point where I might need to take the bus home. My legs felt like rubber, and I clung to Gavin with each step.

  Of course, he didn’t seem to mind the closeness, and his hand strayed to my bottom as we moved through the house to the stairs.

  “My room’s up here,” he said as he helped me up to the second floor. “It’ll be nice and quiet in there.”

  My head throbbed in time with the bass beat of the music. All I wanted was someplace quiet enough to hear my own thoughts, even if it meant going to his room and suffering a discussion of philosophy with him. Maybe after an hour or so, I’d be sober enough to attempt to go home.

  Of course, the fact that I thought I saw Brett in the crowd below only confirmed I was drunk. It had to have been a beer-induced hallucination.

  Gavin led me to a room and closed the door behind us. It was small, containing a lone twin bed in the corner and walls covered with posters from indie rock bands and pictures of beaches. A small bookshelf caught my attention, and I gravitated toward that. Sure enough, all three of my dad’s books were on it. I flipped one open, surprised at how well worn the pages were.

  “Told you I was a big fan of your dad’s,” Gavin said just before he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed his lips to the nape of my neck.

  I stiffened and drew in a sharp breath. It was one thing to come up to talk, but something in the way his hands moved across my bare stomach told me he wasn’t interested in talking. And I’d been stupid drunk enough to take him at his word.

  Scrambling for a distraction, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So, do you want to talk about my dad’s theories on intimacy?”

  “I’d much rather test them out.” He spun me around and covered my mouth with his.

  The first thought that crossed my mind was, Holy crap!

  The next was, Ew!

  Gavin kissed with a drunken sloppiness that matched his baggy clothes. It was wet and uncoordinated and way too invasive for my tastes.

  I shoved him back. “I think you have the wrong idea about me.”

  “Oh, come on, Alexis. I bet you’re as easy as your friend.”

  His insult about Morgan lit a fire of anger within me, and I started for the door. “I’m out of here.”

  He grabbed me by the waist and pushed me back on his bed. “Don’t
be a party pooper. I bet you’re going to like it.”

  Panic replaced my anger, but my arms couldn’t move fast enough. The beer slowed my reflexes and dulled my strength. Before I knew what was happening, Gavin had me pinned to the mattress with all of his weight pressed against me.

  “Stop,” I ordered.

  He chuckled and ran his tongue along my neck. “Playing hard to get, huh?”

  “No.” I tried to roll him off of me, but he was heavier than his lanky frame suggested. “I mean, stop it right there. Get off of me.”

  “Oh, babe, give me a chance. You know you want it.”

  His hand slid to my breasts, and my heart jackhammered in my chest. No matter how hard I struggled, he found a way to hold me down. And the more I told him no, the more aggressive he got. His kiss turned brutal, silencing my pleas for him to stop. He pulled down one strap of my top and shoved his hand into my bra. His hips ground against mine in a threatening tempo that let me know what lay in store if I didn’t get away from him.

  I tried to fight him off, but my arms and legs flopped around like limp spaghetti, and my mind was bogged down by too much beer. But I could still scream.

  “No! Get your hands off me. Stop it!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, praying someone would hear me over the loud music and dozens of conversations below.

  A few seconds later, I heard the sweetest sound I’d heard all night.

  Someone knocked on his door and jiggled the locked doorknob.

  “Go away,” Gavin snapped, his fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans. “We’re busy.”

  “Help me!” I sat up and lunged for the door, but Gavin caught me by the straps of my top. The material ripped free, exposing my bra, but his actions slowed my momentum enough for him to shove me back down on the mattress.

  “I’m trying to help you, babe,” he said, unzipping his pants. “You’re so going to thank me after I’m done with you.”

  My fear would’ve choked me had it not been for the bang that came from the door. Whoever was out there had heard me, and they were coming to my rescue.