Don't Kiss the Quarterback: Billionaire Academy YA Romance Book 5 Read online

  “Thanks for your help,” I said, feeling myself tuck back into the shy factory setting I’d been built with. If this was my best friend, Camryn, back home in Idaho, she’d say something playful and funny to instantly catch Carson’s attention.

  I came up with exactly no clever one-liners. I couldn’t fake them if I wanted to.

  He stared at me for a few more seconds.

  “Oh. I’m Bailey,” I hurried to add.

  “You a junior?”

  “Senior,” I said, remembering to smile a few seconds after. Wordlessly, he reached for my fallen suitcase. I hurried to stop him. “It’s okay, I can get this.”

  Offering me the handle and a sideways smirk, he stepped back. “No worries. I was just on my way to practice. Getting my warmup before the warmup.”

  “Practice?”

  “Football.” His unbalanced grin rendered my insides the consistency of applesauce. Football. Right. So there was someone decent on the team after all.

  Carson tucked his lips into his teeth and tucked his hands into his pockets. I part-winced, part-smiled under the pressure of my turtle shell pack, waiting for something brilliant to say.

  Crickets. Nothing but crickets. If only the sun could burn me into cinders right now. My mind was a blank board, devoid of any witticisms or even just plain normal questions. Or what about gratitude? Couldn’t I just thank him for his help? Actually, I may have already done that.

  His brows raised as if questioning my sanity.

  “Cool. Well, I’ll see you around.”

  Too late, I realized I should have asked him what grade he was. If he was from here, how long he’d been going to school here. I could have even wished him luck at practice—those would all have been completely normal things to say, right?

  What was I doing? He was a football player. I didn’t do sports. Besides, it was better this way. Aside from my voice lessons, I didn’t want to like it here, let alone like any of the guys here. Technically, I still had a boyfriend, seeing as how Chravis and I didn’t break up before I left. He’d changed the spelling of his given name in an attempt to stand out. The T went to a CH.

  Taking Tate’s lame advice, I meandered behind a few other students who were chattering in groups and headed toward the dorm. My phone pinged in my back pocket, but I decided to make it to the dorm with my stuff first before checking to see who it was.

  The building was impressive, to say the least. Situated beside the lake, it had an impressive, wide tower to accentuate its colonial style. The tower’s dark dome contrasted with the building’s cream exterior, featuring stacks of large windows capturing sunlight. I rolled my suitcases through one of the many archways serving as the entrance.

  Inside, I inhaled the clean smell. Industrial carpet lined the halls, and I made my way down to room seventeen. A few doors were open, spewing music from within. Laughter ricocheted in another open door, and a few girls chattered together beneath a line of geometrical pictures hanging on the wall.

  With heaving relief, I dropped the backpack to the floor in front of my room. Thanks to Carson, I still had my room key. I inserted it, relieved to find the door responded. It would be just my luck today to have the key not work.

  “Whoa,” I said with a whisper. I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped. I’d never had this much space to myself before, nor had I ever slept on anything that resembled a bunk bed. The white bed was a loft, accessed by a ladder above a seating area.

  Two full bookshelves were available, ready for me to place some of these books onto. And a desk with a school-provided laptop sat ready for me.

  “This is awesome,” I said, dragging my monstrous backpack in all its weighted glory from the hall and into its final resting place. I hurried to retrieve my suitcases as well before shutting the door and sagging onto the bench below my bed.

  My entire body sighed. “I made it,” I said to the room, grateful to not be wandering with my huge load anymore. Phone in hand, I shot off a few texts, when the one I ignored earlier stole my attention.

  It was from Dad. You settled yet? he said.

  I had avoided him perfectly well back in Idaho, and in Reno, and every other place we lived before that while Mom tried finding her perfect new boyfriend via online dating. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to ignore Dad quite as easily here in Seattle. Whether I liked it or not, he was the only family I had within a hundred miles.

  Just got to my room, I replied, sending the same message to my mom and Camryn too, along with a few images of the Most Perfect Dorm Room.

  Great. Laurel has a delicious dinner planned, Dad said. Can we expect you?

  I closed the door and settled onto the wheelie chair at the desk. I just got here. I really should mingle...

  Cringe. I didn’t mingle.

  ...and get to know the other kids, I added. I should have told him I needed to unpack. That was completely true, but I didn’t think of saying as much until the lie had been sent.

  I didn’t get to know people. Or they didn’t get to know me, anyway. I was used to being the lone wolf. But Dad had paid for me to come here. I knew as much as anyone what a good opportunity this was. Dad was loaded, but I didn’t exactly want to live off of him for the rest of my life. I wanted to put my brains to good use and move as far across the country from him as possible the minute I could. If that meant suffering through one meal now, so be it.

  There’ll be plenty of time for mingling, Dad said. I’ll have a car pick you up at five. Can you be waiting out front of MLA?

  I began texting my decline when another text came.

  Besides, Laurel’s son will be there, Dad said. He goes to MLA too and is on the football team. Maybe you can be friends.

  “Great. More football players,” I muttered. Didn’t anyone else go to this school?

  My window offered a perfect view of the outdoor stadium with its fancy sound barrier things swooping high above the stands. There went all my excuses. More than that, though, possibility perked up inside of me. Sure, Tate had acted in the epitome of jerkhood, but Carson had said he was on the team too....

  Was he Laurel’s son? Blast, if only I’d asked more questions.

  Still, the prospect of dinner at Dad’s was becoming increasingly less repulsive by the minute.

  Okay. I can meet your driver at five.

  Was it totally sad that the idea of seeing Dad again bugged me, but the thought of dinner with whoever Laurel’s son was had my heart pounding with possibilities?

  Chapter Three

  Dad’s driver slowed at what I thought was a gated community. Turned out the gate was for only one house—the largest house I’d ever seen in person, with more levels and windows than any single person ever needed. My dad wasn’t exactly single, but still, this was way more house than two people required.

  The gate inched open with mechanized slowness, though its movement cranked my heart right along with it. The last time I saw Dad, he’d been wheeling his suitcase away from our house back in Pocatello. He’d hit it big, he’d said. His business had taken off. And he was running off with his secretary.

  Well, Dad, if you’re going to sabotage our family, what better way to do it than the stereotypical?

  Two years passed. He didn’t keep in touch. We moved four times in those two years, while Mom attempted to keep a job in the same town as her next online boyfriend. Depression hit her hard, and she struggled to get out of bed, let alone make it to a job. She claimed men helped her get through her crippled emotions. I wasn’t so sure about that, but who was I to judge?

  Fast forward to last year, the first time I started to feel settled since Dad left.

  Mom had found a job in Rexburg, Idaho, working as a receptionist in a dentist’s office. She hadn’t moved there to meet a guy—she’d moved there to escape from one. And it seemed like enough time had passed for her to be able to keep a regular schedule without breaking down in the middle of the day. I was so proud of her. Our hearts were healing. We were moving on.r />
  I wasn’t exactly the outgoing type, so making friends in the other towns we’d tried hadn’t worked, but suddenly, in Rexburg, Camryn McCaleb took me under her wing. She included me, not only during a junior class project where we interviewed her older brother who’d been serving in the Army, but after that as well. Calling me, texting me, having me help her spy on her crush. Cam had made me feel important and special, two things I hadn’t felt in so long.

  I’d been exactly where I wanted to be.

  I made one teeny mistake, though. When I first moved to Rexburg, I was miserable. After talking to the school counselor, she suggested that I attempt to graduate early, that I would be happier moving on. True, most of my classes were too easy. I took advanced placement courses, but I was ready for more.

  In any case, I decided to try the whole graduating-early thing. I was granted special permission to take the ACT early. And then I went and scored a thirty-five.

  Letters and emails had poured in from schools all over the country. Harvard, Princeton, Yale. Some schools I only knew of because I’d watched Gilmore Girls. Ivy Leagues were never in my league. Submitting to them was more a whim than anything else. I did my best to hide the letters, to keep them to myself while I sorted through my options. And then I got a call from my dad.

  “Is this a joke?” I asked Mom as she passed me the phone and told me who it was.

  “I wish it was,” she said. “Your dad heard about your scores.”

  Rock in stomach. “How? How does he even know?” My eyes had slid to Mom’s guilty expression.

  Oh. That was how.

  I’d considered hanging up on him, but he hadn’t called in over two years. Gritting my teeth, I answered. He’d told me about MLA. About its prestige, about how important it was that I finish my high school education in the best possible way, about how outstanding a school like that would look on my resume.

  “You want me to transfer?” Again?

  “I’ll pay your way,” he offered. “You’ll rub elbows with some of the most successful people’s kids on this side of the nation. You’ll have experiences you couldn’t dream of anywhere else. Come on, give it a try.”

  If I were going to transfer to any school, it would be Interlochen Arts Academy in Michigan. Josh Groban went there. Music was where my heart lay, but I knew he’d never go for that. I’d loved to sing since before I could talk.

  I’d told Dad no.

  After that, though, curiosity had gotten the better of me. I’d looked into the school and found out about Professor Granger. Music lessons here were unrivaled anywhere in the country, except maybe Interlochen. This school was my Interlochen.

  I talked it over with Mom and knew Dad had a point. Standing on his doorstep now, I approached the colossal front door and knocked.

  I prayed Dad wouldn’t open it. I prayed that Carson would be there, that maybe he could be a ray of sunshine in my gloom-beaten world. Carson had been the nicest person in this town so far. First the counselor doubting my course schedule. Then Tate totally blowing me off. Carson had been kind. He’d made me feel a small kind of special, but it was just enough.

  No one came to the door. I chewed my lip and glanced around the beautiful landscape. Small, decorative shrubs littered along the patio’s golden pavestones. Maybe I had the wrong house. I scraped the stair with my shoe, waiting, dreading for the door to open.

  Finally, footsteps sounded from the other side. Panic injected into my veins. Now was my chance. I could turn and run, hide in the bushes, call an Uber instead of the stuffy car Dad sent to pick me up from the school, which had already retreated into the house’s gigantic garage. But that car would still have to get through Dad’s security. I mean, come on, who has a whole freaking security guard station for his house?

  A billionaire. Right.

  That was okay. I was here to see Carson. My heart clogged my throat. My fingernails dug into my palms. The doorknob turned...

  ...and instead of a graying version of the man who cheated on my mom and abandoned his family, a teenage boy around my age answered. I took in a gasping, frog-bellow-sized gulp, ready with my surprise-face for when Carson’s gaze met mine.

  A bowling ball sank into my stomach. The one and only Tate Ingram was at my dad’s house? The boy who’d been making out outside school and refused to give me my tour? My gaze trailed from his blue muscle shirt with a tree and the Mt. Rainier Legacy Academy’s logo, to the fantastic fit of his white-stitched blue jeans, to the gray socks, and back up to his model-worthy face.

  Not Carson, handsome savior of flurrying dropped papers. This boy was too tall, too broad-shouldered, his shirt too tight against some seriously muscular arms. At least his lips were their normal size this time. That meant his girlfriend wasn’t here.

  Tate’s brows snapped down. “You? You’re Steven’s daughter?”

  Steven. Dad.

  “You’re Laurel’s son,” I said stupidly, though it was completely obvious.

  He rolled his eyes and stepped back. “You coming in or what?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” This pretty boy who weaseled out earlier was the son of the woman my dad left us for? No wonder he was so delightful. “Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  I folded my arms. “Nothing. It’s just that now I get why you were so accommodating earlier.”

  I hope he read my insult. Camryn was wearing off on me. I’d never been so blunt, but I remembered the night drive with her, with the snow flurrying so hard we could hardly see the road. I spilled my painful past to her, how bad it hurt that I hadn’t spoken to my dad in two years. And another conversation during snowfall, where I told her I wasn’t meant to fall in love. Camryn had said she was just waiting for some unsuspecting, lucky boy to realize how amazing I was.

  I’d never had anyone build me up as much as she did. It was definitely rubbing off.

  “Who’s there, Tate?” a woman’s voice called from within the mystical throng of this gigantic house. “Is it Bailey?”

  Heels clacked on the tile and then a beautiful brunette woman wearing a slimming, fiery orange dress that hugged her hips swayed out into the foyer. Her smile spread, accentuated by bright red lips.

  Her steps sped, increasing their tempo against the tile, like clicks on a keyboard. Arms wide, she tottered forward, struggling to move in her tight dress. Oh no. A hug was incoming. Before I could deflect or make some kind of too-obvious dive for the towering houseplant feet away, marking the corner of the entry room into a beige-happy sitting area, I found myself thoroughly enfolded and inhaling copious amounts of floral perfume.

  Laurel pulled back, beaming and keeping her hands on my arms. “You must be Bailey. So great to meet you. Steve has told me all about you and that brain of yours. She scored a 35 on her ACT, Tater. This girl is probably the smartest in her class.”

  Tater?

  “She’s in my class, Mom,” Tate said, his voice filled with eye rolls.

  She patted his cheek and gestured to me. “Come on in then. Wanda has such a divine spread for us to eat tonight. I hope you two like ribs. It’s not the most elegant meal, but it’s your Dad’s favorite.”

  Dazed from the cheerful attack, I walked around the elaborate centerpiece blocking the view of the stairs. I couldn’t help comparing this palace to the humble home I left behind. Dad had gone all out—or chances were, Laurel had—to decorate this place. I had heard she ran a company that staged buildings professionally, and clearly, she was good at what she did. The only homes I knew that looked this fancy were English manors in the movies Mom and I loved to watch.

  The same seed of bitterness I’d been battling since Dad left sprouted a few more leaves. It wasn’t that I wanted to live in an elaborate palace. I couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly why the sight of his new house or the thoroughly unwanted hug I’d just received was a thorn under my skin, but dislike instantly settled within me.

  The feeling only in
tensified when Dad sauntered around the corner and greeted me with a full smile as though the past never happened, as though it was perfectly normal for him to abandon his family and live in a completely different state, for his new wife to welcome me as if she wasn’t the reason my family fell apart.

  “Bailey Bug,” he said in the same way he always did—a higher, fake pitch. It was as though he forgot I was almost eighteen, like his image of me as an eleven-year-old cemented in his brain because that was my age when he left home to increase his business in the first place.

  “Hi, Dad.” I wanted to muster a smile, but I couldn’t do it. I felt Tate’s eyes on me, and a single glance told me I was right. Even though he had acted so heartless earlier today, I wondered what this must be like for him too. Obviously, his parents weren’t together anymore either. Was it hard for him to be here, around my dad, or was this normal for him?

  The four of us headed into the fanciest dining room I’d ever seen. A glittering crystal chandelier dangled overhead, setting off the papered walls and long table set with decadent dishes that were topped with napkins folded into the shape of swans.

  Laurel directed us to our seats. Mouth downturned, Tate flicked the swan off his plate. I hid my smile. I did not want this cocky boy to know his actions had made me laugh.

  A woman wearing a white apron carried in a series of dishes and served each of our plates. Delicious, smoky aromas joined the glazed ribs, the steamed, butter-drenched green beans, and loaded mashed potatoes. This meal could rival the birthday dinner Mom had taken me to at Texas Roadhouse last year. Texas Roadhouse was my favorite.

  “You guys eat like this all the time?” I couldn’t help asking.

  Laurel laughed. “Not all the time. You’re our special guests. You and Tate. It’s not every year your children are seniors in high school.”