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Published by Amazon Digital Services on December 1st, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Romance
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Source: Rock Star PR
The Queen B*, Alexis Wyndham, has only three rules when it comes to dating that star quarterback, Brett Pederson:
1. No obligations to spend every waking moment with each other.
2. No public displays of affection while at Eastline High.
3. And absolutely, under no circumstances, will she ever go to the Homecoming dance.
But as her life is completely upended time and time again, she begins to wonder if some rules are meant to be broken.
I’d never greeted a Monday morning with dozens of giddy butterflies in my stomach. Usually, I reserved my most dramatic sighs and biting comments for Mondays because—let’s face it—they suck. But this Monday morning was different.
I, Alexis Wyndham, was officially Brett Pederson’s girlfriend.
But I still wasn’t ready to announce that to the world.
As we floated in a canoe among the water lilies in Lake Washington yesterday, I lay down a few ground rules to help me ease into this unprecedented (and unimaginable) situation. After all, it’s not every day the Queen B* and the Quarterback become a couple. Dropping that bomb on our classmates could cause a rift in the space-time continuum.
Or at least cause my nemesis, Summer Hoyt, to have one very public and dramatic meltdown.
Rule number one: I refused to be one of those disgustingly cute couples that were joined at the hip between classes. We were dating, not merging our lives and identities into a single life-form. Brett had his group of friends and I had mine, and until recently, they never intertwined because I despised most of the in-crowd. If I hadn’t gotten to know the real Brett during a class project, I would’ve continued to write him off as a dumb jock.
Lesson learned, but still…
Rule number two: no public displays of affection at school. Not that I had any problem with PDAs with Brett. I liked kissing him. But I also had been known to lose control when I was with him…and lose articles of clothing. And after having that awkward run-in with my mom and her boyfriend’s PDA on our living room couch last week, I’d rather not make a spectacle of myself in front of everyone. It opened up the doors to ridicule.
Rule number three: I wouldn’t go to Homecoming with Brett. I’d made it this far through high school without plunging into that cheesy sea of balloons and crepe paper while wearing a silly sequin-laden dress, and I wasn’t going to cross that line during my senior year.