Page 4 of The Quarterback Sneak

I don’t wait for a response before I sprint to the bus stop because I know Tiff’s answer will always be yes. No matter how cute her baby is, spending a whole day with her can be exhausting. Girls like Honey don’t know just how good they have it. She’d have been sent away for nine months and then have at least six nannies watching the baby if she got pregnant at seventeen. Her baby would be raised as a sibling, and she’d live as though nothing happened.

Too bad Tiff doesn’t have that luxury.

Chapter Two

Honey

I push my sunglasses up my nose in a vain attempt to hide the makeup melting off my face. I knew I’d regret caking it on this morning but did it anyway because I refused to let anyone see the red swelling under my eyes.

When the glasses finally drop off, I catch them in my hands and stare at my haggard, tired complexion. My lip quivers, and my eyes prickle with tears I can’t help but shed. It started with a lone tear trickling down my cheek, taking the smallest remnant of mascara with it. Now they’re in free flow, and I’m at the point where my snot is threatening to make an appearance. Mascara replaces my blusher, and no matter how much I wipe my cheeks, I can’t get rid of the heavy black stains smeared across them.

Wiping my face one last time, I lay my head on the seat and close my eyes.

This is nothing. It’s just a moment, and none of this will matter in ten years. I won’t even remember Jamie’s name.

I repeat the same mantra I’ve been saying to myself for the last few days, hoping it will stop the ache of my heart.

It doesn’t matter that Jamie was the only guy in the world who actually got me or that we’d been stuck in the same business meetings since we were five. He is a guy who doesn’t care about me. Everything was for show. Even all those times he held my hand under the table when I was so afraid I would faint because my mother had me in a dress two sizes too small. He was there.

Now he’s not.

“The guy is an ass, Honey.” Olivia sighs next to me, patting my knee as though that will magically make this all better. Easy for her to say when she’s got a fantastic boyfriend in Mike and her whole family loves and adores her unconditionally. What’s my mom going to say when she finds out? Dad will blame me for the breakup, of course. It’s always my fault when things don’t go as planned, and this will be one of those times.

Sniffling, I adjust my sunglasses, looking down at my phone and the video I’ve had on loop since it was sent to me on Saturday. My gut churns at the number of views at the bottom. Over a million people have seen this now, half a million have liked it, and we’re only in a town of a few thousand.

So many people I don’t even know have watched my humiliation, and so many of them are happy about it.

I let my thumb flick across the screen, passing through all the hurtful comments.

Bitch got what she deserved.

Jamie upgraded.

Honey 2.0

McKenna is so much hotter.

The Queen has fallen.

I wish I could see Honey’s face right now.

Did that bitch bother showing up to school today?

“Yeahhh”—Olivia snatches the phone from me—“I think it’s time you stopped watching that. You’ve had it on repeat since nine this morning.”

I smooth down my red and blue pleated skirt. Just because I feel like a wreck doesn’t mean I should let the rest of the world see it. “Kind of hard to ignore when people keep sending it to me,” I mutter. I wish it didn’t feel like Miley Cyrus had come tumbling into my stupid pink car, swinging her damn wrecking ball straight through my heart.

Because that’s what the people want to see, right? The “queen” crying over a guy who picked a girl who’s ten times hotter than her. I never actually viewed myself as the Queen. I didn’t even think I was that popular, more like I was riding on Jamie’s coat tails. I didn’t, however, realize just how despised I was.

My mother was right.

She’s always right about me.

I’m worthless without Jamie by my side.

Closing my eyes, I exhale deeply. Jamie’s face connected to McKenna’s plays in my mind like torture porn. The way he grabbed her with such fierce possessiveness flashes before me, and if you look close enough, you can see the faintest of smiles on his lips as he held her close. My heart aches because he looked like he wanted to be there and had no remorse over his actions.

That’s what cut the most. Not seeing my apparent technical fiancé kissing another girl—sure, that sucked ass—but seeing him so happy about it was worse. He is so in love. He never touched me like that, let alone smiled like he was drunk because of it. My upper lip curls thinking about how he threw her inthat room, and ungodly images of him having sex with her race through my mind.

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