Mr. Popular: A Falling For My Brother's Best Friend Romance Read online

  MR. POPULAR

  NICOLE LONDON

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicole London.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Cover design by Najla Qambers of Najla Qambers Designs

  Editing by Evelyn Guy of Indie Edit Guy

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  MR. Popular Draft

  PROLOGUE

  1

  2

  FIRST SUMMER CAMP

  3

  4

  5

  6

  SECOND SUMMER CAMP

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  THIRD SUMMER PART 1

  THIRD SUMMER CAMP (PART 2)

  12

  13

  14

  FOURTH SUMMER CAMP

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  24

  FIFTH SUMMER CAMP (PART 1)

  25

  26

  FIFTH SUMMER CAMP PART 2 | MARIAH

  27

  28

  29

  30

  32

  33

  34

  ** The End **

  Acknowledgments

  To stay up to date on future releases, sign up for my MAILING LIST!

  If you enjoyed reading Mr. Popular, please leave a review :-)

  Resentment | Nicole London

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  To Whitney, caffeine and good music,

  my companions through many long, tireless nights of writing.

  PROLOGUE

  Mariah

  If I’m ever granted my wish of personally kicking one person off this planet, that person will definitely be Liam Carter. (Also known as Mr. Asshole Mr. Popular) Star of the basketball team, top cheater on the national Spanish exam (there's no way he scored higher than me), and man of my nightmares, Liam walks through our school's hallways as if he owns them.

  It's bad enough that he's "best friends" with my older brother, but he's also, unfortunately, every silly girl at Blue Harbor High’s wet dream. He smiles and winks at every girl who glances his way — constantly playing up his good looks, as if any of them will ever stand a chance in taking him away from his girlfriend, Miss Popular, a.k.a. Ashley Jordan. (I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried, I swear.)

  The two of them together are like a bright and colorful Ralph Lauren ad on sugar, and in moments like right now, I wish I could kick them both off the face of the earth ...

  They’re currently standing in front of my locker, laughing at something that probably isn’t funny. He’s running his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair and she’s massaging his broad shoulders.

  “Excuse me?” I clear my throat to get their attention.

  They don’t make a move. They continue standing there in their own little bubble, laughing even louder.

  “Excuse me, please?” I clear my throat again.

  Nothing.

  Okay, fine. “Could you two idiots please step the hell away from my locker? Like, now?”

  They immediately turn to look at me. Before Liam can say anything, Ashley crosses her arms and pops her gum.

  “What did you just say, Maria?”

  “It’s Mariah.” I roll my eyes. “And I said I need you two to get away from my locker.”

  “Well, ask us nicely and maybe we’ll consider.”

  “No need for that, Ashley.” Liam gently grabs her arm and pulls her to the side. Then he looks at me. “Better?”

  “Much.” I open my locker, hoping the two of them will move farther down, but Ashley acts as if my intrusion never happened.

  “Can you finally say that you like me back, Liam?” she asks softly. “We’ve been together since the summer, gone on all types of dates, and you have yet to say those words to me.”

  “Ashley ...” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I have said them to you. More than once.”

  “Then say them again ...” She lowers her voice, and I immediately regret not accepting a locker on the sophomore hall. A locker far away from the front row seat to senior student drama.

  “I really like you, Ashley,” Liam says the words in a tone that is the most unconvincing tone I’ve ever heard. “A lot.”

  “Finally!” She laughs. “So, can I wear your letterman jacket at the pep rally this week? I feel like people need to know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

  “We can talk about that later ...”

  “We can talk about it right now. Yes or no to me wearing your letterman jacket, Liam?”

  I grab my books and slam my locker door shut, immediately walking down the hallway, so I can miss the rest of their conversation. I make my way to first period, Advanced Literature, and take a seat in the back row. I take out all the reports I’ve completed over the summer, the extra printed analyses I completed for fun, and as I’m double checking to make sure my eighteenth century poems are in order, Liam walks into the class and takes the seat next to me.

  “Did you finish all the Victorian novels on the list?” he asks.

  I don’t answer.

  He isn’t supposed to be in this class. It’s only for the people who attended the advanced summer session, and he was nowhere to be found during those eight weeks.

  “Mariah?” he calls my name, waiting for a response.

  I don’t give him one.

  “Mariah ...” He grabs my wrist, as I’m organizing my pencils. “Mariah, I know you can hear me talking to you.”

  “No, I can’t.” I jerk my hand away and face him. “Senior English is in room 212. This is Advanced Lit.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Are you?” I cross my arms. “Because I don’t remember seeing you in any of the study sessions this summer. I did see you all around the harbor with Ashley Jordan, though. At the movies, at the —

  “So, you were stalking me?” His lips curve up into a smirk. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Clearly.” He lowers his voice. “But for the record, the teacher made an exception for me because of my basketball schedule. I did just as much work — probably more than you this summer.”

  Then he smiles and the girl sitting across from him practically swoons as she stares. “And if I were you, I would try to be a lot nicer to me this year — especially since it’s my last year. Not only that, but with Zach going on recruiting trips every other weekend, I’m sure you’ll need me to drive you places when he’s not in town.”

  “No, I’m sure I’ll catch the bus.”

  “It doesn’t run on the weekends.”

  “Then I’ll pay for a cab.” I glare at him and feel my phone buzzing against my pocket. “And I will tolerate you this year. Nothing more, nothing less, and I can guarantee that I will never ask you for anything.”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, grateful to have a distraction from his too-gorgeous-to-be-true blue eyes. It’s a text message from my brother. />
  Zach: Hey, Ryah. I asked Liam to take you home after-school all this week since I’ve got some scouting meetings. He said it was cool, so be nice to him, please. Thanks.

  My blood begins to boil as I feel Liam looking over my shoulder, as I see him smiling as he reads the text message, too.

  “Like I was saying—” Liam leans back in his seat. “I think you need to be a lot nicer to me this year. I think you owe that to me, correct?”

  I don’t get a chance to respond to that. Our teacher walks into the room and approaches the board.

  “Good morning, everyone!” He slams his coffee onto the desk. “Welcome to Advanced Literature, and thank you for being brave enough to return after I put you through all of those summer sessions. Since this is an advanced, college-level course, you’ll need a study partner, and you’ll need to work together at least three to four times a week.”

  “Now ...” He ignores our chorus of groans and taps a pen against the lectern. “I’m not silly enough to let any of you choose your partners on your own, so everyone in row A, look to your right. Your partner for the year is sitting in row B. Everyone in row C, look to your right and meet your partner for the year in row D.”

  I look to my right, at Liam, and resist the urge to knock that smirk off his lips. I consider asking the teacher if I can please be paired with someone I’m not tempted to kill, but Liam leans close to me and whispers, “I’m looking forward to being friends again ...”

  “We will never be friends again.”

  “Then that’s too bad ...” He looks down at my shirt and back up at me. “Because if we were friends again, I’d tell you that I’m pretty sure you forgot to put on a bra this morning.” He looks down at my shirt once more. “Not that I mind, though. You can definitely show up to every study session with me dressed just like this, if you like.”

  I look down and feel my cheeks burning bright red. This school year is going to be way harder than I thought it was going to be ...

  1

  Mariah

  A few days later...

  “Ryah, hurry up!” My brother Zach calls me from downstairs. “What the hell are you still doing up there?”

  “I’m looking for my apron!” I ruffle through my drawers for effect, hoping it’ll throw off the fact that I literally just woke up ten seconds ago.

  “You woke up late again, didn’t you?”

  “Nope! Not at all!” I rush to the bathroom, pulling on a pair of jeans and reach for my toothbrush. “Be down in five minutes!”

  I splash water onto my face and stare at my reflection in utter disbelief. My skin is pale, my hair is frizzed beyond repair, and there are large bags under both my eyes.

  I can literally pass for a zombie right now ...

  I tie on my bright pink Dawson’s apron and rush downstairs, finding myself face to face with a brooding Zach. His eyes are narrowed and he’s looking at me like I’m a four-year-old in trouble.

  “Ryah,” he says in a voice that reminds me of the way our Dad used to scold me. “If you’re going to ask me to take you somewhere at a certain time — a certain early-ass time, don’t you think you should be ready at whatever certain time you begged for?”

  “Asking for a ride to mom’s bakery isn’t really that big of a deal ...”

  “It is, if I say it is.”

  I give him a blank stare. It’s six in the morning and my usual snarkiness isn’t ready to go this early.

  “If this happens again,” he says, “you’ll have to ask your friend Kelsey to wake up this early and take you.”

  “What? Kelsey doesn’t even have a car.”

  “Exactly.” He gives me that “Try me” look that our dad used to give, and for a moment, I have to remember that he’s only two years older than me. It just has always felt like ten.

  He walks over to the kitchen counter and hands me a waffle and a bottle of orange juice. “I made you breakfast. Let’s go.”

  I take the food from him and follow him outside to his car. Like the overly protective big brother he is, he asks me about my plans for the week as he drives, as if part of his life is to keep up with my every move.

  “Knowledge Bowl practice at five on Thursday, right?” he asks as we approach a red light.

  “Yes, and on Friday.”

  “Okay. I should be able to pick you up after. If not, I’ll just ask Liam to do it.”

  I bite down on my waffle hard to prevent myself from saying anything sarcastic. I’ll save my thoughts on his dumping me on Liam for later.

  “Anywhere you need me to take you this weekend?” He looks over at me.

  “Just the mall. You’ll need to pick up Kelsey, too.”

  “Sounds good.” He shrugs, his typical “okay” response, and for the rest of the drive, we ride with slow rock music playing on the radio, with the breathtaking scenery of a morning in Blue Harbor coming alive outside our windows.

  We used to joke about basically living in a place that is the perfect postcard — bright blue lakes that stretch for miles, lush evergreen trees that line all the main roads, and brightly coated buildings that appear to be more like cottages than businesses, but we’ve adjusted to it now.

  The only thing we haven’t adjusted to is life without our father. And although I doubt we ever will, we try to make the most of it by helping our mom out as much as we can at the town’s number one bakery. At the one thing that keeps my mom going every day.

  “Remember,” Zach says as he pulls into the bakery’s parking lot, “Next time, be ready on time, or —”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” I get out and shut his car door before he can finish, and he flips up his middle finger with a smile before driving away.

  I let myself into the shop and my mom immediately appears behind the glass counter.

  “You can start riding with me if you want on the days you’re assigned to work, Mariah.” She smiles. “We do live in the same house, last time I checked.”

  “Except you wake up at three in the morning so you can get here at three thirty.” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Fair enough.” She tosses a bag of flour toward me and I barely catch it. “I need three batches of buttercream cupcake batter, three batches of peanut butter brownie batter, and three batches of lemon cream-sicle batter within the next couple hours.”

  Before I can insist on making four batches, since those are the most popular weekend flavors, the bell above the door sounds and I turn around.

  Kelsey?

  “Thank you so much for allowing me to work with you this morning, Mrs. Dawson,” she says, smiling as she flips her black hair over her shoulder. “I truly, truly appreciate it.”

  “No, thank you for coming to help on such short notice, Kelsey.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Dawson.”

  My pleasure? I give Kelsey a ‘Who the hell are you right now?’ look.

  “Up early and ready to work with a positive attitude?” My mother looks between the two of us. “I definitely think Mariah can learn a thing or two from you. Fast.” She winks at me and motions for us to get to work.

  Kelsey follows me to the prep room in the back and I double-check the hallway — making sure my mom is out of earshot.

  “Okay, you’ve got five minutes to tell me what you’ve done with my best friend and get the hell out of her body. Right now.”

  She laughs. “Okay, okay, okay. The football team is moving their morning workouts from the stadium to one of the trails today.”

  “No, really.” I sigh, confused as to what the football team has to do with her ‘girl next door’ behavior. “Please step out of my best friend’s body.”

  “The trail is right across the street from the bakery, Mariah! You and I will have front row seats to the six-pack sexiness that is Ryan Winston.” She puts her hand over her heart. “Only the sight of him sweating would get me out of bed and on the town bus to work on a Saturday.”

  “Now you sound like yourself.” I toss her a mixing bowl. “I’
ll head over with you for a little while after we’re done. Nine batches shouldn’t take more than a few hours or so.”

  She gives me a thumbs up and retreats to the opposite side of the counter for measuring, while I prepare my side for mixing. Even though Kelsey would deny it in a heartbeat, she loves coming to Dawson’s and helping me during my shifts. She always says, “The quicker you’re done, the quicker we can go out! Plus, I get paid. Duh!” That, and since Kelsey is an only child and a bit of a rebel, she’s always been kind of like a twin sister to me.

  In fact, we like and love almost all of the same things and our hatred for popular kids, petty rumors, and asshole athletes is pretty much on the same wavelength. (Actually, she likes the asshole athletes a tad bit more than me.)

  It takes a little over three hours for us to finish, and when we’re done, we make a few more batches of the popular flavors before my mom can ask.

  When ten o’clock rolls around, Kelsey takes off her apron and stretches her arms.

  “It’s break time! Let’s go take a walk and get a look at the football team.”

  I shake my head and untie my apron, heading up to the front of the store. There’s a line of customers, as usual, and my mom’s full-time staff is working as fast as they can.

  “We prepped fifteen batches for you guys,” I say to the lead cashier. “We’ll be back in thirty to do more.”

  She nods and gives her attention to the next customer in line.

  Kelsey and I slip out into the warm weather and walk across the street to the grey pebbled trail that connects Blue Harbor to Green Cove. We take a seat on one of the bright red park benches as the football team begins a round of pushups.

  “What exactly do you see in Ryan Winston?” I ask. “I mean, sure he’s cute, but he’s a douchebag.”

  “You think every popular guy is a douchebag.” She rolls her eyes. “What’s not to like, though? Dark hair, dreamy green eyes, amazing abs, and he actually knows how to carry a conversation with a girl.”

  “The only thing I’ve ever heard him say to a girl is, ‘Hey, I’m Ryan Winston. I think you’re hot. Go out with me’.”

  “Downright swoon-worthy.” Kelsey smiles, practically salivating as she stares at him. “Speaking of popular douchebags, though....” She leans back and points to a car that’s making its way down the other side of the trail. A car I know all too well.