I Hate the Prom King: I Hate Prom, #1

By J. Leigh James

Why is the future prom king suddenly so interested in a nobody?

Eli has something to prove. Months ago, a freak injury ended his football career. Now he has the opportunity to prove his busted knee didn't ruin his future. Becoming prom king will show he's still on top, and everything is going as planned until his ex-girlfriend throws him a curveball. His reputation is threatened, his future is at risk, and he needs a date to prom if he's going to win the crown.

Megan wants nothing to do with the popular crowd, especially not Eli. He humiliated her years ago, and nothing he's done since tells her he's changed from the arrogant guy she encountered. When he walks into the shop where she works, she never expects he's looking for more than a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Can Megan let go of her grudge to give Eli a chance? And if she does, will he choose to salvage his ego with a fake crown over a chance at real love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Leigh James
• Release date: Dec 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781735860985

J. Leigh James

J. Leigh James lives in Texas with her amazing husband, "bad apple" daughter, and neurotic cat. She began writing in middle school when a beloved story had an unsatisfying ending. After rewriting the ending to the story, she became addicted to creating love stories with happily-ever-after endings. She loves connecting with her readers, so check out her website and sign up for her newsletter.

Book preview

I Hate the Prom King

J. Leigh James

Copyright © 2023 by J. Leigh James

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

978-1-7358609-8-5 digital

978-1-7358609-9-2 print

Contents

Dedication

1.One

2.Two

3.Three

4.Four

5.Five

6.Six

7.Seven

8.Eight

9.Nine

10.Ten

11.Eleven

12.Twelve

Epilogue

About Author

Also By

A HUGE thank you to my beta readers! Brett, Jane, Kenny, Mya, Barbara and Soleil—your insight is invaluable, and I appreciate you!

Linda/Ma/Mom/Gramma—we miss you!

One

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Eli

H ave you rented our limo yet? Desiree pulled out her digital planner and pointed to the first item on her list. Without waiting for me to answer, she said, You need to hurry. The stretch SUVs go quickly.

We have two months before prom. There’s plenty of time.

She ignored my statement. Have you thought about what you’re going to do for your prom-posal? It needs to be something extraordinary. No paying for the school’s marching band to serenade me. Mike Ceburne did that last year, and it was so lame.

And you turned him down in front of the whole school, I pointed out.

Of course, she said without looking up from her list. If you’re going to ask out prom royalty, you need to show an elevated sense of taste and class.

You weren’t even up for prom queen.

Desiree’s brown eyes met mine with the arrogant look she used to put people in their place. That look stopped working on me a month ago when I realized I’d fallen out of love with her. I was prom princess and future prom queen. Everyone knew that.

She navigated to her digital project planner, the app she completely lived her life by, and gave a sharp gasp. Have you not completed any of your tasks?

It took every ounce of control I had not to react to the statement. She’d granted me access to the app and had written a long list of things she thought I needed to do in order to have the perfect prom. I’d completely ignored it. I wasn’t a neanderthal. I knew how to plan. It was one of the reasons college scouts had been interested in me — my ability to create plays off the football field and execute them perfectly on the gridiron. My planning skills were legendary, and just because I couldn’t play ball anymore didn’t mean I’d lost the ability to plan.

Elijah, this is unacceptable.

Yes, Mom, I teased her. No one called me by my full name. I was Eli. Plain and simple.

I’m not kidding. If you’re going to be prom king, you have to complete this list. She held up the action items that filled her screen.

You can’t be serious, I told her and pointed to one of the most ridiculous ones. Be one with the people? What does that even mean?

Desiree scowled at me. It means be approachable, likeable. Make people think you like them so that they’ll vote for you.

People like me, I argued.

People are afraid of you, she said. You’re too perfect. Step off your pedestal and show them you’re one of them.

I laughed. What? That’s stupid. If I’m on a pedestal, which I’m not, I didn’t put myself there.

She flicked her long blond hair over her shoulder and said, Watch and learn.

Desiree flounced to a small group of girls, gave them her 1000 watt smile and sweetly said, Hey girls. Eli and I are up for Prom King and Queen. We’d love it if you could vote for us.

Sure thing, one of the girls beamed back, and Desiree gave a small squeal of excitement.

She skipped back to me with a satisfied expression after thanking the girls for their support. Easy peasy, she said. Then she pointed to another group of girls. Your turn.

No, I said without looking at the girls in question. If we’re voted Prom King and Queen, that’s cool. But I’m not asking people for their votes. Plus, going around asking people to vote for both of us doesn’t feel right.

She gave me an incredulous look. Of course, it’s right. We’ll be each other’s dates. We should win together.

But we’re not together anymore, I told her.

Desiree’s eyes narrowed. Don’t say that. Not here.

I shrugged. Why not? It’s true. We’d called it off last week. I was too busy working at my dad’s small hardware store, and when I wasn’t there, I was writing essays and completing scholarship applications. After I’d injured my knee, my football aspirations were over, and the college scouts disappeared. If I was going to college, I needed to find the money for it.

Desiree wanted to break it off for an entirely different reason. A college guy she’d met while touring her dream college. The school she’d easily been accepted to, and the school no longer interested in me. I was fine with the break-up. Desiree and I had become more like a habit than a relationship. Friday night hang-outs with our friends, an occasional Saturday night movie, and prom planning. Which, according to my ex-girlfriend, meant we had to keep our break-up a secret. Otherwise, one of us wouldn’t get voted into the prom court.

In true Desiree style, she didn’t hear me when I said I’d never cared about prom. It would be great hanging out with our friends, dancing all night, even getting dressed up wasn’t so bad. But it was just another dance, and I couldn’t care less about being prom royalty.

Elijah, she lowered her head and glanced up at me through her eyelashes. Another move that used to work on me. She softened her voice and said, This is the end of our senior year. It’s a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life. It has to be perfect, don’t you agree?

Even though I wasn’t in love with her anymore, we were still friends, and I did want her to have the night of her dreams. I groaned as I looked at the list again. Fine, I gave in. I’ll do some of these things. But don’t expect me to campaign to be prom king. It’s not cool.

She dropped the sweet act like throwing down her cheerleading megaphone. I’m doing this for you. Ever since you blew out your knee, you’re not as popular as you used to be. You owned this school, and now look at you. She shrugged, as if that motion completed her sentiment.

Desiree didn’t have to say the words. I knew what she was thinking, what had been constantly in my head. At seventeen years old, I was a washed-up has-been. My ex was not-so-subtly telling me that everyone knew it.

I didn’t want to be prom king. The title meant nothing to me. But if my classmates gave me that title, it meant they still believed in me. That my life hadn’t ended the night I was sacked and completely jacked up my left leg. Prom king meant nothing to me. Popularity meant nothing to me. But it’d be nice to have my peers’ vote of confidence that I had more to achieve.

I’ll get prom king, I told her. But I’ll do it without begging for it.

A slow smirk stretched across her lips. There’s my king, she said. Now work on that list.

She had won this round. I’d put a little more effort into it.

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Megan

P romise me we won’t be like that next year, I said to my best friend, Ruby Slater.

I nodded