The Theory of the Boy Next Door: Brazos High, #3

By Amy Sparling

There's a tradition in Zara's family—every woman for the past three generations have been crowned homecoming queen at Brazos High School. Her two older sisters had the honor in their senior years, and now it's Zara's turn. The competition is tough, but Zara has spent her entire high school years winning the hearts of her classmates. Now all she needs is a crown and her dream will be fulfilled.

Zane is notorious in this part of Texas. He's a star varsity football player bound for the big leagues. When his family moves to Brazos City in his senior year, his once rival school welcomes him with open arms. His football prowess will take the team to state. When Zane's ex-girlfriend discovers he'll be attending her school, she decides she wants him back. And what better way to win him back than to be crowned Homecoming Queen?

The Brazos High Romance Series is a collection of flirty, sweet young adult novellas that each feature a different couple. They can be read in any order. Download your copy now and dive into the heartwarming romance!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Sparling
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223244752

Amy Sparling

Amy Sparling is the bestselling author of books for teens and the teens at heart. She lives on the coast of Texas with her family, her spoiled rotten pets, and a huge pile of books. She graduated with a degree in English and has worked at a bookstore, coffee shop, and a fashion boutique. Her fashion skills aren't the best, but luckily she turned her love of coffee and books into a writing career that means she can work in her pajamas. Her favorite things are coffee, book boyfriends, and Netflix binges.  She's always loved reading books from R. L. Stine's Fear Street series, to The Baby Sitter's Club series by Ann, Martin, and of course, Twilight. She started writing her own books in 2010 and now publishes several books a year. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

ZARA

Your king just moved in next door.

My mind barely registers that my sister Jackie is talking to me, and it certainly doesn’t comprehend the words she just said. I am entirely too busy trying to evenly space out the words on my tri-fold presentation board to pay attention to my older sister. I know it’s just marketing class, and everyone considers it an easy elective, but I still like to make my work shine. Presentation poster boards are one of my favorite class assignments.

"Hello!" Jackie says, stepping in front of my face and waving her hands in front of my eyes. Did you hear me?

I thought I’d miss her when she went off to college two years ago, but since her university is only an hour and a half away, she comes home all the time. Almost too often, if you ask me.

What is it? I say, flashing her an annoyed look as I drop the printed words onto the foam board. Can’t you see I’m busy?

This is way more important than that. Jackie walks over to my bedroom window and points. But I live on the second floor of the house, and I don’t need to get up from my bed to see that the only view out there is the roof of the neighbor’s house.

So? I say.

Your king just moved in next door!

She says this weird sentence as if I’m supposed to understand whatever the heck she means. King? I say, lifting an eyebrow. Maybe I heard her wrong. But I didn’t—she said the word king as clear as you can say the word king.

Then it hits me. The only time my family says words like king or queen or royalty is when they’re discussing one very important subject in my household—and I don’t mean England.

I mean homecoming at Brazos High School.

I’m pretty sure American high schools all have some sort of homecoming football event, which is a tradition where one game per season is dedicated to welcoming back the schools’ alumni, but here in Texas we do it differently. We make a big ol’ spectacle out of it. The homecoming dance is on a Friday, but the entire week is filled with pep rallies, parties, and special theme days at school. Any senior is eligible to become king or queen and many people start campaigning for the position right when school starts. During homecoming week, we all vote for the winners. The homecoming king and queen are crowned at the dance, and then honored during the halftime show at the homecoming football game on Saturday.

To most people, homecoming isn’t that big of a deal. It’s just an excuse to get dressed up for the dance and then party at a football game. But to my family, homecoming is a huge deal. My mom’s entire business is based on homecoming, which makes the fall football season her busiest time of year. There’s also this teensy little fact that my sister was crowned homecoming queen her senior year.

And my mom was also homecoming queen her senior year.

And so was my grandma.

And my aunt.

It’s kind of a thing in this family. Every girl in my family gets crowned homecoming queen. Which means I’m next, whether I want the honor or not.

I stand up and walk over to the window. As expected, I can only see a roof. The neighbor’s house is one story, so there’s no second floor with windows you can peek into or anything. When I look out my bedroom window, all I see is just a roof, a chimney, and some pine needles in the gutters.

What are you pointing at? I ask my sister.

She plops down on my bed, sending my carefully printed out words sliding all over my foam board. Ugh. Her dark eyes widen and her heart-shaped face bursts into a smile. You’re never going to believe who just moved in next door.

My king? I say, rolling my eyes. There are, like, five guys right now who could all be king. We won’t know the winner until the dance, and that’s still a few weeks away.

Jackie shakes her head, her lips pressed together in this annoyingly know-it-all kind of way. None of those guys will be crowned king.

I put my hands on my hips. And you know this how?

She smirks. Because Zane Warren just moved in next door.

I quirk an eyebrow. The name is familiar, but I’m not sure how. Zane Warren... I mumble, glancing back out my window which is pointless because there’s nothing to see there. It’s not like this guy will be sitting on his roof waving at me. I turn to my sister. Who is that?

Zane-freaking-Warren! Jackie says.

Saying his name again won’t suddenly make me know who he is.

Jackie heaves a sigh, then reaches for her phone from her back pocket. You should seriously know these things, she says, scrolling through her phone. Then she turns it to face me and I see a news article featuring a guy in a red football uniform. He’s only the youngest Varsity player in the state! He’s famous in the football world. He’s being scouted from a dozen colleges….

My eyes widen as I look at her phone. Zane Warren. Yes, I do know the name. He was all over the news my freshman year because he was picked for his school’s Varsity team when he was only fifteen. Now he’s a senior, just like me. And sure, your average person wouldn’t know a thing about high school football players who are set to turn pro one day, but my family knows. My mom runs the largest mum store in the state and my dad is a junior high football coach. His dream is to coach high school but Brazos High’s current coaches aren’t going anywhere any time soon.

"Zane Warren just moved here? I say, still dumbfounded by the news. Why would he switch high schools during senior year?"

She shrugs. I only heard part of the conversation before I ran up here to tell you.

Conversation?

Dad and I saw the new neighbors moving in so we walked over to say hi. The second Zane’s dad introduced himself, our dad was like holy crap. They’re probably still out there talking. I barely said hi to Zane though because he was helping his mom move in furniture.

So it’s really him? I ask, giving her phone back.

Yep! She bounces up and down. Your status as queen just got even cooler. You’ll be forever memorialized as the homecoming queen to a future pro ball player!

She grins widely at me. You’re so lucky, Zara. I got paired with freaking Brian Lundy who tore his ACL freshman year at A&M and then never did anything worthwhile. She rolls her eyes. Ugh.

I can’t believe she’s in college and still cares about this crap. My whole family may be obsessed with football, but I’m just stuck with it. I don’t really care about the sport or the title of queen. This is just some silly tradition I was born into and expected to continue for my family’s legacy.

My phone alarm goes off, reminding me that it’s time to go walk Mrs. Sally’s dog. Dog walking time, I say, tugging on my shoes and grabbing my sunglasses. Feel free to finish up my poster for me.

Jackie snorts because school assignments are so not her thing and follows me out of my bedroom. "I can’t believe my