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I grin thinking about it, a grin that widens when Katie Kline slides up with a heavy coat of lip gloss and a long, slow blink.
The table goes back to their own conversations while I focus on Katie.
“You ran out on me pretty fast the other night,” she says with a small smirk.
I ditched her, and she still came back. I’ll reward her for that, even if this little stopover is as purposeful as the leak of every single celebrity sex tape.
It’s cool though, I’ll play her little game of show and tell, her objective: let me show you who I played with, now go tell all your friends.
I kick my leg out.
Never willing to pass on an invitation, she lowers her ass onto my left thigh.
“Come on now, Katie K.” I tilt my head slightly. “Don’t front like you expected me to stay.”
She brings her upper body closer to mine. “Doesn’t hurt to hope you might.”
“It should.” I grin, squeezing her thigh. “It should sting real good.”
Katie laughs, swaying her knee back and forth. I glance to Raven to see if she’s noticed the clear shot up her skirt, but her focus lies on the far side of the cafeteria.
I know that face and skim the room. I don’t find anything that would give the girl a reason to harden though. “RaeRae.”
My slow and tight call of her name has Maddoc’s head snapping toward her with concern.
Her eyes dart to his first, quickly moving to mine only to swing right back where they were. “New flavor, you say?”
Only when a group of freshmen with trays in their hands start walking again, do I spot what she has—short silver hair parked right in front of a dead pitcher walking.
Enoch fucking Cameron blocks her from me. The only glimpse I get is a half shot of sleek-ass shine teasing at the edge of an exposed shoulder that wasn’t exposed earlier.
Enoch slides behind her then, and at the slight angle I have, it looks as if he’s gripping on to her arm. He’s definitely saying something.
Talking to her.
Right near her fucking ear, like I was only hours ago when I realized she smells like sunshine and wicked red wine.
The sweet with a bite that follows.
I put my hands on Katie’s outer thighs, ready to move her ass and stand, but then Mac is there.
He slaps a hard hand down on the back of Enoch’s neck in a good old friendly gesture that says ‘get back motherfucker’ and uses the move to turn his body sideways. Away from Brielle. The potential—and very likely—fuckup, and Mac now facing each other.
Mac smiles spewing something and Enoch grins back, lifting his fist to give him props.
There you go, my man. Play him right, get him where we need him tonight.
Mac slowly eases between the two, and then dismisses Enoch altogether, turning toward Brielle.
She’s got her shades on now, but smiles up at him with ease.
He says something, and she laughs, her hands slipping into her hair.
“And here comes Chloe,” Victoria singsongs.
At the mention of her friend, Katie pulls her face from her phone, seeking out the former queen bee and Mac’s honey.
Chloe struts up like a runway ruler, confident and flawless as always, and a fucking giant compared to Brielle. She’s got a foot on her easy, and that’s not including the six inches added by her Valentinos either.
Raven and Victoria laugh when Chloe plants her ass at her man’s side, her opening move being her slipping a shoulder in front of Mac, her little show of territory over her man.
Brielle doesn’t cower away, grow nervous, or get mad.
The girl smiles at her.
I cut quick glances at Raven and Victoria, who both sit back with curious, questioning eyes.
Told them.
Off.
Brielle sticks her hand out, and just like that, Chloe grins bright. Like Victoria said, she puts off no threat. She’s kind.
“Have you met her yet?” Katie reminds us she’s still here, like her bony ass isn’t stabbing into my thigh muscle more and more by the second.
All eyes turn to her.
She squirms, unable to handle all of our attention at once. She attempts to cover the nervousness in her tone but fails. “She’s the newest girl from the group home, right?”
“Those are the only new students we take.”
She knows this. Everyone does.
There are only two scenarios for students who go to Brayshaw High—the legacy kids, the ones whose mother or father or some other family member went here and held up the town with pride, and the ones we allow in on a trial basis. Those are the neglected or abused or downright fucked teenage boys and girls who never had a chance but deserve one.
Like the chance Brielle was supposed to get after she was freed from her fucked-up family but never got.
A nasty sense of guilt seeps in, pulling at my ribs and forcing me to stretch my torso.
