Well, until she caught on, and I got a backhand good enough to split my lip. After that, Jordan wouldn’t risk it.
He’d always done his best to protect me, and I’d failed him.
“He’s being a perv. Don't waste your time.”
“What?” I ask, turning toward Gavin only to find his nose still in a book he’d picked up, and for a moment, I worry I’d hallucinated him talking.
That is, until his brows scrunch up and his lips pinch. I’d seen this look a lot when we were younger; somehow, I’d managed to frustrate him by simply sitting here.
I think that’s a new record for me.
He slams the book closed and turns to look at me as if I’ve done something to offend him.
It’s weird, but my mood almost feels like it’s improving as he huffs and puffs.
“Julez is a pervert. He’s trying to trick you into putting your uniform on so he can see you in it. If you gave them the right sizes, then they got it right. I’ve never seen them get it wrong before.” He explains like I’m five, and I have to try really hard to keep the smile off my face.
Something tells me he wouldn’t like that very much.
What he’s saying fits, though. Julez is a flirt. I’ve seen it all day, and not just with me.
It’s almost like he can’t help it or doesn’t know he’s doing it.
When I glance his way, his eyes flick up almost as if sensing mine, and the smile that curls his lips is all mirth.
I turn away from him and Gavin, going back to my things to sort out and ensure I’m prepared for tomorrow.
“Dinner’s ready, Pookie,” Julez calls, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find the rest of them at the table already, watching me.
Well, this is embarrassing.
I do my best to swallow that feeling and come off as confident as Julez does, but I have no idea if it works.
Oh well, there’s a saying for that. Fake it ‘til ya make it, and I intend to make it.
I move from the couch and into the kitchen, and I’m hit with a wonderful aroma that I wouldn’t have thought possible from someone like Julez.
I guess I judged him wrong, perhaps Titus as well.
Though good cooking doesn’t win him any points, and his little language tactic is subpar, literally child's play.
The only seat is between Julez and Nolan, and while Julez smiles at me, the rest of the table is far from happy. Not that I blame them, I guess.
A knock sounds at the door a second later, and I’m almost convinced I’m going to be saved from this, which I’m sure will be a disaster of a dinner.
Instead, the door swings open, and a guy I’ve never seen before waltzes in.
“Conner.” Gavin holds up a plate, andConnercomes over to grab it, a greedy smile on his lips that he licks the second he has the plate in hand.
“Pleasure, boys,” he says, turning and heading right back out without so much as another glance.
What the hell just happened?
My confusion must be obvious because Julez turns to me the second the door closes.
“There are seven wings in the dorms, and we compete. Each day, a different dorm prepares a dish, with one dish coming from each wing. Today was our day.”
It sounds simple enough, but I don’t really get it.
