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“Oh, you do.” She smiles, her green hair falling over her shoulder.
“Yeah.” I reach over, brushing the strand of hair away. “This really hot girl with freckles lives with me, and we have the most incredible sex, and spend pretty much every moment together so it’s basically like having a girlfriend.”
“Mhmm,” she hums. “Only I’m not.”
I lean into her, skimming my lips over her jaw. “You’re something.”
“But I’m not your girlfriend,” she repeats. “So, you won’t mind that I invited Joel to Xander’s game?” I nearly come out of my seat and she smiles with triumph.
“That asswipe isn’t coming,” I mumble, reaching for my water glass. My throat suddenly feels very dry.
She smiles back. “I was talking to him the other day in class about my plans and it came up and he mentioned he loved football, so yes, I invited him.”
“Why were you talking to him?” My fists clench against the table. Jealousy rears its ugly head inside me.
She laughs. “Because we have classes together and we’re kind of friends now.”
“Friends?” I repeat. “Since when?”
“Since Titanic.”
“Ah,” I breathe. “Wall night. That was a great night.” I repeat those events over in my mind.
She shakes her head. “Anyway, Joel is coming to the game and you will be nice to him. After all, you’re not my boyfriend but he is my friend.” I bristle. She takes a sip of her water and sets the glass back down. “He’s a good guy.”
“He wants to fuck you,” I mumble.
She snorts. “So do you.”
“I do fuck you. There’s a difference.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Well, I don’t want to fuck him.”
“That makes me feel better.” I eye my half-eaten sandwich.
“You don’t sound like you feel better,” she comments. I look up from my food and find her watching me with a coy smile.
“That’s because he still wants to fuck you.”
She laughs. “We could talk in circles about this all afternoon.”
“You really don’t like him?” I ask. I know I sound pathetic asking it, but I can’t help it. I know that she spends a lot of time with him in class.
“Only as a friend.”
I groan. “I’d prefer that answer to be, ‘No, Jace. I hate his guts’.”
She laughs. “You’re insane. And I did hate him in the beginning but he’s really not that bad, but only as a friend.”
“I want to punch him,” I grumble.
“Jace,” she scolds.
“What?” I ask innocently. “I said I want to punch him, not that I will. I should be commended for not punching him the night I walked in on you two.”
She laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You make it sound like you found us going at it like a couple of teenagers in our parents’ bed.”
“Might as well have.” I cross my arms over my chest. My appetite long ago disappeared.
