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“No thanks to you,” Gemma mumbles. “You’re a damn exhibitionist. I guess it makes sense. Quarterback. Popular. You love the attention and want people to know how good you have it.”
A chuckle rolls through me.
“What we’ve done isn’t even close. When I have you, sweetheart, no one gets to see but me.”
I hear it when Gemma swallows at my words. She has no snarky comeback for me.
For a while Gemma talks quietly with Davis, only interacting with me and sometimes Devlin. I think she’s trying to play it like I don’t have her seated on my lap, acting as if things are normal. She ignores Carter and everyone else at our table.
Carter and I get lost in strategy talk.
I steal one of the potato wedges from Gemma’s plate. Gemma growls under her breath and clamps her hand around my wrist. Actually growls.
It’s fucking adorable.
“What, you don’t like to share?”
I offer her the rest of the wedge and after spending a long second weighing her options, she parts her lips and lets me feed her while she glares at me. It pulls heat into my gut.
“You’re infuriating.”
“There’s my girl.”
“Don’t you know better than to steal fries from chicks?” Devlin quips as he spins his fork half-heartedly in a plate of pasta. “Her fries belong to her. And your fries belong to her, too.”
“My sister’s a psycho for fries,” Carter agrees.
Devlin props his elbows on the table and pins Davis with a look that promises trouble. He pinches Davis’ tray, dragging it across the table out of reach.
“Is this all you can afford, sticky fingers? No fries for you. Just the free lunch program for poor people.”
The only indication that Davis hears Devlin are the tight lines around her mouth. Gemma goes stiff in my lap, though. I stroke her thigh beneath the table to soothe her and keep her attention on me.
Devlin picks up a limp piece of broccoli from Davis’ tray and scoffs at it before popping it in his mouth.
“It tastes like sadness and food stamps.”
Carter cracks up, smacking Devlin’s shoulder as he chews and stares Davis down. Gemma scrambles from my lap, elbowing me with a sharp blow to the stomach when I try to keep her where she is. Davis scoots down to give her room to wedge between us.
Gemma’s about to fight back. Davis might take it lying down because she knows how our group gets, but Gemma isn’t one to stand for it.
Devlin picks up random things from Davis’ plate and drops them on the floor. Davis balls her hands in her lap.
I level him with a look, but don’t intervene.
“Hey, Devlin. Can you fucking not?” Gemma snaps, poised to fight.
Devlin doesn’t acknowledge Gemma and tips the whole tray off the table. The clatter echoes above the cacophony of chatter in the cafeteria.
“You’re used to eating from the garbage, so what’s the difference eating off the floor? You shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong.”
Davis shoots a ha
rd-eyed stare across the table as he ruins her lunch. He smirks and returns to eating his pasta.
“Not all of us are born with that silver spoon in our mouths and a no limit credit card,” Davis snipes.
Devlin’s brows shoot up before he quickly covers, pulling his mask back in place.
