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I almost turn back and run home. And maybe I would’ve if the door didn’t swing open.
Jackson, who most people consider a flirt, appears in the doorway, about to walk outside. But he slams to a stunned halt when he spots me. He blinks. And blinks again. Then a deliberate grin curls at his lips.
“Hey Benton,” he calls out, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Did you by chance happen to order a side of cheerleader with that pizza?”
“What are you talking about?” Benton shouts from somewhere in the apartment. “Or did you accidentally eat some of Jett’s brownies again.”
“Accidentally?” Someone chokes on a laugh. “Yeah, right. Is that what he tells everyone now?”
Jackson just smiles, his gaze fixed on me. He doesn’t say anything right away and it feels like he’s waiting for me to speak first. I’m unsure what to say, though, so I end up standing there like a dork and staring at him. He’s actually not that bad to stare at; blond hair, blue eyes, gorgeous. He’s also dressed trendy too, in a button-down shirt, a loosened tie, tan jeans, and stylish sneakers.
“So, did you come with the pizza?” he finally asks with a cock of his brow.
I can feel my skin turning lukewarm and confusion setting in. “No…”
He juts out his bottom lip. “Such a shame. I was really hungry.”
Okay, so I may be a good girl, but I think I know an innuendo when I hear one. But what I don’t get is why Jackson is using one on me. It’s not like we’ve ever really spoken at school and he seemed pretty okay with that.
A sparkle twinkles in Jackson’s eyes as I shift uncomfortably. Then he wets his lips with his tongue, folds his arms, and leans against the doorframe. “So, if you’re not here for desert, then why are you?”
I grow even more uneasy. Did Benton not tell him what he asked me to do? Oh my gosh, what if it was a prank! That would make much more sense than the six of them being spies… or whatever the heck they are.
“Relax, Zhara,” Jackson says through a smile. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“You are?” I ask stupidly. “Wait, about what?”
His smile turns into a full on grin. “Benton was right about you… This just might work.” His gaze drinks me in, and then he steps back and nods for me to come inside. “Now get your cute ass in here.”
Okay, so, I may not be a fan of the word cute, but Jackson made it sound so…. Well, not like an insult.
I tug on the hem of my shorts then cross my arms, feeling very self-conscious as I step across the threshold. Jackson doesn’t move back, giving me hardly any room to squeeze by him, and my elbow ends up brushing his chest. I shiver from the contact. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I haven’t touched a guy before. And I kissed Benton the other night. Yet, here I am, shivering, because my elbow touched a hot guy’s chest.
Face palm.
“Cold?” Jackson bites back a laugh as he moves to shut the door.
“A little,” I lie. And not very well since it’s ninety-five freaking degrees outside.
Chuckling, Jackson walks by me and motions for me to follow him. “Come on, cute girl, let’s go introduce you to everyone.”
I blink, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Did he just call me cute girl?
My giddiness goes goodbye, see ya later, though, the second I enter the living room. For some stupid reason, I didn’t think about the fact that I’d have to meet all of the six Bad Boy Rebels at once. That realization is slapped across my face as twelve pairs of very sexy, smoldering, intense eyes fasten on me.
“Zhara,” Benton says with a nod of his head, not seeming the least bit surprised to see me standing in his living room. “Glad you made it.”
I give him a skeptical look. Did he think I’d show up the whole time?
As if reading my thoughts, he winks at me.
I shake my head, biting down on my lip.
The move makes him chuckle.
“Okay, does anyone else feel like they’re having a silent conversation?” Jackson asks from beside me.
Jett, the proclaimed stoner of the group, raises his hand. “Oh! I think they might have that mind power thing.”
Xavier, who’s sitting by Jett on the sofa, rolls his eyes. “It’s called telepathy and it’s not real.” He lightly smacks Jett on the back of the head. “You really need to lay off the weed, man. It’s killing your brain cells.”
Jett waves him off. “I wouldn’t have known that word anyway.”
Xavier sighs and shakes his head, then his gaze skims over me and lands on Benton. “Why is she here? I thought she wasn’t coming.”
“Oh my God, don’t start.” Wilder, the musician/photographer/writer/anything artistic of the group, groans, his head bobbing back. “I can’t take any more male PMSing today.”
“I don’t have male PMS,” Xavier snaps. “That’s not even a real thing.”
Ridge, the quietest one of the group, sets the laptop he’s holding down on the coffee table. “I really wish you guys would stop fighting over everything.”
“It’s a nice thought,” Jackson agrees. “But probably not very realistic.”
Jett nods his head in agreement while Xavier and Wilder continue to argue over whether male PMS is actually a real thing. The entire situation is overwhelming and I find myself conflicted over whether I should’ve come here.
“All right, that’s enough.” Benton claps his hands loudly, causing everyone to zip their lips. Then he rises from the recliner and comes to stand beside me. “So, I know you all know who Zhara is, but I don’t think any of you have actually talked to her, right?” When Jett raises his hand—he did that in class a lot too, but only to ask to go to the bathroom—Benton says. “Yes, Jett.”
Lowering his hand, a lazy smile spreads across Jett’s face. “Actually, I have spoken to Zhara before. We worked on a group project in science together. Dissection of the frog.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. It was sophomore year.” I scrunch my nose at the memory. “You ended up starting the frog on fire.”
Wilder makes a gagging sound while Jett snaps his fingers.
“That’s right.” Jett shudders, yet continues to smile. “That smell haunted my nightmares for years.”
I nod in agreement. “It was like spoiled eggs and road kill spawned a baby.”
Jett blinks at me then busts up laughi
ng. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard.”
Xavier smacks him on the arm. “Would you knock it off?”
“Knock what off?” Jett gapes at him. “I’m just laughing.”
Xavier gives him a pressing look I can’t decipher, but apparently it means something to Jett because he grows quiet.
From my side, Benton lets out a weighted sigh. “All right, that’s enough. Everyone just needs to introduce themselves, so that we can start training Zhara.”
“Training?” My eyes widen as reality throat punches me.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Don’t worry, it’s not that hard. And I’m sure your cuteness will make it even easier.” Jackson tugs on a strand of my hair, causing Benton to frown.
Jackson gives him a what did I do look, but Benton only shakes his head.
“Can we please just get this done,” Benton groans. “We’re low on time.”
“Fine. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Jackson sticks his hand out to me. “Zhara, I’m Jackson. I love long walks on the beach, hot fudge sundaes, and pretty girls in cheerleader uniforms.” He winks at me. “So, if you ever feel like wearing yours, I’m totally cool with it.”
Unsure how to reply, I move to shake his hand. When our palms greet, he lifts my hand to his lips and places a kiss against my skin. Then he mutters something in French, a language which I’m unfortunately not fluent in.
“Quit showing off,” Benton warns. “And quit pretending you speak French.”
“I’m not pretending and I’ll prove it.” Jackson grins. “Bonjour.”
Benton sighs then faces the rest of the room. “All right, Ridge, you’re up.”
Ridge adjusts his square frame glasses, gets to his feet, and crosses the room with his hand stretched out toward me.
“Hey, Zhara, I’m Ridge,” he introduces himself quietly.
I put my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you,” I feel the need to say, because while we had classes together, I’m not sure if we’ve ever spoken.
Unlike Jackson, Ridge is quieter and more reserved, and considering all the AP classes he was in, I’m guessing he’s also smart. He doesn’t kiss my hand either, so that’s an extra bonus. Well, I think so anyway. Since the back of my hand still tickles from Jackson’s kiss, I’m wondering just how much I really didn’t like it.
