Doll face?
“I’m not saying I don’t want to tell you what’s going on. I’m saying could you please stop undressing him with your eyes and making sex noises while you eat cupcakes? That’s what I’m saying.”
“Oh. Well, okay, sure. I can do that,” she says, patting my hand while she glances over my shoulder. Then she pouts as she adds, “He’s not even looking over here.”
“Of all the nerve,” I sarcastically reply, biting into the pizza on my tray. Most students don’t exactly enjoy school cafeteria food, but I will tell you this: I am not most people, and school pizza happens to be my favorite, with the grilled cheese and tomato soup coming in at a close second. Unable to resist, I lean into Jenna and ask, “What’s he doing now?”
She looks over, earrings swaying airily. “He’s…” She sits up straighter to get a better look over the sea of heads. “He’s eating…and”—she strains her neck up and squints—“he looks angry, but then again, what else is new?” Jenna flops back down in her seat. “That’s a look I like to call sexy angry.” She points at me with her index finger. “You better get on that.”
“Get your finger out of my face.” I laugh, smacking her hand away and taking a sip of my bottled water. Unable to stop myself, I chew my bottom lip and glance in Weston’s general direction in the cafeteria, even though I can’t see him above the fray.
“Have you talked to him at all today?”
“No. We only have study hall together. He’s not exactly…” I pause and play with the cap on the plastic bottle in my hands.
Jenna leans in and quietly says, “Generous with outward affection?”
Surprised, I glance up at her with a wry smile on my face, glad she kind of gets it without me having to explain. This relationship isn’t exactly what I’d call complicated, but it’s not exactly a walk in the park either. I mean, because he has something of an obligation to his sport, I haven’t been made to feel like any kind of priority.
And until this moment, I guess I didn’t realize how bad that felt.
Feeling a bit bummed, I nod my head and fake a smile.
CHAPTER 26
WESTON
“Dude, you’re dating my ex-girlfriend? I’m eating a sandwich. Did you want some of those leftovers too?”
– More wit from cousin Jake
You’ll have to take my word for it when I say it’s damn hard to eat a decent lunch when you’re surrounded by idiots. Not only is it loud in this godforsaken place, but also the guys at my table—my “friends”—don’t make it any better by competing to be the most obnoxious and immature.
We have a game this weekend, and although it’s four days away, I am trying to get my head in the game. Instead, I’m being mind-fucked by the memory of my dad’s attitude toward Molly and her reaction to it.
Seriously, I don’t have time for shit like that, and it just goes to prove that is the exact reason I don’t get involved with the opposite sex. Even though, to be fair, the drama wasn’t created by Molly—but it did happen because of her.
Keeping my head down to ignore the crude remarks buzzing around the table, I pull my ball cap farther down over my eyes and hunch my shoulders to lean over my tray. I’m sure I look like Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but I don’t give a shit.
I have a lot on mind and I’m still hungry, even after one banana, two slices of greasy pizza, three Otis Spunkmeyer cookies, and one Mountain Dew. My eyes scan the trays of my friends in front of me, and I notice Bryan Bossner has half a hamburger on his tray.
Without asking, I reach for it.
“What the hell, man!” Despite his protests, I cram it into my mouth, shoving it all in in one piece.
“I’m hungry,” I mumble with a mouthful, barely able to get the words out.
“How is that my problem? I wasn’t done with that, asshole. Get your lazy ass up and go buy yourself something.”
Irritated, I shoot him a look, finish chewing, then swallow before saying, “Don’t fucking call me lazy.”
Bryan tries to stare me down, and it looks like he wants to tell me to go fuck myself, but a few seconds later he looks away instead. For the briefest of seconds, I feel a small stab of guilt, if you can call it that, but when I glance down the table and catch Rick watching me from the corner of his eye, the feeling disappears.
If anyone can make me lose my shit, it’s him.
To be fair, I haven’t heard much from him since I threatened to kick his ass, and I know he hasn’t spoken to Molly either, but still, I don’t trust him, and I sure as hell don’t like him, even if I have to call him teammate.