I can’t believe I actually thought things would be different, that Rob’s friends might finally get off my back since Rob and I messed around.
No such luck.
I swear I would have no luck at all if not for bad luck.
It’s not that I’m with Rob officially or anything, so maybe mutual masturbation isn’t enough in their eyes, and I would have to do the dirty deed.
Fuck that and fuck them. Whether or not I spread my legs is not their business.
As I stare at the splash of soup coating my lap, I try to remain calm.
“Score!” Gabe says, high-fiving Zac.
I pluck the golf ball out of my soup bowl. When I first saw the ball in his hand, I thought Gabe might aim for my head or try to peg me with it, but no, my soup had been his target. There’s even some soup dripping down my face, a speck stuck on my mascara-coated lashes.
“Nice shot,” I admit as I stand. The soup runs off my skirt and down my legs, but I ignore that. The two guys are standing two tables away, but there aren’t a ton of people in the café right now. No one sits at the tables between us, and I cock back my arm, aiming for Gabe’s head.
But then a hand grips my, holding my arm cocked back awkwardly.
“What do you think you’re going to do?” Ace hisses in my ear.
“Are you trying to break my arm?”
“I would never intentionally try to hurt someone.” He releases me, and I narrow my eyes at him, not trusting him in the least.
“Not even on the football field?”
“Not on the field or off,” he says. “I’m a quarterback. Players try to hurt me, not the other way around.”
“Of course you’re the quarterback.” I roll my eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re arrogant and entitled and expect the world to bow at your feet, and since I’m not about to bow or bend over backward for you…”
“Are you flexible?”
“Excuse me?”
He just grins.
Fuck. I hadn’t intended for him to take that sexually.
“Is that really all guys ever think about?” I ask before I can think better of i.
“Is what all guys think about?” Zac asks. He and Gabe made their way over, sanding opposite Ace and me.
“If you’re referring to sex, that’s a yes,” Gabe says. “Sex, girls… that’s pretty much it.”
“It’s a wonder you’re here,” I say. “That you made the grade, or are you just here on scholarship? Because I can believe that.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” he asks.
“If the shoe fits.”
“Do you know how much discipline running requires?” he demands. “It’s not just about endurance. It’s a mental struggle, a race against your past self, not against the other competitors.”
“What does that have to do with intelligence?”