The queen bitch and I were going to have words when I figured out how to ditch my shadows. I didn’t want them stepping in, or worse, preventing me from putting this bitch in her place. I wasn’t someone she could bully, especially over a fucking guy.
I currently sat in the cafeteria surrounded by the Elite—more like dwarfed by them. They had this presence that made me feel cocooned in muscles. Mads was retaking a math test, so it was just the guys and me. I’d checked out of the conversation the moment they started talking football. There was a home game tonight, and I absolutely was not attending. My plans tonight included a gallon of mint ice cream, a bag of cheese popcorn, and a Harry Potter marathon. Nowhere in my agenda did it say anything about football or four overbearing, hot jerks.
It was my name from Fynn’s lips that had my attention refocusing from Ben and Jerry’s to what the four of them were scheming up now.
“Just have her stay with you,” Micah said to Brock. “Your parents are out of town, right?” The playboy’s lips curved in a lopsided grin as he winked at me. He was wearing a light blue shirt, which intensified the color of his eyes.
What the—?
He couldn’t possibly be talking about me. I glanced at Brock beside me.
Scowl three hundred and fifty-two graced Brock's lips. “Yeah. They won’t be back until Monday night.”
God, even when those fucking lips were turned down, I still found myself wanting to kiss them. My body didn’t care that I looked like Kenna, but my brain couldn’t forget. A war brewed inside me, and I didn’t know which side would win.
“That will totally get under his skin,” Fynn agreed. The sleeves of white shirt were rolled, hugging his defined arms.
Seniors or not, the four of them didn’t exactly look like typical high school boys.
Brock’s leg pressed against mine under the table as he leaned forward, and my mouth watered. “What are you talking about?” I interrupted, ignoring the heat that transferred from his body to mine. I swore he had moved closer to me on purpose, and it drove me to distraction.
Micah’s glittering eyes found mine as he shook his head in amusement. “Haven’t you been listening? Stop staring at Brock’s lips.”
“I was not staring at his lips,” I protested in a whispered hiss.
“If you say so.” Micah grinned and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “I bet if I was inside your head right now, you’d be thinking about where he could put his lips.”
Gah. Micah was such a damn troublemaker.
I gave him a menacing grin, wishing I had something to throw at his head, like a fork or a bottle of water. “So you’re jealous of the way my mind works, huh?”
Micah laughed. “It’s too damn bad I didn’t see you first. We’d be so good together.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re staying with me for the weekend,” Brock announced harshly.
I sat up straighter in the chair, my attention snapping to full force. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Do you remember what happened at the last game?” he said bluntly.
How the hell could I forget? “I’m not going to the game. And Carter won’t be there either,” I reminded him.
“No, but his friends will be,” Grayson replied, his expression colder than normal.
Fynn tapped his thumb on the table. “Let’s just say they aren’t happy we interfered with their fun.”
My chest tightened. “Fuck that. I’m no one’sfun.”
“No one but Brock’s,” Micah mumbled under his breath.
Four pairs of eyes glowered at him, and I kicked his shin under the table with my good foot, which only caused him to grin. Unbelievable.
Then Fynn thumped him on the back of the head, becoming my new favorite Elite, and it was my turn to grin.
“Hey,” Micah grumbled.
“Nice one, man,” Grayson said, displaying a rare smile for Fynn.