I was bummed to see that there were a lot of kids from the Academy at Sammy’s Pizza. It seemed like the place to be after football practice. If I didn’t have such a weak spot for pizza, I would have skipped dinner or insisted we go somewhere quieter. But I had a feeling this was all intentional. Brock wanted everyone to see us together. I was just happy Ava hadn’t come here before herintimate gathering.WTF. Just call it like it was. A ho party.
We were seated at a booth in the corner, offering a tad of privacy, but it meant we had to walk through the entire dining area, and everyone stared. Brock put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me with light pressure to keep moving. Being out in public with him was like being on display. Everyone stopped and gawked. The crazy part was that Brock seemed unaware of the attention he drew—that, or he was just so used to it that he was no longer fazed. What was it about this side of town that was so fascinated about the Elite?
Then I looked at Brock, and I remembered.
He was fucking gorgeous.
But that wasn’t why. It helped, but there was more than just a pretty face behind his over-the-top popularity. Brock and his friends had made a name for themselves.
We were only seated for less than a minute when a server came over and dropped a strawberry shake in front of me and a Coke for Brock without ever taking our drink orders.
I glanced up at the guy in his early twenties, if that. “Uh, I didn’t order this,” I said politely, indicating to the milkshake.
He looked at Brock with a stupid grin on his face.
It dawned on me then, the reference to the milkshake I’d mentioned before practice. I turned slitted eyes on Brock, who leaned back in the booth, his long legs stretched out under the table so they touched mine. “You did this. Smooth, Taylor, smooth.” I slid the tall glass toward me and took a long sip of the sweet berry-flavored shake. I couldn’t stop the grin. “You’re still not getting laid.”
His lips twitched.
“What I want to know is how you pulled this off.” We had been together the entire time from the moment we stepped into the pizza place.
His eyes heated and dropped to my lips. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
My body warmed, and I sucked down another gulp of shake. At this rate, we weren’t going to make it through dinner. I had a mind to drag him into the back of his SUV and make good on all those threats I’d been issuing.
We shared a long look, filled with unspoken promises. I never wanted to hate and love someone all in the same breath as I did this guy. I should have known at my mother’s wedding he would be bad news.
The urge to close the distance between us and leap over the table became a pestering throb within me. That would give everyone something to talk about at school tomorrow.Ohmygod, did you hear? Josie James jumped into Brock Taylor’s lap last night and basically humped him while shoveling pizza in her mouth.
Two pizzas arrived at our table, thankfully interrupting not only my inner monologue but also the mounting sexual tension hovering in the air between Brock and me. Trevor, our server, set one mushroom and sausage pizza on the table. The other was an extravaganza with literally everything you could imagine on a pizza.
I’d died.
Brock thanked Trevor after he dropped two plates onto the table for us and left.
Reaching across the table, I snagged a piece of pizza and plopped it on my plate to cool for a few seconds, because the shit was fresh and hot. “What the hell, Taylor? We didn’t even order. Do you always get such premium service wherever you go?”
He considered, taking a piece from the other pizza for himself. “I guess. I don’t really think about it.”
And that was sad. He was so used to being treated like a god, it was natural.
“So you’re not one of those girls that just eats one slice?” he asked when I helped myself to my third piece of pizza.
I laughed. “Uh, definitely not. I’m going to eat my weight in pizza.” For someone who could be so intimidating, conversation with Brock was effortless. We clicked in more than in bed.
On the way home, I made him park a few houses down from mine, seeing as Angie and Steven would lose their shit if they saw him. Our house was officially anti-Elite after they put Carter in the hospital—except for me, of course. I was utterly team Brock.
He wasn’t thrilled about not being able to drive me up to the house, and even in the dark car, I could see the deep frown lines on his forehead.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “If it makes you feel better, you can watch me from the car, and if anyone kidnaps me, I’ll expect you to rescue me.”
Brock wasn’t laughing or smiling. “Promise me you’ll stay out of this. He will hurt you if given the chance.”
Shit. That was a promise I couldn’t make, not without lying, but still, I nodded, because to do otherwise would make him suspicious.
* * *
Three weeks later, Grayson threw one of his legendary parties.Theparty.