“But it’s oh so fun.” Devlin tips his head to give me a smile.
This one startles me because it’s not like his fake ones. I think it might be genuine. It makes him appear…less evil. My heart thuds and my eyes drop to the dimple winking at me.
“Cut it out.” Flustered, I press my palms to his chest and push. “Go play soccer.”
Devlin covers my hands with his, squeezing them against his jersey. “Wish me luck. You’re my personal pep squad.”
“You don’t need it.” I need him out of my space. I have to clear my head, find my happy place to do what he ordered.
The threat of the kiss clause hangs over my head.
“Blair.”
I dart my gaze up to meet his. Hair hangs across his forehead. One side of his mouth tugs up as wicked amusement dances in his gaze.
Oh, god. I haven’t really thought about it all day, too busy enduring the humiliation of wearing the cheer uniform. If I don’t kiss him at the end of the practice match, I don’t get paid.
Devlin squeezes my trapped hands again. “You suck at this. Say ‘good luck, Devlin’ or something.”
I lick my lips. Devlin zeroes in on my mouth.
“Good luck, asshole.”
“Dev, let’s go!” Bishop calls.
“In a minute,” he shouts back, staring intently at my lips. His thumb brushes over them. “You’re here to cheer for me. When I win, I’m coming to claim these.”
My stomach bottoms out.
Devlin grins at whatever he finds in my deer-in-headlights expression, then pinches my cheek before jogging onto the field. The girls gathered squeal for him, forming their own squad. I stand there, dumbfounded.
I touch my lips, where his soft caress lingers. His words repeat in my head.
When I win, I’m coming to claim these.
My entire body is wracked by a shiver from the hot and cold sensation traveling over my skin.
How can I be turned on right now? Doesn’t that make me some kind of fucked up, to want a kiss from the guy who has bullied me for three long years?
Scrubbing my face, I think I finally understand the dilemma Gemma faced last year.
I never thought I’d grapple with the same problem.
“You know,” says one girl that breaks off from the group and crosses over the invisible line in the sand between us. “Devlin doesn’t do girlfriends. He does hookups. So whatever you think you’ve got with him, it’s not gonna last.”
Normally, I’d ignore her. Hell, I agree with her. But it’s getting hard to take people’s crap around here while I hold my tongue. The fiery need to fight back stirs beneath my skin.
Tipping my head, I click my tongue in sympathy. “Aw, are you jealous? That’s cute. Did you know jealousy derives from feeling threatened?”
The girl squints, curling her lip. “You’re trash. He won’t want you for long.” Her eyes rake over the cheer uniform. “Why don’t you go try out for the dog show instead? That’s where you belong, bitch.”
I choke back an incredulous laugh. Devlin doesn’t want me, period. This whole thing is an exercise in making me jump as high as fucking possible for his game.
“If Devlin only does hookups, I guess that means you don’t have a chance to be his girlfriend, either. Better go gold digging somewhere else.”
The girl’s eyes go wide with outrage, and she stomps off to lick the wound caused by the truth amongst her friends. They all shoot me nasty looks.
Whatever. They’re the ones fighting over a guy that doesn’t even notice they exist.