“You have a pet pig?” a hot guy with cute dimples asks, arching a brow. He’s standing with Sean, so I assume he’s a friend although Sean hasn’t made introductions yet.
“No, but if I did, I wouldn’t give it that slop.”
He chuckles, and waves of messy chocolate-brown hair fall into his eyes. “Can’t disagree. The food here is shit, but it beats starving.”
“I think I’d rather starve,” I deadpan, inspecting the pathetic sandwich offerings on display.
He chuckles again, moving aside to let Sean and Sariah pass. “I’m guessing the food here is a lot different than the food at Lowell Academy.”
I nod as I grab a ham and cheese sandwich that looks like it’s the most edible. “That’s the only thing I’ll miss about the place.”
“I’m Emmett, by the way,” he says, whipping my tray from my hands.
I glare at him as I grab it back. “Did I ask you to carry it?”
His grin expands, and he’s even hotter when he smiles. His warm brown eyes glimmer with interest. “I’m just being a gentleman.”
I walk off, following in the direction my bestie and her boyfriend have taken. Emmett keeps pace at my side, and I glance up at him. Judging by his height and his ripped body, I’m guessing he’s a football player too. “If you’re looking to get into my panties, acting like a gentleman is a surefire recipe for failure.”
I’m walking past a long table when a leg darts out on purpose. I jump over Galen’s foot at the very last second, narrowly avoiding wearing my lunch. I plaster a bored look on my face as I stare at him. “Real mature, asshole.”
I ignore all members of The Sainthood, walking away with Emmett faithfully clinging to my side.
“Let me guess. You’re into assholes,” he asks, a tinge of disappointment underscoring his words.
“And if I was?” I ask, sliding into a seat at the empty table opposite the jock table. Sariah shoots me a look, but she gets up from her seat beside Sean and moves over to my table.
“Then I’d tell you I’ve no desire to be an asshole, and I’d go out of my way to prove that nice guys can be bad in all the right ways,” he says, waggling his brows as he hovers over the table.
A genuine smile slides over my mouth. “There might be hope for you yet.”
“Does that mean I can join you for lunch?” he asks, sharing a look with Sean as he too leaves the jock table, claiming the seat beside his girlfriend, across from me.
“Nope.” The chair beside me scrapes noisily along the tile floor as Saint plops down into it. “This seat is taken.” He levels a dark look at Emmett. “Permanently.”
“Fuck off, Saint.” I move to stand, but he grabs my wrist, keeping me in place.
I hate how my skin tingles from the contact.
How his touch coaxes a host of memories from the furthermost place in my mind.
How my brain rejoices at reliving every second of that hot night we shared together.
“I’m not sitting with you or any of your minions,” I add as Caz, Galen, and Theo sit down around us. “I’d rather sit at the fucking jock table.”
Emmett extends his hand. “You can sit with me.”
I place my hand in his, purely to taunt Saint. I attempt to wrench my other hand away from Saint, but he tightens his hold on my wrist, almost crushing my bones as he refuses to let me go.
Caz stands, rounding the table and pulling Emmett’s hand out of mine. “Don’t be an idiot. Stick with the cheerleaders,” he says, shoving him forcefully toward the jock table.
Emmett stumbles back a few feet before recovering. He reclaims the gap, squaring up to Caz. “I don’t take orders from thugs.”
“Maybe you should,” Theo says, not lifting his eyes from his iPad. “Unless you’d prefer your sister get kicked out of the hospital program.” He tips his chin up, staring at him with a face devoid of emotion. “She’ll probably die without that experimental drug, right?”
I’m not surprised the assholes have done their homework. It’s basic survival of the fittest. You don’t rock up to a new school without ammunition. And there’s no better ammunition than secrets and weak spots. My experience taught me that as well.
Secrets are the most important currency around these parts.
“Sit at the jock table, Emmett,” I say through clenched teeth. “It was never going to happen anyway.”
In another lifetime, before I was forced down this path, I could see myself with someone like Emmett. A nice guy with a side order of bad. Someone who could push my buttons and rein me in.
But this is my reality. And the Emmetts of this world don’t belong in it.
He’s seething. His fists are balled up and ready to unleash pain. But starting something would not be smart. And he’s obviously got smarts because, a couple seconds later, he turns around and wordlessly retreats to the jock table.
“Let go of my wrist,” I demand, plastering a neutral expression on my face as I eyeball Saint.
“Are you going to behave?” His thumb makes circular motions against my skin.
“No.”
He smirks, and his eyes burn with intensity as he rakes his gaze up and down my body. His inked fingers continue exploring the skin on the underside of my wrist, and I squirm on my seat as a trail of shivers ghosts over my flesh. He notices, his full lips kicking up in amusement, the dark glint in his eyes flaring with liquid heat.
My core throbs, pulsing in fast succession as his intense gaze does funny things to my insides.
Why the hell does the bastard have to be so freaking hot? And why the hell is he the first guy to ever evoke this type of visceral reaction in me?
I don’t answer my inner monologue because I already know the answers. I just don’t want to admit it or act on it.
“Then, I’m not letting go.”
I’m sure the sharp edge of a blade pressed against that growing bulge in his jeans would do the job. And I could easily reach down and remove my knife from the inside of my boot, but showing my hand this early would be a bad move, so I shut my mouth and urge my twitching fingers to retreat.
“Let her go,” Sean says, casually peeling an orange as he stares at Saint over the table. “Agree to leave Sariah and Harlow alone, and I’ll help you claim the crown at Lowell High.”
Saint grins, yanking me in closer to his side. His arm locks around my shoulders, keeping me firmly in place. “We don’t need any help claiming the crown. We already own it. Tomorrow’s planned little show is just that. A show. A demonstration of what will happen to anyone who dares challenge our authority.”
“You underestimate Finn’s reach if you think a visual threat will bring everyone to heel,” Sean coolly replies. “But if you have the jocks and the cheerleaders on your side, any lingering resistance will die out. It’ll make for a smoother transition.”
Saint runs his free hand over his cropped hairline. “Why would you help?”
“Because I’m a pragmatist. This will happen either way. And I’d rather it happened without anyone getting hurt.”
Galen snorts. “What the fuck do you see in this sap?” He directs his question at Sariah. “You need to sample a real man, sweetheart,” he adds, cupping his crotch. I don’t know if he’s flirting with my bestie to piss me off, incite a fight with Sean, or if he genuinely is interested in her, but he’s already rubbing me the wrong way, and I hate that he’s getting to me.