But his hand on my elbow does nothing to me. Not even a spark. His touch is meaningless.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” I offer him a faint smile, but he doesn’t react whatsoever. He just drops his hand, nods at me once, and leaves.
I watch him go, as he heads for his friends, Whit of course, being one of them. His gaze snags on mine, his expression unreadable, and I stare back at the beautiful boy who’s blackmailing me. A boy who calls me shitty names, all while he touches me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and drives me wild with his mouth. His fingers.
God, I despise him. He’s so confusing.
The rest of the day I catch Whit watching me with almost disgust in his gaze. Or anger. I can’t tell. He’s so incredibly frustrating, and now I’m the one who ignores him, determined to enjoy the day and its beautiful weather while I can. It’s late in the afternoon and I’m sitting on the grass close to the library with Sylvie, the backs of our thighs itching from the grass.
“I should’ve brought a blanket,” I grumble as I scratch myself.
Sylvie laughs. “I like the itch. Makes me feel alive.”
I send her a look, but she seems dead serious. She’s so—odd sometimes. I wonder if she lies about the dying stuff, but she’s always so sincere when she mentions it. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” She waves a hand, dismissing my question. “Mother found me a new doctor.”
Frowning, I pluck at the grass. “For what?”
“No one can ever figure out what’s wrong with me. When they don’t deliver the answers she wants to hear, she moves on and finds a new one.” Sylvie shrugs. “It’s just her way. She wants to make sure I have the best medical attention out there, and we can certainly afford it.”
I can only imagine the money that’s been spent on Sylvie’s health. “Do you have a disease?”
“Oh, I have all sorts of them, with names I can’t pronounce and they’re almost all incurable.” She presses her hands together almost in prayer, her fingers dancing against each other. “I have a copy of my medical file if you’d like to look it over sometime.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, making her laugh more. “Is that why you were gone over the weekend? Were you with your mother?”
“How did you know I was gone? I told no one. Mother showed up Friday morning and said we had to go. She whisked me away in the Rolls. Mommy always travels in style.” Her eyes narrow as she contemplates me. “Wait a minute. Did you speak to Whit? Is he the one who told you I left?”
“No.” I am in complete denial with Sylvie when it comes to her brother. “We don’t talk.”
We really don’t. Not much anyway. We just argue. Say mean things to each other. Get naked. And give each other orgasms. Now that we’ve progressed to full-on fucking, it’s all I can think about.
I can’t wait to do it again.
“Sure you don’t,” Sylvie says, her voice ringing with doubt. “He looks at you as if he wants to eat you up.”
My cheeks warm, and I know they must be red. “He does not.”
“He does too. He stares at you every time you walk past him. He even turns his head and watches you leave, and he never does that. You don’t have to confirm or deny, because I already know. You two are together.” She laughs when she sees the mortified expression on my face. “Mother will have an absolute fit and I’m sure he’s doing it to spite her, so enjoy him while you can.”
Her words cut deep, though she didn’t mean for them to. He’s only using me to upset his mother? And I should enjoy him while I can?
God, he’s such an asshole.
Sylvie holds her hand above her eyes and looks around, her face lighting up when she spots someone. “Hey! Over here!” She holds her arm up and waves.
I glance over in the direction she’s facing to see Spencer and Whit making their way toward us. My heart falls into my stomach as I watch him saunter over, his expression bored as usual. As if he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Near me.
“Brother dearest. Spencer.” Sylvie inclines her head toward them and they do the same. “What are you two gentlemen doing this fine, warm afternoon?”
“Looking for girls to fuck,” Whit says, his gaze on me and no one else.
Sylvie makes an irritated noise while Spence laughs uncomfortably. “I told you I don’t want to hear about your latest conquests, brother dearest.” She glances over at me, her lips curling. “You’re just trying to shock my friend with your crude language.”
“Not too sure about that. I don’t think much shocks Savage,” Whit says with a shitty grin.
I glare at him, wishing I could hit him.
I also wish he would touch me.
More uncomfortable laughter comes from Spencer, causing Sylvie to set her sights on him. “Are you looking for a girl to fuck, Spence?”
“Uhh.” His cheeks redden. He’s clearly flustered, which I find endearing. He’s also not as smooth as Whit. Nothing bothers him. Of course, this is the boy made of stone so I’m not surprised.
Sylvie’s tinkling laughter fills the air as she bounds to her feet and makes her way to Spence, stopping directly in front of him. He’s tall, and he towers over sweet little Sylvie. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
“We’re not supposed to leave campus,” he says.
She pats his chest, making a tsking noise. “I’m a Lancaster, Spence. I can leave whenever I want. Let’s go. Will you drive?”
Spence puffs up his chest, his brown eyes only for her. “Sure, Syl.”
Whit shoves at his friend’s shoulder before thrusting his finger in Spence’s face. “You touch a hair on her head, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
Spence rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, fuckface. I’m not interested in your sister like that.”
“You’re such a dick, Whit. Leave him alone,” Sylvie fumes, her gaze cutting to me. “Sorry to abandon you, but ice cream calls. Bye!”
I watch Spence and Sylvie leave, hyperaware of Whit’s eyes on me. Only when they’re out of view do I dare look over at him. “I’m surprised you want to be seen in public with me.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, his expression impassive. “Sylvie called us over. What was I supposed to do?”
“Ignore her?” I arch a brow.
His gaze drops to my legs, lingering. “I’ve been trying to ignore you all week.”
His honesty is surprising. “Trust me. I know.”
“You’re rolling up your skirt.” His glittering eyes meet mine. “Trying to catch my attention?”
“Is it working?”
“Spread your legs a little and I’ll let you know,” he drawls, his gaze, once again, returning to my skirt.
I clamp my thighs together, drawing my knees up. “You’re disgusting.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. And it’s a joyous sound that reaches deep into my belly and tugs at something unfamiliar. “You fucking like it, considering you’re just as disgusting as me.”
His words hit home because they’re true. “Why have you ignored me?”