His little stirring just reminds me that getting off is not on the agenda, no matter how much his insistent ass keeps whispering it in my ear. The slouching pout my dick makes doesn’t even register with me because, at this precise moment, an unamused Stone Bennett is staring directly at me with a displeased scowl stitched on her pretty little face.
And this, right here, is when I freeze.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Initially, I had planned to intercept Stone on her way to class by accidentally bumping into her like it was a serendipitous event or some shit like that. Then find a way to insert myself in her life without being obvious about it. Maybe casually ask her out for a cup of coffee or invite her to one of my games, something along those lines. My approach needed to look inconspicuous, innocent, and totally natural.
Not this shit!
Instead of the meet-cute I had orchestrated, I look like a fucking stalker. I’m standing just a smidge away from her with a pissed-off expression on my face and a trickle of sweat on my brow from the unexpected sprint I had to make to get my ass over to her.
With an acrimonious glower dominating her light, emerald eyes, Stone crosses her arms over the same cleavage I had pictured my dick being in between not even two seconds ago, waiting impatiently for me to say something.
Think, Finn. Think.
Open your mouth and say something!
This is where Easton is right on the money when he ridicules me so. I don’t know how to talk to girls. It’s like they’re an entirely different species to me. I’ve never had the need for it, either. Most of the time, the girls who approach me do all the talking for me. They know my reputation and what exactly I’m about. I’m a one-time thing. They mount on, and I get off. No small talk really needed.
I’m not like East, who can say something witty and sarcastic at the drop of a hat to break the ice with perfect strangers. I don’t have Colt’s panty-melting smile or his cockiness that women naturally seem mesmerized by. And I sure as hell am no Lincoln Hamilton, whose name alone is enough to open a dialogue and gain genuine interest.
I’m just me—blunt, always in his head, occasionally crude, me.
And right now, being me doesn’t seem like it’s going to cut it.
“You lost again, pretty boy?” Stone asks, finally slicing through the deafening silence, with a cock to her brow and a teasing smirk on her lips.
“Why aren’t you in class?” I hear myself grunt at her, rather than using her little taunt to my advantage and starting a normal conversation with her.
“Excuse me? What concern is that of yours?”
“Just answer the fucking question, Stone. Why the fuck aren’t you in class?”
She slants her eyes and tries to bypass me without answering. But before she’s able to escape, I hover over her, making her eat back her steps until she’s leaning against her ugly-ass truck with nowhere to go. Only this time, no one can see her short skirt and her tempting boobs with my bulky frame covering her like a big-ass shadow.
“You know, for a big guy, you sure don’t have a lot stocked up in that huge head of yours. You’re seconds away from my knee slamming into your junk if you don’t step out of my personal space,” she states sweetly, deepening her southern twang to make her sound all respectable-like.
The amused glint in her eye tells me she’s anything but, and would love nothing more than to kick me in the nutsack and have me fall down into the fetal position at her feet. I don’t know why, but instead of heeding her warning, I lean in closer until my face is a breath away from hers, close enough to feel her heart pounding against mine.
“Don’t act cute, little girl. Why did you ditch?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated long exhale.
“I didn’t ditch, asshole. My ethics professor decided to play a no-show today. He sent everyone in my class an email this morning telling us as much. Happy now?” she explains, waving her hand between us and forcing me to step aside.
But I’m not done.
“Do you always come to school wearing a getup like what you’ve got on? Are you allergic to clothes that actually fit you, or something?”
She bats her eyes at me, placing her middle finger across her succulent, red-painted lips, and blows me a kiss.
“Fuck you, quarterback. Don’t like what you see, then don’t look,” she counters coolly, before pushing my chest away to gain her precious space back.
She’s not strong enough to actually move me from my rooted spot, but I take three steps back just the same.
“It’s been real, pretty boy. But let’s not make this a common occurrence, yeah?” she singsongs, swaying her hips left to right with her middle finger still up in the air as her parting wave.
I let out a scoff, but my eyes linger on her juicy ass just a few minutes longer.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t do much better at befriending her today than I did last Sunday night, but it could have gone a whole lot worse. Any other girl would have freaked if I showed up out of the blue and got all up in her face. However, I highly doubt a girl like Stone Bennett scares off easily. The girl is a looker and certainly has to deal with handsy assholes all the time. I’m sure she would have pepper-sprayed my ass if she thought I was a real creeper.
So, even though it didn’t go the way I planned, I’ll consider today’s interaction with her a win.
I just hope The Society sees it the same way.
Chapter 6
Stone
This cannot be happening.
What the hell is Finn Walker’s damage?
Argh!
I suck in my teeth as I resentfully slow my ascent up the stairs leading to my psychology class—a class I’m already five minutes late to, I might add.
Mr. Quarterback himself has decided, today of all days, to make the bold move of standing guard right at the door to get my undivided attention. His calculated position makes it that I have to bypass his imposing frame if I want to get inside the classroom, which means I can’t ignore his beautiful, sculpted face as I’ve painstakingly tried to do for the past few weeks. Unless a meteor suddenly falls from the sky onto the big Northside jerk’s head and knocks him out cold, I have no choice but to confront the gorgeous beast of a man head-on.
Damn it.
Finn has been pulling this type of crap on me for weeks now. No matter where I go on campus, there he is waiting for me with his eyes locked on my every move, jaw tight and permanent scowl in place, only releasing an aggravated grunt or two when I occasionally acknowledge his presence by flipping him off. The deep-seated black look he always has on display every time he forces these exasperating collisions almost has me believing he hates the very sight of me. But for whatever ludicrous reason, Finn can’t find it in himself to stay away, ending up tormenting me instead, with those clear, blue eyes fixed in his usual smoldering glare.
I seriously don’t get why the hell I’ve suddenly become so goddamned fascinating to Richfield’s pride and joy star quarterback. His stalking behavior is all sorts of confusing, and frankly, messing with my head more than I would like it to be.