“Give me a game, Gina?” Rex asks, and she drops down in the space beside him and Jenna.
“Are you going to throw a bitch fit if I beat you again?”
Her response causes a bicker between the two of them to break out, Jenna stepping in to defend her.
Though, if I were to be honest, Regina did take it a step too far and print out the photo she took of the scoreboard, slipping it under Saint and Rex’s dorm room door every time she passed.
“How about you, Indie?”
I snap my head back and stare at Rex wide eyed; I’m going to give myself whiplash tonight.
“Oh no, I’m good. I don’t know how to play.” I release a deep breath. At least he never caught me staring at—
“Saint can show you how? Hey, Saint!”
Oh, dear God, no.
I almost topple to the side when Saint flicks his gaze towards us.
Fuck!
I glare at Jenna, who bats her lashes innocently at me. “Sorry girl, sometimes we need a little push. We all need out of our misery just as much as you two.”
I grind my jaw, fighting the urge to groan out loud.
“More like you gave me a fucking shove, don’t you think?” I whisper-yell at her, and she laughs, bringing her cup up to tap with mine.
“You got this, you’re already friends, just don’t act weird,” Regina adds, and the groan comes out of me anyway.
Fucking traitors.
Jenna and Regina know I like Saint; I confessed it during our last year of high school, but apparently it was old news to them.
That seemed to have sparked Jenna’s matchmaking career, and since she’s been with Rex, the two of them have been slyly working towards getting us together.
Rex apparently told her Saint gives off the same vibes, but he’s never given off any signs to me that he does. The man plays it as cool as ice.
Although, apparently I’m blind and in denial to it, according to the girls.
I can feel him before I see him, the cables in my brain already popping off their connection, his looming figure coming up behind me, causing the back of my neck to prickle.
“You show Indie here how to pool?” Rex says, and my jaw grinds as I turn to look at Saint.
My bare shoulder brushes against his bicep, the small amount of contact sending electricity down to the tips of my fingers.
“Sure.”
That thick accent weakens me at the knees.
He’s never lost it since moving here, and I have never been so thankful for anything.
He heads over to the furthest away table, and I look back at the three of them all plastered together, the same smug smile on each of their faces. They might as well have a bag of popcorn between them.
“You dicks, I see how it is!”
I can’t help the smile that wants to break free.
They’re sitting there like they’re on a judging panel, waiting to see the results of the act they’ve voted for.
