“Are you kidding? They hate me. They don’t even want me here. They think I’m going to go to their school and ruin their popularity.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t think about that.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He smiles. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What? What’s the deal?”
“You don’t like Braden, right?”
“No. I think he’s an ass. So is Trystan, but Braden’s worse. He’s rude. Arrogant. Thinks he’s better than everyone. And I found out today he gets special treatment from the teachers and principal because he’s good at football. I can’t stand guys like him.”
“What kind of special treatment?” Jackson asks. “Like fixing his grades?”
“I don’t know about that, but the way the principal talked about him, you’d think Braden was a model student. There’s no way that’s true. The principal just forgives whatever Braden does because he wins on the football field.”
“He doesn’t always win,” Jackson says with a smirk.
“So what’s the deal you want to make? If it’s money, I’ll need a ride to an ATM.”
“I don’t want money.”
“Then what do you want?”
“You.”
I take a step back. “Me? You want me to have sex with you?” I turn and storm off. “Forget I even asked!”
“Rumor, wait!” He comes up behind me. “That’s not what I meant.”
I turn around. “Then what did you mean? Because saying you wantmeusually only means one thing. And if that’s what you want then—”
“It’s not. Come inside and we’ll talk.”
“Talk, as in actually talk?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Yes. I’ll even put a shirt on so it’s perfectly clear I only want to talk.”
“Fine,” I say, going past him, although I wouldn’t mind if he left the shirt off.
We go inside, and I wait while he goes to his room. He comes back wearing a white muscle shirt that shows off his arms. It’s almost as distracting as when he was shirtless. I love the curve in his muscles. The definition in his arms and shoulders. Why am I suddenly so attracted to a guy like this when my boyfriend looks nothing like him?
“So what is it?” I ask, sitting on the couch. “What’s the deal?”
“I want to take him down,” Jackson says.
“Who? Braden?”
“He’s a little shit who thinks he knows everything and uses people, then tosses them aside.”
“How do you know him so well?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jackson sits beside me, and I get a whiff of his cologne. Damn, he smells good. I used to beg Axl to wear cologne, but he wouldn’t do it. He said it gave him a headache.
“What do you mean by take him down?”
He smiles. “You come from a family of actors.”
