Hate how much it makes me want to nestle into his side.
I elbow him in the ribs instead, promptly shrugging his arm off.
“C’mon,” Ford coaxes, evidently not giving up. “Give me a kiss, pretty girl. You know you want to.”
“Can you stop?” I groan, lowering my voice as I curl in on myself. “People are looking.”
Ford barks a laugh, tossing his head back. “Then why not give ‘em a show?” he asks, voice carrying a little too loudly. “You’re our Doll. They expect you to be all over us.”
My stomach clenches. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
“Because she can’t keep playing innocent little virgin if she’s climbing all over your dicks in public,” Raf grumbles, finally breaking his silent villain act to glance up at me. His eyes are cold, but there’s something else behind them– a strange kind of longing, maybe? Or just hatred. With him, it’s hard to tell.
I swing my gaze on him, unblinking, the tension in my spine ratcheting up a notch. “Screw you,” I hiss, but it comes out small and hollow.
“Soon,” he replies, the ghost of a smirk curling his lips. “Ready to beg?”
He cocks a dark brow, and my heart trips over its valves.
“Whatever, that ship’s already sailed,” Ford scoffs, not missing a beat. “She already sucked me off in front of half the school, remember?”
My face explodes with heat. “Could you not–” I start, but he cuts me off with a gleeful cackle.
“What? There are worse things,” he laughs, completely unapologetic. “Would you rather everyone know you’re a sad little virgin?”
“Yes, actually,” I snap, cutting him a death glare.
He rolls his eyes, waving me off. “Fine, we’ll dedicate Friday’s party to you. Let everyone know you’re finally about to get that cherry popped.”
My heart stops. “What party?” I ask, dread unfurling in my chest.
“Ford wants to have a party at the boathouse this weekend, remind everyone of the hierarchy around here,” Wes says with a sigh, swiveling his gaze toward Ford. “I don’t have the time to get this shit together, not with finals right around the corner.”
“That’s fine, I’ll take point,” Ford replies coolly.
Wes’ brows shoot up. “You?”
“Sure, why not,” Ford shrugs, mouth spreading into a wolfish grin. “It’s not rocket science. If you can do it, then I definitely can.”
“Sure,” Wes grumbles. “As long as none of it falls back on me, then have at it.”
“It won’t,” Ford promises, already typing something on his phone with rapid-fire thumbs.
A beat of silence falls over the table. I shift uncomfortably, still feeling a million eyes on us. “Do I have to go to this party?” I ask, already knowing– and dreading– the answer.
Ford looks up, hazel eyes glinting. “Of course you do.”
“But I have so much to catch up on,” I whine, thinking of the mountain of reading I still haven’t tackled. “I missed a full week. I’ll fail if I don’t–”
“I can help you study,” Wes offers, sliding his hand onto my thigh and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Ford snorts, not bothering to hide his contempt. “Cute that you guys actually study,” he remarks.
With the way he’s annoying me today, I decide not to brush Wes’ hand off this time. I lean into his side just enough to make a point, batting my lashes at him. Wes grins, triumphant, and I can feel Ford’s eyes narrow at the move.
For a split second, I consider kissing Wes again just to see Ford’s reaction. The thought of it makes me giddy in a way that feels dangerous. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or the stress, or the bitterness rotting away at my insides, but I want to see the mighty Christian Ford lose his shit. Just once.
So, I play with fire. I turn and look up at Wes again, wetting my lips with my tongue. “You’d help me study?” I ask, pitching my voice just shy of a purr.
