Page 98 of Endgame

“I doubt it, considering I don’t even like football,” I made the mistake of saying.

“Are you serious?” Molly squeezed out, wide eyed. “You don’t like football!”

I shrugged. “Not really.” I didn’t understand the game and I didn’t care to learn. Life was short and I didn’t plan on wasting a second of it learning useless facets of information I would never need. “Football. Soccer. Basketball. Lacrosse?” I gestured with my hand. “They’re all the same to me.”

“Omigod,” she spluttered. “What planet did you come from?”

“The real world,” I chimed in between bites of my lunch. “You know, the one where being on the football team won’t pay your bills and being a cheerleader doesn’t put food on the table.”

Molly flinched. “That sounds…terrible.”

I bit back a chuckle. “Not really. I actually sort of miss it.”

She looked at me like I had spoken a foreign language. “Why?”

I sighed, but didn’t bother replying. I loved Molly. She was sweet, good-natured, and my only friend in this town, but she was rich. Just like every other kid at this school, Molly had been born into wealth. She would never understand my feelings, so I didn’t bother voicing them.

“Did you understand a word of what Mr. Trimble said in Trig this morning?” I asked, deftly changing the subject.

“I don’t think Mr. Trimble knows what he’s saying half the time,” Molly shot back, happy to move on to a new subject. “That man is the worst. If I pass Trig this semester, it will be a miracle.”

Content, I listened to Molly as she rambled on and on about the different subjects she was taking for the duration of lunch.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of break, we were deep in conversation, discussing whether or not Miss Black, my biology teacher, was having an affair with Coach Joe.

I didn’t really care if they were banging or not, but I was glad to have something to think about. It helped me to ignore the pair of blue eyes boring into the side of my face.

Yeah, it hadn’t passed my attention that Rourke had never once taken his eyes off me during lunch.

Mercedes

THE COFFEE SHOP WAS, once again, insanely busy after school on Wednesday. Hurrying out back, I dropped off my backpack before pulling my overly long hair into a loose ponytail and slinging my apron on over my uniform.

The after-school rush was in full swing when I took to the floor, taking orders and clearing off dirty tables for awaiting customers.

I had served fifty-six coffees and nineteen iced teas when Rourke walked through the door just before closing that night.

Donning our school’s regulatory grey V-necked sweater and navy slacks, Rourke walked into Madame Jory’s like he owned the place.

The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up, revealing the best pair of forearms I’d ever seen. Like seriously, the corded veins and muscles made me ache. Talk about forearm porn.

Knowing the hands attached to those forearms had touched me in places no one else has, made me feel a little lightheaded.

The moment his eyes landed on my face, my heart slammed against my ribcage and the air thinned around me, making it hard to breathe.

Goddammit…

“Evening, Six,” he acknowledged with an incline of his head. The smile he was wearing did little to calm my frazzled nerves.

“We’re closing,” I blurted out. I was having a hard time trying to get past the last conversation we’d had; the words‘I’m willing to fuck you’still haunting my every waking hour.

“I’m not here for coffee,” Rourke replied with a wink.

“Then what are you here for?”

“You.” He grinned, revealing those deep dimples.

Goddamn…

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