Page 61 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

“Someone with a death wish, if you ask me,” Jimmie adds, rolling his eyes.

I stare at the stranger, who leans over the shrub wall, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. If Laughn were here, this guy wouldn’t be standing there. He would be quickly thrown over the ledge and into the shrubs.

Sinclair, Jimmie, Joshua, and Danika talk between themselves, but I can’t shake the eerie feeling that I know this guy. He must feel me looking and locks eyes with me for a few moments, neither of us looking away. Until Chelsea and her buddies walk over to him, then he turns his attention to her and gives her a once-over. I watch as he dismisses her with his body language, not that it deters her. She flicks her hair over her shoulder as her other perfectly manicured hand runs down his arm. She then tosses her head back while pushing her cleavage forward and laughs at whatever he just said. She knows the Gods have zero interest in her, so she’s already moving to get her claws into the new guy; it’s extremely humorous to watch.

He looks over at me again and smiles. Chelsea notices and her face puckers like a cat’s asshole. Nowthatmakes me smile—anything to annoy that bitch works just fine for me.

“He keeps looking at you,” Sinclair whispers.

“You know he can’t hear you, right?” Joshua remarks, causing Danika to laugh.

“Of course, I know that. But he’s looking this way again.”

“It’s because Jolie is a magnet that attracts hot guys,” Danika insists, staring at the new guy with no shame.

“Are we complaining about that? Because I’m certainly not,” Jimmie adds before taking a huge bite out of his banana.

“I have a few issues with this,” I interject. “When Boston finds out, we will butt heads about it. And now I’m back on Chelsea’s radar, and by extension, so are you guys, so don’t let her corner you.”

“If you ask me, he looks like trouble. What is with that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look? And is he wearing chucks?”

Joshua keeps going on about the guy’s messy uniform, and I nod along in agreement. I mean, good for him if he thinks he will get away with it, but the jokes on him when he gets sent to the home economics building to have it steamed out. Rich people are allergic to wrinkles on both clothes and skin.

“Do you think they have botox for clothes?” I wonder aloud, and everyone looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“It’s called starch,” Sinclair says. We all look at her. “What? Not all of us have maids twenty-four seven to do our washing.”

Jimmie gasps, his dramatic flair shining strong. “Are you having money problems?”

“No,” she snaps defensively, like being poor is the worst thing in the world. “When my parents go away, I like to have the house to myself.”

“And you have never had a house party. I don’t even know how we are friends,” Danika jokes. Even though we know she would organise and throw a party in a second if Sinclair gave her the go ahead.

I look back at the new guy. He runs a hand through his hair, and his school shirt rides up, showing off his abs. I shake my head and turn my attention back to my friends. If this guy has set his sights on me, there will be a few guys back tomorrow with something to say about it. Which could be fun to use against Boston since he thinks he bloody owns me... but is risking the poor guy’s life worth it if Laughn gets upset?

I can’t lie—while I’m confused and pissed about what Summer told me, the thought of Laughn going feral turns me on. It’s not my fault my libido is a sucker for him.

The bell for form rings and we all head towards the building.

My classroom feels empty without the guys. As I move to take a seat, the teacher looks up and motions for me to come to the front of the class.

“Yes?” I ask.

“The principal wants to speak to you.”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head to the office. When I arrive, the administration lady gives me a look that says she isn’t pleased to see me. “You can go straight in.”

I walk down past her desk and to the principal’s office, and don’t bother knocking since the door is open.

“Jolie, thank you for coming. Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, curious why I would get called to his office, especially on a day when none of the guys are here.

“No, nothing like that. We have a new student today and I need you to show him around,” he says, not looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

“Okay, why me? I’m sure Sinclair is better at being nice.”

“For this particular student, I feel you would be better suited.”

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