Page 248 of Satan's Spawn
She squeals before bringing her lips to mine again, this time harder, and I take it upon myself to kiss her deeper.
“Crisis averted,” she mumbles, and I can feel her smile on my lips.
“But not the punishment.”
Rebecca pulls on my bottom lip, letting me know she has no intentions of arguing her fate, then slides down my body to return to the floor.
I step back and she winks, reaching out for me to hold her hand.
Saint can barely hold back his smirk as I spot him in my peripheral, nudging me with his chin to go ahead. To prove his point.
That I’ve become a sucker for Rebecca.
Maybe he’s right, I’m flirting with the lines of being her bitch. But I sure as shit am not for him.
And I’ll make sure to kick his hypocritical ass to prove it.
Ringing our fingers together, I take off with Rebecca falling in stride, Hendrix and Archer following to her right and Saint to my left.
Wandering eyes are on us from every direction, mostly because of Rebecca’s new look and the crew’s slow shifting dynamic. Then when Riggs and Levi exit one of the classrooms, we’re spread into a single royal line.
But this time there’s a new queen at the center of it, and she’s got her head up fucking high.
39
BEX
The sun is blazing today, officially diagnosing winter in this city as bipolar.
Fifty-four degrees.
In January.
I shouldn’t be complaining, but I am, because I was actually starting to warm up to the cold weather.
“Don’t get too used to it,” Hendrix chirps next to me on the bleachers as I shrug off my coat. “Chances are tomorrow it’ll be back in the twenties.”
“Big facts, yo,” Archer chimes in next, tossing a piece of gum in his mouth.
Placing the coat onto the seat next to me, we go back to watching the guys toss a football back and forth on the field.
The school day ended an hour ago, and the majority of students, besides the stragglers walking around the track, have either gone off campus to soak up the warm Friday by the piers, or went home to see their families.
It’s been about twenty minutes of measuring dicks with spiral throws, and Crayton’s already had enough of entertaining his athletic friends. I know this because he launches the ball at Riggs, bulls-eyeing the back of his head.
The three of us laugh as Riggs curses him out, rubbing the assaulted area.
Crayton ignores him, stomping his way up to the middle of the bleachers where we’re sitting.
“That was harsh, don’t you think?” I lift an eyebrow when he straddles the seat next to me, pulling me into his chest.
“Motherfucker doesn’t know when to stop talking.” He mutters, reaching for the pack of cigarettes stuffed inside his boot, bringing one to his mouth.
“What was he saying to earn damage to his already defective brain?” Archer chuckles.
I crane my neck to find that typical twitch in Crayton’s eye, telling me everything I need to know.
Mejokes.
