Page 16 of Made for Cyn

He’s slight, with thin shoulders, big ears, and glasses so thick they make his blue eyes appear extra round.

“Can we talk about anything else?” he grumbles, going back to his sandwich.

Iris eases in her seat, looking away as the boy smiles at me. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Hello,” I murmur with a small smile.

Oscar seems nice enough, but I’m on the fence about Natasha, especially with her cruel words toward Iris, despite her own interest.

And now, it’s not just Iris who has warned me away, but Natasha too. I know I have to fight my attraction to Cyn even as I glance his way, unable to resist his magnetic pull.

With what feels like a punch to the chest, I watch Cyn suck face with some chick, her eyes closed in bliss as she clutches his strong arms like a lifeline.

Dropping my gaze, I turn back to my lackluster lunch glumly, vowing to forget the gorgeous jerk because he’s clearly not hung up on me.

???

I have PE for the first time in my life, and while I’m certainly physically fit from working in our small compound, I know nothing about sports of any kind. Our homeschooling did not include such activities. More often than not, we did a series of exercises that half of us hated, and the women who taught us looked the other way when we completed them halfheartedly.

Slightly uncomfortable in the shortest shorts I’ve ever worn, where I swear, I can feel a breeze on my cheeks, and a school-issued T-shirt, I emerge into the sunshine. With a weird mixture of excitement and terror, I stand next to my peers, many of whom continue to ignore me but for the occasional curious stare.

Yesterday we watched a video and filled out paperwork, but today the two genders are merged, and I see to my dismay that both Rand and Jig are in this class with me.

Rand’s eyes are cool, although he looks me over greedily, and with a shiver of disgust, I narrow my eyes in displeasure. He merely smirks before turning away.

Dick.

“Little Bit,” Jig says, appearing behind me and wrapping his arm around my neck playfully. “This class is looking better and better.”

I attempt to shrug him off but it’s a futile effort. “Oh?” I mutter.

“Yep, you have a mighty fine ass. I’m an ass man myself, and I love me some juicy booty.”

Choking on my own spit, I say, “What?”

“You know.” He winks. “So, now it’s just you and me, you can tell me all about the orgies.”

To be clear, I don’t know, but the new topic sends a burn through my cheeks as I lose track of everything and mutter, “There was no group sex.”

“Aww, c’mon, a buncha horny teens in the middle of nowhere? No way.”

“Jig, there were ten kids. Ten. And half of them were practically babies,” I say in exasperation.

“So, what about the other half?” he says, waggling his brows.

Rolling my eyes, I step away, flushing once more when he says, “Mm.”

Glancing back, I confirm he’s eyeing my ass, and I sigh to the heavens. Jig may be hot in his own right, with bright blue eyes that match the hue of his hair, lush lips, and a broad chest, but he doesn’t make my extremities tingle. Maybe, if I hadn’t seen Cyn first, I might be lusting after him as many of the girls in this class are, casting him furtive glances when they think he’s not looking, but I’ll never know now.

I also suspect, despite Jig’s playful persona and perpetual grin, which disconcerts me to no end, that he sees more than he lets on, and there’s a darkness lurking beneath to rival Cyn’s.

We’re rounded up into teams for flag football in which Jig, as team captain, picks me first. Reluctantly, I join him with the distinct feeling that he’s sending a message—but what?

Because I’ve never played this game, I watch helplessly as the others attach belts with flags of vibrant colors connected by Velcro to their waists. For a moment, I stare as the little banners flap in the wind before I emulate my teammates’ actions.

We gather back into a group and Jig barks out orders with bright eyes, his pleasure with the game evident. Unfortunately, I have no idea what he’s saying and stare at him dumbly before we break for the first play, where I stand uselessly as the others run circles around me.

Jig gives me a curious look but ignores me as he tosses the ball, and it’s clear to see it’s an extension of his arm when it sails through the air and lands in the hands of our teammate, who races down the grass and throws the ball to the ground in what I presume to be a victory dance.

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