Page 55 of Made for Cyn

“Hey,” I mutter, staring at the table.

Jig’s willingness to speak to me now that Cyn has given his approval rankles, and I refuse to acknowledge him because if I do, eventually my feelings will be hurt again. Inevitably, this—whatever it is we’re doing here—will come to an end, and I’ll be right back at the table where Iris is currently sitting, shooting daggers in my direction.

“Aw, you pouting?” he teases, but I ignore him, all of them, and sit stiffly in Cyn’s lap.

But Cyn isn’t having it and pulls my chin around to ask gruffly, “What’s wrong?”

Staring at his chin, I mumble, “What are you doing?”

His hand on my chin tightens. “Isn’t this what you wanted? It’s you and me, right? You should be here with me.”

“So, I’m on hand?” I ask dryly.

His eyes spark with fire, and I shiver before turning away because this isn’t how it should be, none of it, and my soul hurts.

“Change your mind?”

With a lackluster smile, I turn to him. “Did you?”

“No beauty, I’m already thinking about the next time I’m inside of you.”

Holy shit. My core spasms painfully, and hoping to hide my reaction, I look away, but he grabs my chin once more and looks at me with wicked eyes. “I’m still thinking about that sweet, tight, pus—”

Slamming my hand over his lips, I narrow my eyes when I feel his lips curve before hissing, “Enough.”

He bites my palm, and I gasp, staring at him in surprise because I never expected such a playful gesture, and it makes my heart warm. But no, I can’t do this. I have to keep my distance. It’s just sex.

Yeah, right.

Turning away from him, I wince and adjust myself, a thrill rushing through me when he groans. Just when I’m relaxing as much as I can with half the student body staring at me, he whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry, beauty, I won’t let a little thing like shark week get in my way.”

???

After an agonizing lunch where everyone chatted around me, and I pretended it was normal, I escape to the gym only to realize a new horror. I really have started my period, and the flow is so heavy I’ve made a mess of myself.

“Shit,” I curse, wishing the universe would throw me a fucking bone. With a weary sigh, I clean myself up but damn my life as waves of pain start to curl through my system. And closing my eyes in dread, I pray, please don’t let this be a bad one.

After, I join the others outside a few minutes late and stop at the end of the line, frowning when Jig steps up beside me with a happy grin. His goddamn mood swings are giving me whiplash, and I’m tired of it, which is why I turn my head away and clench my jaw, biting back a whimper when another cramp overtakes me.

Nausea begins to roil through my stomach, and I clamp my lips tightly in the hopes the fucking subliminal message will reach my brain. I do not want to puke at school.

“Aw, c’mon Lil’ B, don’t be like that,” Jig says, his bright blue eyes teasing.

“Like what?” I mutter.

“I mean, you’re acting a little bitchy.”

Swinging toward him, I narrow my eyes and hiss as he steps back from me with a wary expression, “Bitchy? You’re not my friend. For all I know, you’re only watching me for Cyn. Forgive me for not pretending.”

His eyes blank out, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “Man, you really are on the rag.”

With a squeak of rage, I stomp away, and he doesn’t follow, thankfully, but soon I’m trapped in a new circle of hell when we run laps, and my backside burns brutally while my uterus proclaims war.

I’m close to breaking down in tears and practically limping when Rand appears beside me with an evil grin and tugs on my sweatshirt, wrapped around my waist because—tiny shorts and period.

Falling to my knees, I wrestle with him, to no avail, and he tosses the sweatshirt aside with a smirk as I sit on the ground, panting.

Several of my classmates chuckle around me and Jig calls out, “What’s the matter, Rain? Shark week can be a real bitch, yeah? You got cramps or something?”

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