"Oh right, I guess I forgot. Sorry," he said to his tray.
My stomach dropped at the information and a pang of jealousy clawed at my insides.
Instantly her features softened, and she pried her way onto his lap. She put one arm around his neck and pressed her fake chest into his face. "It's okay, baby, you can make it up to me later.”
"Actually," he said as he stood, dumping her off his lap in the process. "I'm busy. I'll let you know when I'm available next." He yanked his tray from the table and dumped the entire thing in the trash can. He turned and stalked out of the cafeteria without saying another word.
Kendra looked around, mortified by being blown off again. She quickly recovered and went to a table filled with other girls who looked like her.
"Bro..." said Cade.
"What the fuck is he thinking?" Asked Bronx.
"He's going through some shit. That girl is annoying as hell. I mean, yeah, she could suck a golf ball through a hose, but there are plenty more where that came from."
Gabby stiffened next to me and started to collect her things. Cade’s fuckboy ways were grinding on her, and it was hard for her to be around him when he was shit-talking with the guys.
"We better get going," she said before walking over to the trash cans.
"I'll see you guys later," I smiled before going to collect my friend.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked as I caught up to Gabby.
She stayed silent as we pushed through the cafeteria door and headed to the bathrooms. "I'm fine, Ash. I hate hearing that shit from him.Whydo I have to like him?"
"We can't help who we like, Gabby. We just do. I'm sorry he's such a fuckboy though. I know the feeling and it sucks.”
We went into the bathrooms which, thankfully, were empty. "Easy for you to say. West likes you. Cade just sees me as a potential conquest."
I stopped and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "You're joking, right? West doesn't even want me sitting with them at lunch. Did you see how twitchy he was when he sat down? And don’t forget how he treated me after we fucked two years ago."
"Because he doesn't want to admit to himself that he likes you. He pushes you hoping you’ll go away so he doesn’t have to confront his feelings. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He likes you and you like him. End of story. Why else would he shoot Kendra down in front of everyone?"
Gabby tended to be overly observant–one of her skills that she sometimes used on me, much to my dismay.
"I think you missed the part where he asked her to meet him in the locker rooms. And Ido notlike West. He's a fucking asshole!"
"You like that about him. That's why you turn down every nice guy that asks you out. You like jerks and nice guys bore you. It's okay to admit it, Ash. I'm just as bad. I like a guy whose number reads more like a phone number. I'm not judging.”
I knew she wasn't, but me liking West was utter insanity. Would I jump in bed with him again? Yes. I'm only human. And the fact that wehadbeen together already made my body tremble. I’d been there and done that. We were both inexperienced, yet that night meant something to me. He wasn’t like normal West. He was caring, thoughtful. He wanted to make me feel good. And he did.
But that's where the interest stopped. Being physically attracted to someone didn't mean anything. Nothing at all.
10
West
Iwassurethatshe would sit in her assigned seat. Imagine my surprise when I walked through the door to art class and saw Ashtyn with her chair moved to the end of our table.
In each spot was an easel with canvas, and Ashtyn was already drawing something on hers. She pushed the stool under the table so she could stand to sketch out her idea.
Her shorts and top were fucking criminal. I had a hard time believing she wasn’t breaking any dress codes with her outfit, but if so, it appeared no one complained. Reynolds certainly wouldn’t be sending her to the office over it. The bastard was probably drooling a puddle over the sight.
“Once everyone gets to their seats we can begin today’s assignment,” Reynolds said. He was wearing an argyle sweater vest—shocker—this time in an ugly olive color, along with a beige button-up shirt and khaki pants. He decided to spice it up with a green bowtie.
He was talking about me because I was the only one standing–late from my last class–apart from Ashtyn, who didn’t even look at me as I took my seat. She continued to sketch, erase, and sketch as Reynolds rambled on about our painting assignment.
He wanted us to paint something that represented us or a moment in time that held importance. It could be a scenic painting, an object, a memory. Whatever. Once we were done, we were to present our painting to our table and give a backstory on why we chose it. Were we in art class or the sharing circle at an insane asylum?