The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy, #1)(25)

HUNTER: Hey, I’m a freakin realist. You owe a guy a favor? It’s gonna involve sex somehow

ME: Well then I’m not doing it. They can ban me from whatever games they want

HUNTER: You sure? They’re all fine as hell

She knows that because she threatened me with death if I didn’t send her pictures of all of them.

ME: That I don’t want to be coerced into giving them all blowjobs? Yeah, pretty sure

HUNTER: You’re no fun

ME: No, I’m just not a porn star, thanks

HUNTER: ….

She’s still typing out a message when someone bumps into me from behind, making the liquid in my cup slosh over the side.

“Oops, sorry.”

A guy with short brown hair whose name I don’t know puts out a hand to steady me. Or tries to. He’s wobbly on his feet, and he ends up clinging to me for support.

“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” I pry his fingers from my arm with one hand, trying not to spill any more of my drink.

“All right, little buddy. Let’s leave the nice lady alone.” Trent chuckles as he comes up behind the boy, taking his shoulders and turning him away before giving him a little push. The guy stumbles slightly and then weaves away, and Trent grins at me.

“Um, thanks,” I mutter.

I don’t really know what to say. It’s not like he rescued me, exactly, but the way he’s looking at me makes it clear he sure thinks he did.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl like you.”

Uh, what?

I don’t really like Trent, although I don’t specifically dislike him either. But we barely ever interact, and he’s never hit on me like this before. He’s a good looking guy, I guess. His bright blue eyes are set a little close together, which skews the proportions of his face, but he’s got the classic blond-haired, tall, strapping thing going on that girls seem to love.

I’m not interested though. He’s nowhere near as good-looking as Lincoln and his friends—not that I’m interested in any of them either.

“I saw you in the stands tonight,” he continues, stepping a little closer to me as a pack of girls moves through the kitchen behind him. “I’m glad you finally came to a game. What’d you think?”

“It was cool. Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks.” He grins again, and his gaze heats as he rakes it up and down my body. “Maybe you were my lucky charm.”

I roll my eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Well, you’ll have to come to all my games now, just in case.” He steps a little closer, brushing the knuckles of one hand down my arm.

“Yeah, I probably can’t,” I say, taking a small step back. “I work a lot when I’m not at school. You know, I’m one of the Black family’s housekeepers.”

I figure that might turn him off without me having to outright reject him. Everyone here is so obsessed with status, I can’t imagine he’d want to get caught hitting on the help. But he just bites his lip, leaning in as he speaks.

“Maybe sometime I could see your little uniform.”

Ew. Gross. Okay, I was trying to be nice about this, but fuck that.

“I don’t think so,” I say curtly.

Then I push past him and walk out of the kitchen—only to run smack into Savannah. I yelp as my drink sloshes in the cup, but I manage not to spill anything this time.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, skank?” she hisses.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Not that.” Her eyes are slits. “Were you fucking hitting on Trent Calloway? Don’t you know he’s off the market?”

My eyebrows drift up. “Oh, is he? Did Iris finally make her move?”

Her lips pinch together, and her nostrils flare. That was a low blow, but I think she deserved it. I know she and Iris are still fighting over him, though I don’t think that claim has been settled yet.

“No!” she whispers loudly. “That’s not—she hasn’t—” She lets out an annoyed breath. “He’s off the market to poor skanks! That means you.”

“Yeah, well that’s fine by me. I’m not interested anyway. I hope the three of you have a long and happy life together.”

She gapes at me, blinking rapidly. “What are you talking about? That’s—I’m not going to share him!”

I smirk. “Why not? You both want him so bad. Why all the fighting? I’m sure he’s got more than enough beefcake to go around.”

“You’re disgusting.” Her lip curls. “Although it doesn’t surprise me a slut like you would come up with an idea like that.”

I got under her skin, I can tell. But she’s getting under mine too. Being called shit like “pool girl” and “the help” bugs me, but nowhere near as much as being slut-shamed. I lost my virginity when I was fifteen, a few years after I realized I was actually going to live to see my twenties and beyond. And I like sex. As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of the highlights of being alive.

What I don’t like is people who use it as a weapon or a tool to get what they want, and that’s what Savannah and Iris seem to be all about. Their whole feud over Trent isn’t about him as a person, it’s about which one of them lands the star football player.