The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(65)

“Yeah, Jake loves Jake like Kanye loves Kanye. He is cute, though.”

Planting her hands on top of the table, leaning toward me, Kacey dons her ‘do not mess with me' face. “Listen, bitch. If you don't pound that beer, I'm going to walk over there and tell him just how wet he makes your pussy. And then I'm going to tell him that you're still a virgin, and you've been saving yourself for him since fifth grade.”

I glare at her, the skin behind my ears and down the back of my neck beginning to prickle. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Kacey pouts, running her hand over her long, dark hair; it's knife-edge straight and shining like she conditioned it seven times before she came out tonight. As always, she looks incredible in a little black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places and accentuates them in others. There's a reason why she's the most lusted-after girl at Raleigh. “Try me,” she says airily.

I know that look on her face. I've seen it countless times before. Usually before she decides to pull the trigger on a particularly cruel plan designed to embarrass or humiliate one of Raleigh's lesser, mere mortal students. Hastily, I tip back the cup of beer, and I chug. My throat’s stinging from the cold, carbonated liquid when I slam the cup down on the table, gasping for breath. A cheer goes up around me, and Zen appears at my side, winding her arm around my waist. Her hair's braided back into cornrows, bleached blonde with pink tips. Her bubblegum pink dress is almost as revealing as Kacey's.

“Nicely done, Parisi,” she says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting for you.”

Kacey answers the question before I can. “Guitar lesson.” She says the words with the same level of disgust she might say ‘Forever 21 discount rack.’ Kacey’s of the firm belief that an item of clothing isn’t worth shit if it isn’t worth over four hundred dollars. “I don’t get why you don’t just quit doing that, Silly. Your parents give you an allowance, right?”

“Yeah. But I like teaching.” We’ve been through this a thousand times. It would suit Kacey down to the ground if I didn’t have to teach my lessons every night of the week. That way, I’d be able to go over to her place after school and we could hang out, ruthlessly criticizing the cast of The Bold and the Beautiful.

“Whatever. You’re ruining your hands. They look like you do manual labor for a living.”

“They’re callouses, Kacey. I can’t play without them.”

She groans. Zen takes my hand and turns it over, inspecting said callouses. “They feel worse,” she adds disapprovingly.

“Exactly. And how do you think Jacob Weaving’s gonna feel about them when you wrap that grubby little mitt around his cock and you sand his foreskin off? I’ve heard he’s uncut.” She waggles her eyebrows, using her fingers to mimic snipping a pair of scissors. Zen explodes into a fit of scandalized giggles, while I look for the nearest deep hole to go bury myself in.

“You can stop now. I don’t care about Jacob Weaving. I don’t care what he thinks of my calluses, and I’m certainly not gonna be wrapping my hand around his cock any time soon.”

“That’s a shame,” a voice says behind Kacey. The three of us whip around, and the chicken alfredo I ate for dinner suddenly tries to make a reappearance, rising up in my throat.

Jacob.

Standing two feet away.

Holding a glass filled with burned amber liquid.

Arching a blond, perfect eyebrow in my direction.

The amused twist of his mouth says it all.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Parisi,” he says. His head tips back, and he studies me down the bridge of his nose in an appraising fashion that makes me blush down to the roots of my hair.

“O—Oh.” Dear lord, please help me now. Do not let me trip over my own treacherous tongue. I swallow thickly. “Why? Um. What about?”

Kacey tries to hide her smile in the veil of her hair. “God, Silver. How have you managed to make it this far without a scrap of game?” She makes a show of trying to whisper the words, but she makes sure Jacob can hear her.

“I like that about her,” he says, smirking. With a practiced move, he throws back the contents of his glass, savoring it in his mouth, eyes roving over my face. He swallows, and I find I can’t tear my eyes away from the muscles in his throat as they work. “Not everyone can be like you, Winters. Well-practiced and well broken in. Sometimes it’s refreshing to contend with someone a little more…innocent.”

Kacey doesn’t like that. Not one bit. “Yes, well. I’m sure you wouldn’t be saying that when she blows instead of sucks.”

A flush of shame rockets up my spine. Even Zen’s mouth drops open. “Kay Kay!”

Kacey slides her arm through mine, petting my hair. I love my friend to the ends of the earth, but occasionally I also want to punch her in the throat. “Oh, come on. She knows I’m teasing, don’t you, Silly Sil? No one’s stupid enough to make that mistake. You people have no sense of humor.”

Jacob’s eyes drive into the side of Kacey’s head, boring into her, grey and unimpressed. “With friends like you, Kay Kay,” he says, his voice full of mockery, “who needs enemies? Silver? I was gonna head out to the pool for a second. Get some air. You wanna join me?”