All the Lies (Lies & Truths Duet #1)(21)

“Rei-Rei.” His grin turns into a wicked one as he drapes an arm around my shoulder. “I thought you were going to be a zombie for a bit more.”

“And I thought you’d stop being a pig by now.”

“Define pig.” He waggles an eyebrow. “Because if it means a lot of meat, then I do have that, babe.”

“Eww. Gross.”

His brows furrow and he pauses for a second. “You realize you just said that out loud, right?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“Usually, I know you think it, but you never voice it.”

“New person, new rules.” I jab his hard, muscled side. “Pig.”

He laughs. “Well, shit. Looks like we got a new Rei-Rei in da house. You going to talk back to everything?”

“If you’re being a little shit, why shouldn’t I speak my mind?”

“Because you don’t?” He waves two fingers in front of my face. “You usually have a blank robotic thing going on here.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Don’t fucking care.” He lifts a shoulder. “Now, about that BJ you promised me…”

“In your dreams, dude.”

“Dude?” He stops, watching me closely.

Asher had a similar reaction when I called him that earlier.

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, unsure what the hell their problem is.

“You don’t call me dude, Rei-Rei. Were you hit badly in the head?” He lifts a hand before I can form a response. “Don’t answer. I don’t care. I’m more interested in the BJ.”

“I told you it’s not happening, dude.”

“Fine.” He feigns a breath of resignation. “I’ll settle for a lap dance.”

“Hard pass.”

His shoulders shake with laughter that somehow seems genuine compared to all the fakery I’ve seen since this morning.

“What was my reply when you asked me for blowjobs before?” I ask.

“You agreed, of course.”

I narrow my eyes. For some reason, that doesn’t ring true. “Don’t lie to me.”

“You really agreed.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Didn’t mean you did, though.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Beats me.”

“What does…” I clear my throat. “How does Asher react to that? You’re supposed to be his friend.”

“Come on, of course he knows they don’t happen. Otherwise, he would’ve been after my ass.”

“And he’s okay with the joking?”

“Meh. I thought so until he threatened me not to joke with you about BJs the other day.” Owen shakes his head. “Weird son of a bitch.”

Hmm. That’s interesting.

We continue walking for a while. Deep down, I’m thankful for his presence. I would’ve felt utterly out of my element if Owen weren’t by my side.

“What position do you play on the Devils?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow as if he didn’t expect me to ask that question. “Wide receiver.”

“What about Sebastian?”

“Quarterback.”

“Are you hoping to get drafted into the NFL?”

“What’s with all these depressing questions first thing in the morning? You never gave two shits about us before.”

“Oh.”

I’m the head cheerleader so I figured both our teams were one. After all, the cheerleading squad exists for the sake of the football team, no?

“I’m sorry.” I meet Owen’s brown gaze.

He stops in his tracks, and I’m forced to stop, too. “What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t care before.”

He points a finger at me. “Who are you and what have you done with my bitchy Rei-Rei?”

Before I can answer that, a group of beautiful girls in cheerleading uniforms storm in our direction with Bree at the front. They pluck me away from Owen and surround me in one shallow hug after another.

They say things like they missed me and the team isn’t the same without me. However, just like when the other students greeted me, I can sense a wicked undertone. If I’m being honest, some of the girls even appear sad I’ve returned.

Ouch. That stings.

At this rate, I’ll end up with figurative needles all over my heart.

“Oh my Gosh, Reina”—Bree points at my shoes—“where did you get those vintage flats? Aren’t they like five years out of fashion?”

I stare down at them, frowning. They’re kind of cute. I mean, even the resident asshole, Asher, looked at them with amusement.

“They’re back in style. Keep up, Bee,” a girl on my right says in a bored tone.

She’s wearing the cheerleading uniform and black-framed glasses that hide her Asian eyes. Black strands fall on either side of her face in slick lines like some anime character or a cosplay.

Now that I think about it, she’s the only one who didn’t hug me just now.

“It’s Bree, not Bee,” my supposed best friend bites out. “As if you’d ever know anything about fashion, Naomi.”