Charming Devils - Katie May Page 0,52

“But sure. You can use the bathroom.” She slides her bra off as she reaches for the top of her cheerleading uniform, and I feel another pang of that dreaded self-consciousness she mentioned as I stare at her breasts. Mine are big, a size D, but hers are so fucking perky and perfect, it’s just not fair. They’re literally a perfect pair of breasts, and the sudden image of Karsyn leaning forward to kiss one of her rosy pink nipples pops in my head.

And I want to fucking gag.

I tell myself it’s because Mariabella is my friend and Karsyn is a trashy human being. That I hate Karsyn with a passion capable of setting this world on fire. I tell myself that until I’m blue in the face, but I’m not sure if I believe it.

“Peony?” Mariabella asks with amusement, and I realize that I’m staring at her boobs like some sort of creeper. This time, it’s my cheeks that turn crimson as I all but run into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

I need to get over this…this infatuation I have with Karsyn Alder. It makes no logical sense whatsoever. But then again, my reaction towards all of the Devils doesn’t make a lick of sense. I should hate them—and I do—but my body wants them in a primal, carnal way.

My hands clench into fists as I take a deep, fortifying breath.

I’ll get over this…whatever this is. And then, I’ll destroy the charming Devils once and for all.

We have to arrive at the high school at five-thirty PM for check-in, despite the game not starting until seven. We leave the locker room as a team, walking the paved pathway until we reach the stadium.

Like everything else at the high school, it’s rich and superficial, with a parking lot easily able to hold five hundred cars. The stadium has four concession stands, two on either side, and the football field itself consists of artificial green grass. When we arrive on the track field, a level below the bleachers, I’m shocked by the crowd already in the stands. It seems that football is a popular sport here.

As the rest of the girls huddle together around Helen, I allow my eyes to drift over the assembled students and parents. Almost all are wearing our school’s colors and waving ridiculous flags around their heads as they cheer for a team that hasn’t even arrived on the field yet. Seriously, who comes to a high school football game two hours early? These people do, apparently.

My gaze lands on Lucas sitting in the center of the bleachers, his eyes intent on me. It feels as if he’s put me between two panes of glass and is studying me beneath a microscope. I feel naked and vulnerable and, honestly, a little frightened. I can’t help but think that he’s here for a specific reason—to destroy me.

Girls surround him, each one more beautiful than the last, but he doesn’t pay them any attention, despite their repeated attempts to claim it. His eyes remain fixed on me. Only me. That ice-blue gaze almost feels searingly hot, and the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me.

Cassian sits a few bleachers away from him, hands curled into fists and looking unbelievably sexy in his leather jacket. Back in middle school, he always wore Ray-Bans and skinny jeans—whatever was in style at High Groves Middle School. But just now, he looks like a rocker bad boy with his buzzed black hair, dark skin, and penetrating gaze.

And two rows behind him is none other than the teacher slut herself. Mrs. Town is cuddled into the side of a thirty-something-year-old man who looks to be the size of a NFL linebacker. Despite her attractive husband, Cassian’s broad back holds her gaze, as if she’s wishing for him to fuck her even now, in direct view of her oblivious husband. A husband who’s currently smiling at her as if she holds the moon and stars in her tiny, cheating hands.

With a wicked grin pulling up my lips, I glance pointedly from Cassian, to Mrs. Town, and then back to Cassian. When his eyes narrow, hands balling into even tighter fists on his dark blue jeans, I wink. And I swear something akin to heat flares to life in his eyes, and he stares at me like Mrs. Town stares at him—as if he wishes to devour me whole.

“He never comes to games!” A hushed whisper rips my attention away from Cassian and towards

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