all of him is glorious, and it pisses me off that I don’t have the entire mental picture of him naked. The same one he has of me.
“Because you’re the cool kids’ puppet? Because you think you’re some bullshit queen bee who has to shove her nose into shit? Because I hate your—”
I crash my lips on his with a furious kiss that shuts him up. I know I’m a chicken shit and just don’t want to hear the truth. What surprises me is that he relents. His hands cup my face, and his lips mold with mine. I don’t understand any of this. I don’t kiss boys I hardly know. I don’t even kiss boys I do know. Kissing is a huge deal for me. Yet Penn is not exactly a stranger. It’s as though I carried him the entire time he was gone in that sea glass necklace, and now that he took it from me, the only way to satisfy this craving is with his attention.
His stares. His wrath. His lips.
“My dad is going to kill you.” I grin into his mouth, and his tongue wrestles its way between my lips again.
“You can’t put cream in front of a starving cat and expect it to look the other way.”
His breath is ragged, and his hands are big and callused, rough and warm and familiar. His fingers trace my face and neck and hair, tugging it back to arch my neck, and he sucks on the spot beneath my jaw until I yelp as he marks me. Joy explodes in my chest. Penn’s taste in my mouth is heaven. Sweet and dangerous, like a man. I taste cut grass and the California sunshine and a bit of sweat and toothpaste and heat. Our tongues are dancing together. I’m no longer sure if I’m sad or happy, but whatever I am—I’m feeling it. I’m living it. I’m alive.
His erection presses against my stomach, and I’m beginning to grind myself against it when reality trickles into my brain. I hear the whine of the door as it opens. At first, I think a teammate must’ve walked in on us, but when Penn plasters himself against me, covering my semi-naked body, and I find myself chasing his touch with my hips and lips, I realize he doesn’t want to make out with me—he is shielding me.
I blink, desperately trying to sober up.
“…much explaining to do.” A metallic voice seeps into the room like chemical warfare, causing my eyes to pop open.
Oh, Marx.
When I twist my head, I see Principal Prichard standing in the doorway, filling it with his intimidating frame. He is alone, but I’d rather the entire school watch me making out with Las Juntas Bulldogs captain than him. Penn steps in front of me and tilts his body fully toward Principal Prichard so I’m still covered. Instead of apologizing or explaining himself, he rummages in his back pocket for gum, unwraps it, and tosses it into his mouth. The wrapper falls to the floor.
I think he just unlocked a badass level I’ve only seen Vaughn and Knight ever reach.
“Principal Prichard.” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. He stares at my face behind Penn with raw anger that makes my cheeks burn. I shouldn’t feel like a cheater—Prichard and I are not like that—but something about the scene feels wrong. Disloyal.
“Penn Scully.” He clucks his tongue. “When I invited you to join our team, I meant the football one, not cheer, and I definitely did not count on you taking a tour in our facilities unannounced.”
“Should’ve clarified.” Penn pops his gum, running his fingers through his hair.
“Step away from Miss Followhill.”
“Not before you look the other way,” Penn shoots back.
To my shock, Principal Prichard averts his gaze to the lockers on the other side. Mr. Prichard doesn’t do nice very well, so I need to fix this. Fast.
“This one’s on me.” I jump in front of Penn before he has the chance to escalate the situation any further. “I dragged him here. It was my idea.”
They both stare at me, stunned. I don’t mind taking the fall for this since my reputation is already toast with Principal Prichard, what with the way I let him use me. Plus, I genuinely feel crappy about what happened with Via.
I want to atone for what I did to Penn’s sister. I’m not a monster.
“He’s here because he wanted to come here. He has full motor control of his two legs,” Mr.