Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,80
based on something as simple as the color they’re painting their fingers during our relocation from her apartment to the most popular eatery on campus. She gives me minimal details, insisting it’s too new and that spilling the tea this early on would probably ruin it; however, she promises if they make it another couple of weeks, she’ll share everything, including his impressive dick size. Her lack of giving me substantial information doesn’t stop her from asking for a bit of fashion advice regarding the upscale places Mr. Mystery prefers to go.
I open the door for us to enter Venom. “Easiest thing to remember is to make sure you match. Either the two Cs or the two Ss.”
Her face gawks on for more information.
“Cute and Classy or Subtle and Sassy. Basics.”
“No, a relevé is basic. What you just said is more a Sous-sus.”
A light laugh manages to escape just as we join the ridiculously long line.
Betty needlessly whines out her annoyance, “God, did everyone have the same idea we did?”
“Looks like it,” I playfully reply while glancing around the packed place. “Real talk. Why does it feel like everyone who goes to school here is in this fucking building? Did we miss a memo or some shit?” The teasing has us both snickering, yet mine abruptly stops at the two eye-bulging sights. “Why are my ex and my current both here?”
Her gaze swiftly glides over to where mine is lingering.
Jevin and a couple of his basketball friends are obnoxiously laughing in one back corner with the second coming of the Kardashians fawning over them, while Hugo and Leif are exchanging smirks in the other. The words he taunted me with earlier start a haunting hum in my ears that, unfortunately, only grow louder when he cuts me a glance. His almost villainous grin is impossible to ignore much like my best friend’s purrs of approval.
“The real question is, who is that sexy, second coming of Heath Ledger your man is sitting with, twinkle toes.”
I take a step forward in the line and dart my attention over to Hugo’s table. “He looks nothing like Heath Ledger.”
“Excuse you,” Betty playful sasses, “which one of us has seen A Knight’s Tale so many times she could quote the shit in her sleep?”
There’s no stopping my head from whipping her direction to showcase my bafflement.
“What?! You know I have a weakness for blond Aussies. Do I, or do I not, own every Chris Hemsworth movie available for purchase?”
I roll my eyes back over to the unsettling sight. “That, my friend, is more of a Hemsworthless than anything close to the Aussie god we both share a fondness for.” My arms fold themselves across my chest, stare still studying their uncomfortably close proximity. “His name is Leif.”
“And, why is that Leif sharing a table with your tree?”
“They’re project partners…”
Leif lets his head fall back on a loud laugh that Hugo openly devours.
His relaxed shoulders, slightly tilted head, and focused stare all indicate he’s completely into whatever it is they’re talking about.
Or, flirting about.
Jevin’s earlier accusations walk the catwalk of my veins in an encore nature, once more propelling me to act on them.
To investigate if he’s right, regardless of my emotional director screaming that he’s wrong.
“Crash,” Betty’s voice sounds faint as I weave around the tables to get to my boyfriend. “Uh…Crash?”
My abrupt arrival barely interrupts whatever has them sharing laughs. “And, what’s so funny over here?”
Hugo’s happy expression remains despite seeing the displeasure in mine.
Really?
He can’t even look guilty about openly flirting with someone else for the whole fucking world to see? Why doesn’t he look ashamed? Why doesn’t he look like he regrets accepting advances from someone who is not his boyfriend?
Fuck, why does it feel like he’s not even acting like he has a boyfriend.
“Could it possibly be over the fact that you were too busy this morning to have breakfast with me but managed to find time to have lunch with this La vie boheme wanna be?”
Hugo’s expression immediately shifts to an unhappy one at the accusation.
Leif joyfully starts, “We were actually talking about-”
“Do I look like any part of me really gives a fuck about that?” The bite his direction swiftly shuts his mouth. “What I do give a fuck about,” my voice grows slightly louder, “is how I was kicked out of your apartment this morning like I was a fucking Skin who had slithered onto your doorstep at the wrong fucking time of day.”
My boyfriend calmly leans back