Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,51

Heat, both from exertion and embarrassment, scorches my cheeks.

The shame hits me like an avalanche.

Blinking back sudden tears, I reach for the doorknob, but his hand comes down on mine, stilling me. Bitterly, I think, aren’t we done? How much more humiliation is he going to put me through?

He looks into my watery eyes, reaching up to brush a knuckle along the curve of my cheek. As if in a daze, he softly whispers, “You’re beautiful like this.”

I feel a tear spill over, tracking its way down my cheek. He blinks as it falls, like the tear has shattered his trance.

“You’ve never been uglier,” I reply, taking the opportunity to twist the handle and bolt out of the room.

Three times makes it a pattern.

I’m used to having patterns—or cycles, really. Textbook bipolar. I cycle in and out, looping in this eternal high, low, happy, destructive manner. It’s one of the reasons I don’t do repeats with guys. Once I loop through, I need something more. Different. Better. Which makes my weakness for Heston is particularly confusing. I actually hate him. It should be easy to pass him over for someone else. So why do I keep caving?

It has to be the sex. Maybe it’s just that good. Maybe denying myself for three months has made me weaker, hungrier. It can’t just be about Heston. It’s about how the rubber band doesn’t work anymore. It’s about the stress of senior year, the lack of Devils around to shield me from the mean whispers. It’s about me, just having a difficult time.

That’s what Warren says, at least.

“Hey, Georgia,” Buck calls as I walk into the dining hall for lunch.

“Buck.” I grab a tray and get into line. He follows me. “What’s going on?”

“Just seeing if you’re going to Underworld Saturday night.”

Ugh. The last place I want to go is somewhere else I could possibly run into Heston. He was there once before. Who’s to say he won’t be there again? Despite that, I have to admit that the thought of getting pretty with my girls and dancing this tension away holds some appeal.

“Don’t they card at the door?” They hadn’t carded me, but I’d been on the list.

Buck looks almost offended. “I got someone who can let us in. No worries.”

“Maybe.” I shrug.

He slides closer, snaking an arm around my hips, pinning me in. I inhale his spicy cologne. “Well, if you do, will you save a dance for me?”

I give him a flirty smile but don’t commit. I don’t really enjoy thinking back on that night with Buck. The sex was fine, even if he’d been a bit of a selfish lay. I just wasn’t in a good place. A lot like I am right now.

When I turn and start across the crowded dining hall, I see familiar blue eyes watching me. I skip a step, overcome with a moment of paranoia that he’s taken to stalking to me or something. But then I remember.

Duh, he’s a coach.

This means that he sits with the other faculty to eat lunch. The same coach who I sucked off in the storage room a couple days ago. The coach who fingered me yesterday. The coach who’s fucked me from behi—

“What are you doing?”

I lurch forward, wobbling my tray. I grip it to keep it steady, knowing that my face has probably turned red. Vandy’s gaze shifts from me to Heston, who now seems overly interested in his sandwich and phone.

“Nothing.” I stride toward our table.

Vandy’s voice is cautious, laced with concern. “Sure you weren’t looking at Heston?”

“Who’s looking at Heston?” Caroline asks, her voice way too loud.

“Shhhh!” Vandy and I both peek across the room, but he’s not paying attention. Why would he? It’s not like he can torment me here, in front of everyone. “No one is looking at Heston. Especially me.”

“You mean Heston Wilcox?” Ozzy asks. He drops his bag on the floor and his tray on the table. He’s taken to sitting with us every day, which is something I’ve been pondering. Usually, a guy only sits with three solitary girls because he wants something.

It’s usually not a chess partner.

“You know Heston?” Vandy asks. “How?”

He shrugs and stabs his fork into his ravioli. “I know of him. My dad’s complained about the Devils since time immemorial.” Chewing, he looks at me and asks, “What, did you date him or something?”

“Hell no!” I erupt, wondering where he even got that idea.

Just then, a scrawny little Freshman—can’t be a day above fourteen—trips over