I take out my phone, skimming through my social media accounts. When I get bored, I scan the space in front of me to make sure I’m alone. All it takes is a few buttons to open the text I received last night. The hard body in the picture is faceless, but I don’t need one to know exactly who it is.
On his right hip, the tattoo peeking out above the white towel is all I need to see to confirm it’s Marek. I’ve spotted his ink several times as he’s walked off the football field after a game, pads and jersey hanging from his hand, and sweat dripping down his chest like it can’t help but touch every inch of him.
“Caught you, Palmer.”
I jump from the intrusion and tuck my phone under my thigh to hide the evidence.
Byron sits on the opposite end of the couch, looking like every high schooler’s wet dream. That is if you dream about being dicked down by your teacher. Where the hell did he come from, anyway? Had I been so stuck in my own thoughts of Marek’s body that he’d slipped right past me? I need to be more self-aware.
He crosses a jean-clad leg over the other at his knee, pulling his pants snug on his thighs. With a tight grip on his shin, he watches me. But does he need to watch me like a lion does a wounded zebra? I shift, uncomfortable being locked under his scrutiny. Never in my life have I ever felt so unsafe as I do now.
“No need to be shy.” Byron winks at me, then breaks his stare.
At the entrance of my secluded spot stand Marek, Breaker, and Dixon, looking like the gods they are. Untouchable and invincible.
“Aren’t you a teacher? Shouldn’t you be trying to avoid places like this?” I grab my phone and stand.
Breaker hops over the table between us, invading every inch of the space in front of me. The back of my knees is pinned to the couch, and the heat from his chest filters through my blouse. His closeness entrances me so much, I miss his hand skimming down my arm and wrapping around my phone. He yanks it from my grasp and tosses it over his shoulder to Marek.
Don’t bolt for it. It will make you more obvious.
“Aren’t you going to come get it?” Marek dangles it in the air between us.
“No,” I say confidently. The only way to survive these four is to feign indifference, and they’ll lose interest. It’s no fun to hunt if the animal walks its chest into the barrel of the gun.
“Let’s see what she’s looking at, boys.” Marek clicks the screen, smirking when he finds a passcode in place.
Ha! Now, who’s smart?
“Six. One. Nine. Four,” Dixon calls out.
“That’s not my passcode,” I say triumphantly.
The only problem is, Dixon’s smile is much wider, like he knows something I don’t.
Marek taps my screen and bites his bottom lip, pulling it tight inside his mouth, then letting the plump skin pop out. Wearing a wild smile, he holds up the phone for me to see his picture.
“It is now.” Dixon sits next to his brother, extending his arms along the back of the couch. Breaker joins him, leaving Marek and me in a standoff.
“What is this? A shake down? Corner a defenseless girl in the shadows?” I swallow, knowing what these four are capable of.
The rumors are just that to everyone else who walks through the shiny gates of our academy. Underclassmen know who to avoid, and upperclassmen know whose dick to suck if they want to survive their education under the gray and black flags of our school.
I was born with a get out of jail free card. My sister. She was this protective shield around me, stopping any threat that could come my way. No one fucked with her, and these four boys are the reason.
Their friendship wasn’t always easy. Freshman year, they nearly broke her, and with the flip of the same coin, they won her devotion and understanding.
“I don’t owe you shit!” I spit.
“Let’s get something clear.” Marek steps into me. One hand rests on my hip, and his fingers dig into the small patch of exposed skin between my blouse and jeans. “You are not defenseless. If you have one-third of your sister’s DNA, you’re solid.” He bends down to drive his point home. “You’re right, though. You don’t owe us anything, but that doesn’t mean