Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,72

do to them what they're doing to you." She leans forward and I can see the guys out of the corner of my eye, practically salivating as she almost bursts out of her tube top.

I stare blandly into her face. "And what's that?" I deadpan.

"Flip the script," she says. "Follow them."

I scoff, but it's not a bad idea. I'm still considering it when jock one and jock two finally decide to make their move.

"Hey, Corina." Jock number one moves in first, flashing a million watt smile as he hooks an arm over the back of Corina's chair.

She looks up. "Oh, hey, Chad," she says, fluttering her eyelashes.

I struggle to contain my eyeroll. Of course his name is Chad. Classic douche name for a classic douche looking guy.

“Been a while since we’ve seen you,” Jock number two says, coming up on her other side.

She laughs delicately, and I watch as she turns towards one, her chest thrusting out as number two practically salivates into her cleavage. Some guys can be accused of being players, but if ever there were a girl player—she’d be it. “I’ve just been so busy with school lately,” she says with a pout. “My professors are so mean this semester. None of them are willing to give me extensions on my papers.”

“Awww, that sucks,” Chad says, but he looks like he couldn’t care less what she’s saying and is more interested in other things her mouth could do.

Corina flicks a look my way and grins. “Have you guys met my friend, Avalon?”

Chad and Jock number two stiffen at the sound of my name and when Corina waves her hand my way, I watch their heads turn as if pivoting on spikes. “Uh, no, can’t say we have,” Chad says.

“Oh, well, let me introduce you. Avalon, this is Chad and Brock. They play on Eastpoint’s basketball team.”

I scowl at her.

“Hey,” Jock number two—Brock—is the only one who manages to raise a hand and acknowledge my existence.

Chad, on the other hand, completely ignores me as he focuses on Corina. “We’re going out to the warehouse district tonight,” he tells her. “You thinking about going too?”

“The warehouse district?” She frowns and shakes her head. “No. I’ve got a test tomorrow and Professor Habersham is an ass. He’s not even grading on a curve.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” He lets his suggestive statement trail away as he slips his arm back from her shoulders and straightens up.

Curiosity forces me to confront him. “What’s going on in the warehouse district?” I ask.

He stiffens. “Er … uh … nothing really.”

Irritation forms. “Oh?” I slowly grab my tray and stand, pausing next to him as I round the table. “Then why would Corina be interested in going?”

“It’s … I was just…”

Corina saves his ass by laughing. “Don’t be such a prude,” she says, reaching out and lightly slapping his arm. Personally, I’d like to do something a lot harder than slapping him for the boldfaced lie, but I’m being good. After all, I have a deal to uphold.

Chad glances at her before looking back to me. He rubs the back of his head, skimming his fingers across the near shaven underside as the longer part of his hair on top flops forward over one eye. "It's just where the guys, uh, host shit," he says lamely.

Corina leans forward. "I can't go, but you totally should," she says. "It's super fun."

"What kind of—"

"I'll see you later, Corina," Chad says, cutting me off as he slides away, tapping his buddy on the shoulder. "I gotta head out, but hit me up if you get some free time."

"Bye!" his friend says, hurrying after him.

I grit my teeth and glare after him. Pansy, I think. Corina merely chuckles. "You can't blame them," she says, grabbing up her tray as well and following me as we head to the conveyor belt. "You're kinda infamous now."

I lean back and crack my neck. "Lucky me." The sarcasm is heavy in my voice which only makes her laugh again as we grab our shit and head out.

"The Sick Boys pretty much hated you, then claimed you, and now they ignore you—"

My eyes slice her way, but I don't turn my head. "They're definitely not ignoring me," I comment. If that were the case then they wouldn't constantly be up my ass. In class, at least, I can pretend they don't exist. They become just another couple of faces in a sea of students. Everywhere else, though, it's hard to disregard their