Page 25 of Séance

I’m both in awe and jealous that they were able to make this all on their own. If pressed, I’m not sure I could even turn on an oven or run a microwave. Any time I was caught in the kitchen, I was punished. I stopped trying when the cook slammed my hand in the fridge door for trying to steal some food, the asshole nearly breaking my fingers.

At ten, I was already old enough to know what it felt like to have my bones broken. Cook only bruised my hand, but I learned my lesson. In my house, learning fast was a survival mechanism. You didn’t get a chance to make a second mistake.

I’m at the head of the table, seated directly across from Hicks. Gunner has claimed the seat to my right, while Jameson smiles brightly at me from my left. Jaceson sits next to his brother, while Ellis is between Hicks and Gunner.

Jameson picks up a bowl of…mangled lettuce?

“I made the salad,” he states proudly, not the least bit ashamed of the half-ass job. “Try some.”

I’m an idiot, because I can’t resist his sweet, earnest expression. I grab the tongs and put a little on my plate. Before I even set the tongs back down, he snatches it from my fingers and puts another pile on my plate, studies it carefully, then nods in satisfaction.

My eyes widen at the massive pile of greens, but I don’t have the heart to say anything.

“Here,” Gunner says, pointing toward the meat platter. “Do you want chicken, steak, or pork chops?”

I look at his plate, hoping for answers, but it’s still empty. He’s serving me first. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I glance at the pieces on the platter, conscious of the rest of the guys waiting.

I panic, locate the smallest piece, then blurt out, “Chicken, please.”

Instead of grabbing a wing, he finds the biggest piece and sets it on my plate. I can only blink at the huge piece as it takes up nearly half the surface. That’s more food than I usually eat in a week. My eyes widen with panic at the thought of it going to waste, but I quickly blink to cover my reaction and smile up at him. “Thank you.”

My voice is a little thin, but he smiles and grabs a thick steak and a piece of chicken before passing over the meat fork. My eyes lock on the mass of food on his plate, then I take in his size.

I guess he wasn’t lying about teenage boys.

I watch in awe as the guys pile their plates full. Each time a new dish comes my way, Gunner or Jameson takes it upon themselves to add more items to my plate until food is practically spilling over the edges.

I’m both flustered by the attention and charmed. It’s almost like they’ve never had a girl over before, but even I know they are too handsome for them not to have dated.

I’m used to being ignored, so their attention is almost too much.

Although it’s sweet, it also makes me nervous.

I learned at a young age that attention isn’t always good. I don’t sense anything malicious from them, though, so I pick up my fork, conscious of all their eyes on me. I’m just about to stab the first thing on my plate when I catch sight of Jameson’s curious gaze.

For some reason, it seems important that he be chosen first.

I stab the salad that’s drenched in too much dressing and take a bite. Flavors explode in my mouth. I’m not used to anything more than a tiny splash of vinaigrette. Though heavy, the dressing is good, and I smile at him. “Yum.”

He smiles proudly, his chest puffing up, then he digs into his own food. When I look up, I catch Hicks watching me. I brace for a biting remark for not cutting my salad like a lady—rules my father beat into me at a young age—but he only gives me a curious half smirk.

Silence fills the table as everyone begins eating. After a while, Ellis turns toward Hicks. “Did you get the keys to the college rental?”

Hicks nods, taking a drink of his beer. “They arrived earlier today. I contacted the cleaning services. The house should be ready in time for the beginning of school.”

With the attention off me, I focus on what I should eat next. When I look at my chicken with a frown, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to eat it, Gunner gently nudges me. He picks up his chicken and tears off a large piece with very straight, very white teeth.

Something about the way he eats—so visceral and with obvious enjoyment—has dirty thoughts flickering through my mind. It’s the sauce. It’s smeared at the corner of his lips, and my mouth waters for another taste.

To keep from leaning over and licking it from his face like a freak, I gingerly pick up my piece of chicken and take a huge bite. Heat and spice fill my mouth, and I groan, not realizing how hungry I was until now.

I moan in pleasure as I chew, so used to eating bland food that it feels like I’ve gone to heaven. I didn’t realize that food could taste so good! Thinking back, I realize I forgot to eat today with the furniture being delivered, Nan leaving, and fixing my room.

I’m on my third bite, oblivious to my surroundings, when the silence reaches me, and I realize the others are watching me eat. Heat spreads up my neck and blooms in my cheeks. I hastily lower my chicken to the plate, grab my napkin, and dab my face.

I must look like a child eating their first meal, but I can’t say I’m sorry.

The food is fucking amazing!

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