Page 82 of Wicked Ends
Bill snorted. “Stop trying to remind everyone that you have a six-pack.”
Wade smirked and clasped his hands behind his head. “Actually, it’s more of an eight-pack these days.”
Bill tossed a fry, and it hit Wade in the face.
As they messed around, just like who couldn’t stop themselves from wiggling a sore tooth, my gaze returned to the Ice Gods’ table.
The girl was still sitting there, eating her lunch now and speaking to a new girl, someone with white-blonde hair. Asher Martino was playing with her long fall of tumbling curls.
Marcus was nowhere in sight.
He’d left the table. He’d let that girl sit, but then he’d gotten up and left.
Something horribly like relief hit me. Okay, I had a problem, it was official.
I took a bite of salad, my appetite returning as Sally peered up over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Bailey, can we help you with something?”
I nearly choked on my mouthful of lettuce. I checked over my shoulder. Marcus loomed behind me. I coughed, and Bill passed me my cup of water. I dragged some down, hacking loudly.
Great. Smooth.
“Just wanted to give my favorite teacher a little something,” Marcus said, his voice full of his usual dark amusement. “Since she’s new and all.”
“I didn’t know you were on the welcoming committee, Mr. Bailey,” Wade said, staring Marcus up and down and sitting up straighter.
I could picture him sucking in his so-called eight-pack when faced with the sight of Marcus, star goalie, in a tight T-shirt.
“Now you do, Professor,” Marcus said, a sardonic lilt to his voice. Then his hand appeared in front of me, and he placed the red apple down on my tray.
“Welcome to HHU, Professor Moore. I’m looking forward to playing with you for the rest of the semester…”
Shock worked through me at his audacity; why, I had no idea. I already knew the guy had no boundaries, but still. My poker face was shit.
Marcus left that ambiguous statement hanging for a long, loaded moment.
“Playing with her?” Wade repeated dubiously, after a shocked pause.
A few beats passed where Marcus failed to elaborate, and I was sure everyone’s imaginations were running wild.
“I play guitar,” Marcus finally explained, and there were nods around the table.
Relief had me sagging back in my chair.
“Well, thanks,” I said and glanced up at him.
He was smirking down at me, completely aware of the mini heart attack he’d just given me.
“Are you guys prepared for the game tomorrow? I heard the Sinclair twins are quite formidable,” Bill said. The change of subject was very welcome.
Marcus nodded. “We’re ready, and we’re not taking any chances. They’re a good team, but we’re better.”
“Ah, the confidence of youth,” Wade mused, a hint of condescension in his tone. “I remember it well.”
Marcus cocked his head at him. “Really? It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Professor?”
Sally snorted loudly around the mouthful of soda she’d just taken. Wade patted her back unnecessarily hard and glowered at Marcus.
